A pair of ancient beings rest on either side of a mosaic tiled map from each other. One a beacon of brilliant light and sanctified flame, the other a lanky figure shrouded darkness. Between them, game pieces move and counter-move apparently on their own accord on the mosaic.
The Shrouded figure breaks the silence, “These abnormalities in Yvren began after you decided to end the winter early you know.” The other being remains silent, continuing to closely observe the movement of the pieces.
The shadowy being continues undeterred, “It all began when stars fell from the, preceding a messenger bringing news of war. Then, despite the bad omens, the once adventurer now King Ishmael marched north for campaign. And now in his absence, Yvren may slip into chaos.”
The being of light shifts towards its companion who continues to speak, “I’m sure your little birds have kept you informed: The castellan scrambling to find mercenaries to protect the kingdom, the court magician assassinated a door away from the royal family, an entire valley falling silent, gnolls savaging the Kingdom’s hinterlands, the queen and her son hidden away in a castle under the protection of a strange sorceress, the craven goddess creeping from her hole, and now I hear of the Great Slayer roaming the Kingdom’s frontiers.”
The being of fire finally spoke with a careful yet powerful voice “And you expect me to believe you have had nothing to do with any of it.”
The shadow shifts revealing for the briefest moments a sparking white eye, “I cannot lie to you, my old friend. I, of course, have eyes watching everything that may draw my interest. And these Stormmen have just so happened to hold my attention.”
“That does not answer my question.” The Fiery being intones as a set of the game pieces suddenly all move in one direction.
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
A sound like water poured on flames fills the chamber, “I often question why I cursed myself with an eternity tied to you.” The being sighs as a series of new pieces move onto the table constructing & arranging themselves in the area that many pieces had previously moved from.
“Why because you value my insight Old Friend.” The Shade states matter-of-factly, as the two fall back into silence watching the map continue to evolve. After a few moments, the figure adds more somberly, “And it wasn’t as if we had any other choices at the time.”
The pair continue to watch the pieces move across the mosaic, some finding a position to rest “So what insight do you have old friend?
“I believe some intention must exist behind these seemingly random events. Too much has occurred that specifically weaken this King Ishmael. An elven warband leaves the Fey Marches for the first time in a hundred years. Then as soon as he leaves several threats congregates about his home, splitting the attention of those left to rule. Too much has itself against these mortals, and given this old Adventurer's enemies, the culmination of these plans may rend the fabric of the Plane.”
“We will not allow a repeat of what happened 23 years ago,” The voice of the Fiery being booms as it’s form flares into a nova.
The Shade paused for a moment, “Of course,” it began placatingly, “But, given your own laws we must expect the mortals to handle this problem on their own.”
The flaming beacon collapsed into itself slightly, “Of course, it is the only way to keep order among our kin.”
“As you say, but-“
“Wait. What is this?” The fiery being cuts off its companion. As he does so a tile of the mosaic raises, raising a small collection of pieces that had crowded around each other with it. Each piece vibrating with untapped energy. “That is new.”
The dark figure pauses to consider the pieces. For a moment, its shroud fills with thousands of thousands of sparkling points of light. Winking in and out of existence and living moving constellations across his form. The shifting constellations fade and the Shade speaks, “They are adventurers. Not very experienced. Ignorant of the true reality of their lives & stumbling towards a destiny that they are blind to.
The Fiery being huffs, “So mortals then?”
“Perhaps, but they hold the potential for greatness. And their fate remains unaccounted for. That alone would make them worth watching, however, given the timing, this group may just find themselves standing in the way of the coming crisis” the being explained.
“You believe these adventurers may the salvation we are looking for?” The Being of light questioning.
“Given time, I believe they may just stumble into being the heroes of their time.” The shadow paused at another game piece that shook with a similar energy then began to crumble and its place is taken by another, “or they may all die horribly I suppose.”
“Excuse me?”
“What? Even beings such as us, cannot predict the future with perfect accuracy, and their profession by its nature tends towards an early grave.” The shrouded figure stated in a more lackadaisical tone.
“Not comforting, old friend.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t. They are still worth watching all the same.”
In the town, the heroes stand, exhausted but proud, carrying 46 spider-heads in a sack
Then Chaos throws up
Because gross, spiders
You find yourself in The Lame Hammer drinking and making merry after a job well done. Upon arriving back in Vahl you made your way to your employer’s manor to inform her that the job was finished. Before you got a chance to get into the manor, however, a group of miners that had heard of the deed intercepted you and all but carried you to the nearest tavern. Treating you to a round of fine drinks and a dinner that, at least in their minds, would be fit for a king. Hearing all the commotion a few blocks from her house your employers & the mine’s owner a, dwarven woman named Yvonne, chooses to show her appreciation by paying for drinks all night in addition to the pay for clearing her property. Currently, some of the workers are trying and failing to outdrink their boss.
By chance, a member of Zook’s Guild happened to be at The Hammer meeting with a sister who was apparently a traveling bard. Upon seeing the revelries, and seeing a chance to make some coin you think, hopped atop a chair with her fiddle and began filling the room with an arcanely infused music. Antoine, a nervous looking Half-elf who had returned with you from the mining village after the Mine was clear, keeps trying to interject into Yvonne’s drinking game. Anyone who cares to pay attention realizes he’s trying to tell her about some of the collateral damage caused by the fire used to clear the webs, but the drinking party keeps blowing him off with either laughter or shoving a tankard of ale at him.
A pair of the cities Brighwardens had stopped by an hour or so ago and stayed to play cards with some of the other miners. The Local patrons who you saw were hesitant at first begin to accept their new rowdy barmates and begin to join in on the fun. The room is filled with laughter and everyone has a smile on their face from the infectious mood.
The Atmosphere is warm and rowdy and you are surrounded by buildings full of people who all want to be your friends. Where do we see you in this scene?
OOC: You can go ahead and introduce your character, with what they look like and what they’re doing in this lively atmosphere. I’d also like every to roll me a Perception Check.
Lia Galanodel is shrunk in the corner, a full mug of beer in front of her. She twists her bronze hair around a finger nervously, surveying the rowdy crowd with suspicious brown eyes. She slumps lower, trying to conceal her tall body from the rest of the pub. A longbow rests next to Lia on the seat, along with a quiver, two short swords, and a backpack with a pot and a shovel strapped to it. Lia fingers a small handmade goat-man statuette, and mutters under her breath in Elvish about loud crowds and sweet Shu'velle, make it stop.
Zook Scheppen, a gnome, standing at three and a half feet tall, with black hair and a closely trimmed beard is chatting with the Guild member. With a mug of ale in one hand and a small vile of liquid in the other, he was currently trying to sell some of the spider venom he had collected to the Guild. His green eyes gleamed as he negotiated with the Guild member.
"If there was one outbreak of this specific breed of Giant Spiders, then having enough venom on hand to made an antidote would be a great boon for the Guild, would it not?" Zook said. "Zook has plenty on hand right now. Forty-six there were! And Zook got plenty of venom from them. Zook'll sell you all the venom in this here Bag of Holding. And in exchange, Zook gets a cut of the profits you make from selling the antidotes. What say you?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Infurin sits in the corner of the room in a booth by himself, smiling slightly, "idiots, all of them, but..." for a moment Infurin seems to lose himself in a mental reflection. Returning to reality, he finishes the statement, "but good ones." He sips the wine in his mug. He strokes his brown beard a moment before pulling his mid-length hair behind his ears. He had no intention of getting drunk, and he shifted a little at the ruckus of those already well down that path. His leather armor creaked a slight bit, spider blood had seeped and dried into the leather.
Infurin looked at his cloth wrapped forearms and hands, the dried black ichor of spiders having soaked the cloth in a few places. A staff lays next to him as he surveys the crowd. [Perception Check: 18 ]. Infurin sits slightly at an unease, before finishing the wine. He just currently sits, contemplating his fate. "Well, I'm alive, aren't I?" He mutters to himself darkly, and then smiles as he sees Zook and Lia, allies in his, or was it their, attempted theft. "Gonna be a long night." Infurin mutters, now thinking about getting into the Bastion again, more quietly this time, and mindful of the magic trap Lia had set off with he shovel.
None can say what Chaos does, but all know Chaos enjoys herself.
I am Chaos!
Chaos is a highly attractive female tiefling with wildly curling horns; short, sharp claws and fangs; wildly glowing, rapidly spinning eyes that seem to be all colors and none at the same time; a long tail that seems to have a life of its own; a body temperature several degrees above the human norm; skin that changes color to match her mood; hair that does likewise and blows in a nonexistent wind; and odd, multicolored lights running across her body.
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"Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both" -- allegedly Benjamin Franklin
As the party is shuffled in by the ecstatic crowd, Valen lumbers in among them with a shared, though muted, cheer. Among the commonfolk, the priest would've seemed a small avatar. He easily stood over most (6'4") and had a build meant for heavy labor and long days. Though his shoulders and face bore stress years beyond his age, a certain radiance still seemed to shine.
In celebration of their victory, Valen drops his equipment by the fire amd sets to work. First, a blessing on the building, then a general announcement of thanks and welcome, then finally a blessing over the hearth in Bellora's name. What would typically be a rather pious and somber few minutes was livened up bybthe party's good tidings.
Once the blessings were done and food (including liquid food) was served, Valen took a seat by the fire and began scratching a letter back home. The Bastion required weekly correspondence from those afield and the news would certainly be good this time. [Keystone Mairone, the week has been a testament to the might of the Fiery Throne and it's rulers. Hael's Will struck deep into spider-infested mines of Vahl and it's people rejoice. Further reassurance will be needed to set hearts at ease that this is a lasting peace. I request a Squad to be dispatched to the mines in order to quell any spider resurgence and assist the miners in their daily needs....]
Once the letter is done, Valen joins the others in (modest) celebration.
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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
Corus is taking in the sights of the celebration. He is still fully clad in his chain mail and his dark green hair remains pulled up tightly. The large, rowdy celebration reminds him of his old crew, and the haunting memories of their slaughter comes with it. "I shouldn't even be here" he thinks to himself, "I should be at the bottom of the sea with my crew, there must be more for me than slaying simple pests." Corus grabs a strong drink and goes and sits outside the tavern, he just can't handle the happiness anymore, and he finds the cold wind much more comforting than the hearth fires.. "Kohl, I know your out there, guide my path so that I can rid myself of these feelings." Corus downs his drink and gets lost in thought.
The atmosphere in the tavern remains lively as the evening creeps into night. The party only grows as other laborers shuffle into the tavern as their day of work comes to an end. Further crowding the tavern but tempering the mood with the well-earned lethargy of the peasant class.
Zook & his fellow guildsmen, Rainer, spend the evening drinking and drawing up the contract for the sale of Zook’s Spider venom. After a few hours of affable back and forth Zook manages to convince his guildmate that given the difficulty of acquiring the venom and the sheer quantity of it Zook really should have a larger than normal share of the guild’s earnings. You are surprised when Rainer drunkenly agrees and signs 25% of the sale of the anti-venom over to you. By the way, he slumps over onto the sack of Giant Spider venom, you realize that negotiations might have been helped along by him being much further into the drink than you. You choose to hope it will work out and turn to the steak & seafood dinner as it comes out.
The Tavernkeeper makes an effort to navigate the drunken revelry to bring Lia, Infurin, and Corus a refill on their drinks and bring them a warm plate for dinner. Giving an almost apologetic smile as he went back to his patrons.
Corus is the first to see the pair of figures approaching the tavern. The first a giant of a man wearing the Silver & Red painted armor of the city’s Brightwardens. The other a comparatively shorter man, though it’s hard to tell his actual size walking next to the giant man, wearing a blue cloak over a glinting leather armor.
As they get closer, and the taller figure comes into better focus, Corus makes out on his unhelmeted head covered in a fine brown fur with long pointed ears. the Corus realizes quickly that this Brightwarden is, in fact, a Bugbear.
The party is interrupted by a cold wind as a Bugbear wearing the armor of a Brightwarden stoops into the tavern. Anyone who has spent time in Vahl would recognize the Bugbear as now of the Cities Veteran Brightwardens, you’re not sure what his actual name is but you know most of the Street toughs in Vahl refer to him as Prince.
Prince scans the room and rests his eyes on Valen. Raising his arm and pointing at the Cleric he grunts out, “That’s the one you’re looking for.” As he shifts his body in the door frame he makes space for his companion to scoot into the warm building. The companion lowers his hood to reveal a young human male with energetic eyes and a confident smirk. Those eyes lock onto Valen and his polished armor as he moves away from his doorway.
As his companion moves away Prince’s eyes continue to move around the room locking onto the pair of Brightwardens trying in vain to hide behind their cards. The Bugbears face gets uglier somehow as he storms over to the table, “So this is where you lot have been!” His previous charge apparently forgotten as he begins all-but tossing his underlings out of the tavern.
The young man approaches Valen’s table, shrugging his cloak to his back revealing a Blue Eagle emblazoned on the chest of his armor. The man stops a respectful distance away and beams a bright smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Valen. My name is Gerald Butler, and I am representing the interests of my master Lord Harald Griffith. May I trouble you for a conversation?” Much of the background merriment in the tavern quiets as the name of the Queen’s lordly older brother. Many, both subtly or not-so subtly, trying to listen to the conversation now.
OOC: You all can post your character's reaction, but I will continue the post after Valen’s response.
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Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.
PbP character Son Kol - Kel Dor Fringer (Shadows of the Republic)
Valen had no extensive experience or care with the dealings of nobles and kings. He gave a dismissive nod to those at his table and offered the chair across from him, "Be my guest. What can this Blessed do for you and yours?" Though young, Valen's eyes held this newcomer in careful regard as friend and enemy in the same form.
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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
Gerald remained standing putting an apologetic hand up, “Thank you, but I must be leaving soon. So I will be brief, my Lord Griffith has heard of your good work for the people of Vahl. And is curious if you would be interested in doing more.” He reached into his cloak and produced a scroll sealed with blue wax.
“There is a job that he believes that you and your companions are particularly suited for. If you are interested, then you may use this as passage into Castle Vahlstrahd in the morning.” He states holding the scroll out to Valen. Noticeably he is speaking loud enough for the other party members in the room to hear him.
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Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.
PbP character Son Kol - Kel Dor Fringer (Shadows of the Republic)
Valen stands with a level gaze, "Please tell Lord Griffith that Bellora's Blessed will have his answer in the morning. First, I must convene with my comrades." After Gerald leaves, Valen find a few of his party in the crowd and nods toward the door. Gathering his pack, weapons, and shield, the priest makes his way out thanking patrons and the barkeeper alike.
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
Corus pours the fresh drink out onto the ground in memory of his fallen crew. He stands up and puts his hand on his sword as the royal messenger boy and his entourage leave the tavern. Corus gives them a cold look as they pass, trying to decide if they are friend or foe. For the time being, he lets the thought go as they disappear in the darkness. Corus turns and sees Valen gathering his things, and waits by the door, not wanting to leave the cold embrace of the night wind.
"Sleep well, Rainer. Looks like Zook's got another job in the works." the gnome chuckled as he went to follow the Aasimar.
Hee, hee! 25%! Best deal I ever made with the guild! Zook thought gleefully. Them taking 90% off the top every time is really just too much.
"So, a request coming from Lord Griffith, eh?" he muttered to himself and tugging at his beard. "That could be good business. Having contacts high up the food chain typically is... providing..."
Lia shoulders her supplies and walks quickly to Valen and the rest. "I do not like him," Lia says quietly, "He is royalty, and royalty always have reasons for a good deed. Kingdoms have rivalries, and we cannot find ourselves tangled in the web of politics."
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You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.
After discussing amongst yourselves the party agreed to go to the Castle in the morning. The then went off to whatever lodging they had chosen for the evening. Agreeing to meet in the courtyard of The Forge just before dawn.
OOC: Anyone who wants to stay in an Inn in the City pays 5 sp.
The next morning the party meets after going through your normal morning routines (praying, studying spells, whatever the hell Rangers do in the morning) and make your way to the Castle. After using the royal letter to get through several lightly guarded checkpoints in the upper district of the city the party finally is allowed into the Castles main keep.
Castle Vahlstrahd sits stoutly atop of the high hill around which the city grew. The line between the royal district and the castle itself are fuzzy. The outer walls, originally built to be a confusing maze of dead ends and traps, became filled with the manors and warehouses of the urban rich seeking the protection of high walls. Eventually, the high walls surrounding the Royal district were raised. Separating the rich from the poor with a high wall of silver & stone Zook remembers that while King Ishmael was still in the city the gates of the Royal district were open and people could move about freely, but since Lord Harald has taken regency of the kingdom the gates have been tightly shut and the movement of people between districts was tightly controlled.
A pair of guards escorts the party from the main gates further into the castle. One is an older man with a noticeable limp, while the other looks far too young to be wearing his armor. They lead the party into a section of the castle decorated with blue and red finery. Corus, you notice that instead of leading you to what you recognize as the Royal Court, they lead you off into a separate wing. You all notice how empty the castle is, you pass many empty rooms and see that the servants have only been doing a half hearted job at maintaining it in the Royal Families absence.
The emptiness is compounded when the party hears voices echoing from further down the hallway. A few more minutes’ travel reveals the source, a large oaken door flanked by two more standing at attention guards. Each of the guards also wear lacquered leather armor with the Blue Eagle emblazoned on the chest & shoulders, they both wear the face covering helmets to indicate they are NPC guards in an RPG. Several female and a single older male voice filter out of into the hallway.
“Ere ya are,” The older guard says gesturing to the doorway. He looks to the other guards, “Visitors for the Castellan,” He says handing one of them the scroll.
One of the helmeted guards briefly reads the scroll then closes with a sound of affirmation. He nods to the party, “One moment.” He then turns and enters the room.
OOC: You can RP about anything your character would like to do either last night or during the action of this post.
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Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.
PbP character Son Kol - Kel Dor Fringer (Shadows of the Republic)
"Hah..." Zook sighed. "There used to be more people here... Used to be, anyone could travel in and out of the districts as they saw fit. Now Zook needs paperwork to move about the city. Makes business hard. Less cost effective."
He seemed to absently draw in the dust layers as they were led through the castle.
"The staff's lost their luster and the castle shows it." he continued a little sadly, looking at the dust on his fingers. He continued muttering to himself as they waited outside the doors. "The malaise is quite palpable. Wonder if there's a formula Zook could make to pick up the spirit."
Being accustomed to royal courts, Corus has bene quite let down so far. The atmosphere is drab and depressing, and the amount of security is quite annoying considering the state of the castle. The whole scene make Corus pity the royals and their servants. Whatever quest Lord Griffith has to offer, Corus hopes it will help lift the spirits of everyone here.
Finding a suitable inn, Infurin pays his fare for the night. He looks around before heading up stairs. He looks at the plain accommodations and smiles a little, "Reminds me of home," taking the time to take off the leather armor and remove the spider ichor out of his armor. Rewrapping his hand, Infurin looks over his scroll of forbidden knowledge, looking at the Infernal runes, no doubt affecting his flesh. He then put his scroll back, before falling asleep.
In the morning, Infurin wakes with a yawn, and then sets upon what he calls "the morning hell", thanking his patron for the magic given to him, before looking side to side a bit, and then sending a quick prayer to Kohl and Shu'velle, and what other holy names were mentioned last night in the tavern. Pulling on his armor, wrapping his arms on, and then adjusting the straps of the leather. He throws on his hood, adjusts his cloak, and slings his staff over his back, and heads to the Forge. Arriving on time Infurin lets himself be led into the castle by the others, just looking around at the malaise of the place. "Typical." He mutters as he looks at the servants of the castle. His tattooed arm was a little sore, and he was a little irritated with the fact that he had slept unwell last night. So he yawned. Regarding the rest of the party, he decided to be silent unless called upon.
A pair of ancient beings rest on either side of a mosaic tiled map from each other. One a beacon of brilliant light and sanctified flame, the other a lanky figure shrouded darkness. Between them, game pieces move and counter-move apparently on their own accord on the mosaic.
The Shrouded figure breaks the silence, “These abnormalities in Yvren began after you decided to end the winter early you know.” The other being remains silent, continuing to closely observe the movement of the pieces.
The shadowy being continues undeterred, “It all began when stars fell from the, preceding a messenger bringing news of war. Then, despite the bad omens, the once adventurer now King Ishmael marched north for campaign. And now in his absence, Yvren may slip into chaos.”
The being of light shifts towards its companion who continues to speak, “I’m sure your little birds have kept you informed: The castellan scrambling to find mercenaries to protect the kingdom, the court magician assassinated a door away from the royal family, an entire valley falling silent, gnolls savaging the Kingdom’s hinterlands, the queen and her son hidden away in a castle under the protection of a strange sorceress, the craven goddess creeping from her hole, and now I hear of the Great Slayer roaming the Kingdom’s frontiers.”
The being of fire finally spoke with a careful yet powerful voice “And you expect me to believe you have had nothing to do with any of it.”
The shadow shifts revealing for the briefest moments a sparking white eye, “I cannot lie to you, my old friend. I, of course, have eyes watching everything that may draw my interest. And these Stormmen have just so happened to hold my attention.”
“That does not answer my question.” The Fiery being intones as a set of the game pieces suddenly all move in one direction.
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
A sound like water poured on flames fills the chamber, “I often question why I cursed myself with an eternity tied to you.” The being sighs as a series of new pieces move onto the table constructing & arranging themselves in the area that many pieces had previously moved from.
“Why because you value my insight Old Friend.” The Shade states matter-of-factly, as the two fall back into silence watching the map continue to evolve. After a few moments, the figure adds more somberly, “And it wasn’t as if we had any other choices at the time.”
The pair continue to watch the pieces move across the mosaic, some finding a position to rest “So what insight do you have old friend?
“I believe some intention must exist behind these seemingly random events. Too much has occurred that specifically weaken this King Ishmael. An elven warband leaves the Fey Marches for the first time in a hundred years. Then as soon as he leaves several threats congregates about his home, splitting the attention of those left to rule. Too much has itself against these mortals, and given this old Adventurer's enemies, the culmination of these plans may rend the fabric of the Plane.”
“We will not allow a repeat of what happened 23 years ago,” The voice of the Fiery being booms as it’s form flares into a nova.
The Shade paused for a moment, “Of course,” it began placatingly, “But, given your own laws we must expect the mortals to handle this problem on their own.”
The flaming beacon collapsed into itself slightly, “Of course, it is the only way to keep order among our kin.”
“As you say, but-“
“Wait. What is this?” The fiery being cuts off its companion. As he does so a tile of the mosaic raises, raising a small collection of pieces that had crowded around each other with it. Each piece vibrating with untapped energy. “That is new.”
The dark figure pauses to consider the pieces. For a moment, its shroud fills with thousands of thousands of sparkling points of light. Winking in and out of existence and living moving constellations across his form. The shifting constellations fade and the Shade speaks, “They are adventurers. Not very experienced. Ignorant of the true reality of their lives & stumbling towards a destiny that they are blind to.
The Fiery being huffs, “So mortals then?”
“Perhaps, but they hold the potential for greatness. And their fate remains unaccounted for. That alone would make them worth watching, however, given the timing, this group may just find themselves standing in the way of the coming crisis” the being explained.
“You believe these adventurers may the salvation we are looking for?” The Being of light questioning.
“Given time, I believe they may just stumble into being the heroes of their time.” The shadow paused at another game piece that shook with a similar energy then began to crumble and its place is taken by another, “or they may all die horribly I suppose.”
“Excuse me?”
“What? Even beings such as us, cannot predict the future with perfect accuracy, and their profession by its nature tends towards an early grave.” The shrouded figure stated in a more lackadaisical tone.
“Not comforting, old friend.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t. They are still worth watching all the same.”
In the town, the heroes stand, exhausted but proud, carrying 46 spider-heads in a sack
Then Chaos throws up
Because gross, spiders
You find yourself in The Lame Hammer drinking and making merry after a job well done. Upon arriving back in Vahl you made your way to your employer’s manor to inform her that the job was finished. Before you got a chance to get into the manor, however, a group of miners that had heard of the deed intercepted you and all but carried you to the nearest tavern. Treating you to a round of fine drinks and a dinner that, at least in their minds, would be fit for a king. Hearing all the commotion a few blocks from her house your employers & the mine’s owner a, dwarven woman named Yvonne, chooses to show her appreciation by paying for drinks all night in addition to the pay for clearing her property. Currently, some of the workers are trying and failing to outdrink their boss.
By chance, a member of Zook’s Guild happened to be at The Hammer meeting with a sister who was apparently a traveling bard. Upon seeing the revelries, and seeing a chance to make some coin you think, hopped atop a chair with her fiddle and began filling the room with an arcanely infused music. Antoine, a nervous looking Half-elf who had returned with you from the mining village after the Mine was clear, keeps trying to interject into Yvonne’s drinking game. Anyone who cares to pay attention realizes he’s trying to tell her about some of the collateral damage caused by the fire used to clear the webs, but the drinking party keeps blowing him off with either laughter or shoving a tankard of ale at him.
A pair of the cities Brighwardens had stopped by an hour or so ago and stayed to play cards with some of the other miners. The Local patrons who you saw were hesitant at first begin to accept their new rowdy barmates and begin to join in on the fun. The room is filled with laughter and everyone has a smile on their face from the infectious mood.
The Atmosphere is warm and rowdy and you are surrounded by buildings full of people who all want to be your friends. Where do we see you in this scene?
OOC: You can go ahead and introduce your character, with what they look like and what they’re doing in this lively atmosphere. I’d also like every to roll me a Perception Check.
Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.
PbP character Son Kol - Kel Dor Fringer (Shadows of the Republic)
PbP charcater Mabeh Honeydew - Wood Elf Druid (Void Beyond the Stars - Inner Realms)
Lia Galanodel is shrunk in the corner, a full mug of beer in front of her. She twists her bronze hair around a finger nervously, surveying the rowdy crowd with suspicious brown eyes. She slumps lower, trying to conceal her tall body from the rest of the pub. A longbow rests next to Lia on the seat, along with a quiver, two short swords, and a backpack with a pot and a shovel strapped to it. Lia fingers a small handmade goat-man statuette, and mutters under her breath in Elvish about loud crowds and sweet Shu'velle, make it stop.
You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.
-Jack London
Zook Scheppen, a gnome, standing at three and a half feet tall, with black hair and a closely trimmed beard is chatting with the Guild member. With a mug of ale in one hand and a small vile of liquid in the other, he was currently trying to sell some of the spider venom he had collected to the Guild. His green eyes gleamed as he negotiated with the Guild member.
"If there was one outbreak of this specific breed of Giant Spiders, then having enough venom on hand to made an antidote would be a great boon for the Guild, would it not?" Zook said. "Zook has plenty on hand right now. Forty-six there were! And Zook got plenty of venom from them. Zook'll sell you all the venom in this here Bag of Holding. And in exchange, Zook gets a cut of the profits you make from selling the antidotes. What say you?"
Infurin sits in the corner of the room in a booth by himself, smiling slightly, "idiots, all of them, but..." for a moment Infurin seems to lose himself in a mental reflection. Returning to reality, he finishes the statement, "but good ones." He sips the wine in his mug. He strokes his brown beard a moment before pulling his mid-length hair behind his ears. He had no intention of getting drunk, and he shifted a little at the ruckus of those already well down that path. His leather armor creaked a slight bit, spider blood had seeped and dried into the leather.
Infurin looked at his cloth wrapped forearms and hands, the dried black ichor of spiders having soaked the cloth in a few places. A staff lays next to him as he surveys the crowd. [Perception Check: 18 ]. Infurin sits slightly at an unease, before finishing the wine. He just currently sits, contemplating his fate. "Well, I'm alive, aren't I?" He mutters to himself darkly, and then smiles as he sees Zook and Lia, allies in his, or was it their, attempted theft. "Gonna be a long night." Infurin mutters, now thinking about getting into the Bastion again, more quietly this time, and mindful of the magic trap Lia had set off with he shovel.
None can say what Chaos does, but all know Chaos enjoys herself.
I am Chaos!
Chaos is a highly attractive female tiefling with wildly curling horns; short, sharp claws and fangs; wildly glowing, rapidly spinning eyes that seem to be all colors and none at the same time; a long tail that seems to have a life of its own; a body temperature several degrees above the human norm; skin that changes color to match her mood; hair that does likewise and blows in a nonexistent wind; and odd, multicolored lights running across her body.
"Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both" -- allegedly Benjamin Franklin
Tooltips (Help/aid)
As the party is shuffled in by the ecstatic crowd, Valen lumbers in among them with a shared, though muted, cheer. Among the commonfolk, the priest would've seemed a small avatar. He easily stood over most (6'4") and had a build meant for heavy labor and long days. Though his shoulders and face bore stress years beyond his age, a certain radiance still seemed to shine.
In celebration of their victory, Valen drops his equipment by the fire amd sets to work. First, a blessing on the building, then a general announcement of thanks and welcome, then finally a blessing over the hearth in Bellora's name. What would typically be a rather pious and somber few minutes was livened up bybthe party's good tidings.
Once the blessings were done and food (including liquid food) was served, Valen took a seat by the fire and began scratching a letter back home. The Bastion required weekly correspondence from those afield and the news would certainly be good this time. [Keystone Mairone, the week has been a testament to the might of the Fiery Throne and it's rulers. Hael's Will struck deep into spider-infested mines of Vahl and it's people rejoice. Further reassurance will be needed to set hearts at ease that this is a lasting peace. I request a Squad to be dispatched to the mines in order to quell any spider resurgence and assist the miners in their daily needs....]
Once the letter is done, Valen joins the others in (modest) celebration.
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
Corus is taking in the sights of the celebration. He is still fully clad in his chain mail and his dark green hair remains pulled up tightly. The large, rowdy celebration reminds him of his old crew, and the haunting memories of their slaughter comes with it. "I shouldn't even be here" he thinks to himself, "I should be at the bottom of the sea with my crew, there must be more for me than slaying simple pests." Corus grabs a strong drink and goes and sits outside the tavern, he just can't handle the happiness anymore, and he finds the cold wind much more comforting than the hearth fires.. "Kohl, I know your out there, guide my path so that I can rid myself of these feelings." Corus downs his drink and gets lost in thought.
The atmosphere in the tavern remains lively as the evening creeps into night. The party only grows as other laborers shuffle into the tavern as their day of work comes to an end. Further crowding the tavern but tempering the mood with the well-earned lethargy of the peasant class.
Zook & his fellow guildsmen, Rainer, spend the evening drinking and drawing up the contract for the sale of Zook’s Spider venom. After a few hours of affable back and forth Zook manages to convince his guildmate that given the difficulty of acquiring the venom and the sheer quantity of it Zook really should have a larger than normal share of the guild’s earnings. You are surprised when Rainer drunkenly agrees and signs 25% of the sale of the anti-venom over to you. By the way, he slumps over onto the sack of Giant Spider venom, you realize that negotiations might have been helped along by him being much further into the drink than you. You choose to hope it will work out and turn to the steak & seafood dinner as it comes out.
The Tavernkeeper makes an effort to navigate the drunken revelry to bring Lia, Infurin, and Corus a refill on their drinks and bring them a warm plate for dinner. Giving an almost apologetic smile as he went back to his patrons.
Corus is the first to see the pair of figures approaching the tavern. The first a giant of a man wearing the Silver & Red painted armor of the city’s Brightwardens. The other a comparatively shorter man, though it’s hard to tell his actual size walking next to the giant man, wearing a blue cloak over a glinting leather armor.
As they get closer, and the taller figure comes into better focus, Corus makes out on his unhelmeted head covered in a fine brown fur with long pointed ears. the Corus realizes quickly that this Brightwarden is, in fact, a Bugbear.
The party is interrupted by a cold wind as a Bugbear wearing the armor of a Brightwarden stoops into the tavern. Anyone who has spent time in Vahl would recognize the Bugbear as now of the Cities Veteran Brightwardens, you’re not sure what his actual name is but you know most of the Street toughs in Vahl refer to him as Prince.
Prince scans the room and rests his eyes on Valen. Raising his arm and pointing at the Cleric he grunts out, “That’s the one you’re looking for.” As he shifts his body in the door frame he makes space for his companion to scoot into the warm building. The companion lowers his hood to reveal a young human male with energetic eyes and a confident smirk. Those eyes lock onto Valen and his polished armor as he moves away from his doorway.
As his companion moves away Prince’s eyes continue to move around the room locking onto the pair of Brightwardens trying in vain to hide behind their cards. The Bugbears face gets uglier somehow as he storms over to the table, “So this is where you lot have been!” His previous charge apparently forgotten as he begins all-but tossing his underlings out of the tavern.
The young man approaches Valen’s table, shrugging his cloak to his back revealing a Blue Eagle emblazoned on the chest of his armor. The man stops a respectful distance away and beams a bright smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Valen. My name is Gerald Butler, and I am representing the interests of my master Lord Harald Griffith. May I trouble you for a conversation?” Much of the background merriment in the tavern quiets as the name of the Queen’s lordly older brother. Many, both subtly or not-so subtly, trying to listen to the conversation now.
OOC: You all can post your character's reaction, but I will continue the post after Valen’s response.
Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.
PbP character Son Kol - Kel Dor Fringer (Shadows of the Republic)
PbP charcater Mabeh Honeydew - Wood Elf Druid (Void Beyond the Stars - Inner Realms)
Lia grabs her short sword, ready to draw it. She senses trouble is coming.
You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.
-Jack London
Valen had no extensive experience or care with the dealings of nobles and kings. He gave a dismissive nod to those at his table and offered the chair across from him, "Be my guest. What can this Blessed do for you and yours?" Though young, Valen's eyes held this newcomer in careful regard as friend and enemy in the same form.
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
Gerald remained standing putting an apologetic hand up, “Thank you, but I must be leaving soon. So I will be brief, my Lord Griffith has heard of your good work for the people of Vahl. And is curious if you would be interested in doing more.” He reached into his cloak and produced a scroll sealed with blue wax.
“There is a job that he believes that you and your companions are particularly suited for. If you are interested, then you may use this as passage into Castle Vahlstrahd in the morning.” He states holding the scroll out to Valen. Noticeably he is speaking loud enough for the other party members in the room to hear him.
Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.
PbP character Son Kol - Kel Dor Fringer (Shadows of the Republic)
PbP charcater Mabeh Honeydew - Wood Elf Druid (Void Beyond the Stars - Inner Realms)
Valen stands with a level gaze, "Please tell Lord Griffith that Bellora's Blessed will have his answer in the morning. First, I must convene with my comrades." After Gerald leaves, Valen find a few of his party in the crowd and nods toward the door. Gathering his pack, weapons, and shield, the priest makes his way out thanking patrons and the barkeeper alike.
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
Corus pours the fresh drink out onto the ground in memory of his fallen crew. He stands up and puts his hand on his sword as the royal messenger boy and his entourage leave the tavern. Corus gives them a cold look as they pass, trying to decide if they are friend or foe. For the time being, he lets the thought go as they disappear in the darkness. Corus turns and sees Valen gathering his things, and waits by the door, not wanting to leave the cold embrace of the night wind.
"Sleep well, Rainer. Looks like Zook's got another job in the works." the gnome chuckled as he went to follow the Aasimar.
Hee, hee! 25%! Best deal I ever made with the guild! Zook thought gleefully. Them taking 90% off the top every time is really just too much.
"So, a request coming from Lord Griffith, eh?" he muttered to himself and tugging at his beard. "That could be good business. Having contacts high up the food chain typically is... providing..."
Lia shoulders her supplies and walks quickly to Valen and the rest. "I do not like him," Lia says quietly, "He is royalty, and royalty always have reasons for a good deed. Kingdoms have rivalries, and we cannot find ourselves tangled in the web of politics."
You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.
-Jack London
"Yeah, politics is boring, but nobles can usually afford to pay very well."
"Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both" -- allegedly Benjamin Franklin
Tooltips (Help/aid)
After discussing amongst yourselves the party agreed to go to the Castle in the morning. The then went off to whatever lodging they had chosen for the evening. Agreeing to meet in the courtyard of The Forge just before dawn.
OOC: Anyone who wants to stay in an Inn in the City pays 5 sp.
The next morning the party meets after going through your normal morning routines (praying, studying spells, whatever the hell Rangers do in the morning) and make your way to the Castle. After using the royal letter to get through several lightly guarded checkpoints in the upper district of the city the party finally is allowed into the Castles main keep.
Castle Vahlstrahd sits stoutly atop of the high hill around which the city grew. The line between the royal district and the castle itself are fuzzy. The outer walls, originally built to be a confusing maze of dead ends and traps, became filled with the manors and warehouses of the urban rich seeking the protection of high walls. Eventually, the high walls surrounding the Royal district were raised. Separating the rich from the poor with a high wall of silver & stone Zook remembers that while King Ishmael was still in the city the gates of the Royal district were open and people could move about freely, but since Lord Harald has taken regency of the kingdom the gates have been tightly shut and the movement of people between districts was tightly controlled.
A pair of guards escorts the party from the main gates further into the castle. One is an older man with a noticeable limp, while the other looks far too young to be wearing his armor. They lead the party into a section of the castle decorated with blue and red finery. Corus, you notice that instead of leading you to what you recognize as the Royal Court, they lead you off into a separate wing. You all notice how empty the castle is, you pass many empty rooms and see that the servants have only been doing a half hearted job at maintaining it in the Royal Families absence.
The emptiness is compounded when the party hears voices echoing from further down the hallway. A few more minutes’ travel reveals the source, a large oaken door flanked by two more standing at attention guards. Each of the guards also wear lacquered leather armor with the Blue Eagle emblazoned on the chest & shoulders, they both wear the face covering helmets to indicate they are NPC guards in an RPG. Several female and a single older male voice filter out of into the hallway.
“Ere ya are,” The older guard says gesturing to the doorway. He looks to the other guards, “Visitors for the Castellan,” He says handing one of them the scroll.
One of the helmeted guards briefly reads the scroll then closes with a sound of affirmation. He nods to the party, “One moment.” He then turns and enters the room.
OOC: You can RP about anything your character would like to do either last night or during the action of this post.
Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.
PbP character Son Kol - Kel Dor Fringer (Shadows of the Republic)
PbP charcater Mabeh Honeydew - Wood Elf Druid (Void Beyond the Stars - Inner Realms)
"Hah..." Zook sighed. "There used to be more people here... Used to be, anyone could travel in and out of the districts as they saw fit. Now Zook needs paperwork to move about the city. Makes business hard. Less cost effective."
He seemed to absently draw in the dust layers as they were led through the castle.
"The staff's lost their luster and the castle shows it." he continued a little sadly, looking at the dust on his fingers. He continued muttering to himself as they waited outside the doors. "The malaise is quite palpable. Wonder if there's a formula Zook could make to pick up the spirit."
Being accustomed to royal courts, Corus has bene quite let down so far. The atmosphere is drab and depressing, and the amount of security is quite annoying considering the state of the castle. The whole scene make Corus pity the royals and their servants. Whatever quest Lord Griffith has to offer, Corus hopes it will help lift the spirits of everyone here.
Finding a suitable inn, Infurin pays his fare for the night. He looks around before heading up stairs. He looks at the plain accommodations and smiles a little, "Reminds me of home," taking the time to take off the leather armor and remove the spider ichor out of his armor. Rewrapping his hand, Infurin looks over his scroll of forbidden knowledge, looking at the Infernal runes, no doubt affecting his flesh. He then put his scroll back, before falling asleep.
In the morning, Infurin wakes with a yawn, and then sets upon what he calls "the morning hell", thanking his patron for the magic given to him, before looking side to side a bit, and then sending a quick prayer to Kohl and Shu'velle, and what other holy names were mentioned last night in the tavern. Pulling on his armor, wrapping his arms on, and then adjusting the straps of the leather. He throws on his hood, adjusts his cloak, and slings his staff over his back, and heads to the Forge. Arriving on time Infurin lets himself be led into the castle by the others, just looking around at the malaise of the place. "Typical." He mutters as he looks at the servants of the castle. His tattooed arm was a little sore, and he was a little irritated with the fact that he had slept unwell last night. So he yawned. Regarding the rest of the party, he decided to be silent unless called upon.