"Lem!" He calls out again. A second spear bearing figure in a poncho joins the first. He keeps his spear raised.
"Aw, their just travelers, Clem. No need to get riled up." Lem taps Clem on the shoulder, who keeps his spear leveled towards you but seems to relax.
"What's your business?" Clem calls out. "And what caravan?"
Lem walks over slowly, and looks over into the cart. "Aw hell!" He jumps back away. As he approached, you managed to get a good look at his face - hook nosed with sandy, thinning hair. "What's the meaning of this?"
Keeping her voice soft but clear she replies: "You have nothing to fear from us fellows. We travelled with Ottaker's caravan, he was kind enough to allow us to travel with him..." Her voice now turns sorrowful - "But alas the poor soul did not make it. We were attacked by mysterious beings and Ottaker's lead cart was struck by a lightning bolt of unnatural source. We could not help him, by the time we reached his cart him and his cart hands were gone. The least we could do was offer them a proper burial."
"Ah. Another one." says Clem, finally raising his spear. "Sad to say it happens often enough. We'll take it form here, miss. Town priest's got some rituals to cast over the remains to keep 'em from coming back." Lem nods in agreement. "Dark times. We'll be around later to ask a few more questions - your business in town, contents of the caravan, so on. Till then, head on over to the Wandering Rook. They'll take care you of you there."
With that, Clem moves forward to unharness Khan from the sled, flinching slightly at the slack forms within.
Troubled at the news that this is becoming a common occurrence and the comments about the arisen, especially after what she had sensed on the road she so desperately wishes to learn more of this, but equally weary after the events on the road Marion simply nods to the two men and says "Thank you" before turning to the Dwarf and Half-Orc who had aided her. "My thanks to you also friends. Allow me to buy you a good meal friends..." and after taking a good look at the Dwarf she adds with a smile "and Ale, I'm sure that will suffice as divine reward!"
I've never been one to pass on a meal...the guard said he'd be back with questions but I don't know what the caravan contained. There isn't much honest work around for my kind so I didn't ask many questions. Dajur looks to the others as he starts towards the Wandering Rock, hoping they have some insight into the situation.
During the first half of the encounter Ghengis' hands never strayed far from his axe strapped across his back. He relaxes after the two men showed themselves to be friendly. "Whatever the gods got can't be half as good as solid dwarven ale. But what worries me is this talk of the undead. If it don't bleed don't trust it, is what I say. " The dwarf proceeds to lapse into a disjointed and unintelligible tale of ale, zombie orcs, and a magical boot as he stomps back to the inn.
After listening to the Dwarves curious tale and shaking her head, at the most outlandish segments in particular, Marion turns to the Half-Orc who seems a little lost and looking for answers: ”I don’t know about zombie Orcs and magical boots, but I too am worried at the mention of undead. I sensed an undead power departing after the caravan was attacked, there is something afoot here in Dalben. I hope that we will get more answers later, but for now I’ll settle for being dry.”
Heading back towards the center of town, you approach the Wandering Rook. The building is broad, sturdily built on stone foundations that rise slightly above the lower muddy ground around, and it features a second story. The entrance juts out slightly into the street, implying a cloak room of sorts, and as you approach you can already almost taste the roast lamb wafting towards you on the stormy wind.
Ghengis will not be delayed from his ale any longer. Taking the steps two at a time, he kicks open the door and charges into the inn, breathing heavily and bellowing for a mug of good dwarven ale.
He immediately impacts what feels like a second metal door, immediately behind the first. Stumbling back, and bleeding slightly from the nose, his eyes slowly strain upwards towards the head of an enormous construct, fully blocking the inner entrance to the inn. Hearing the clang of impact from inside, another voice starts bellowing from within.
"MAGNUS! GET OFF THE POTENTIAL CUSTOMERS!" A string of curses in muddled dwarf follow, hollowly echoing through the sternum of the immense warforged.
If Ghengis were not so taken off guard the construct would have suffered an axe to the stomach. As it is, the dwarf can only wipe away the blood from his steaming nose and stare dumbfoundedly.
"MAGNUS! DOWN! AT EASE! WHERE'S HIS MANUAL!" The angry shouting continues as you squeeze by the construct's frame and fine yourselves in a comfortable and surprisingly crowded inn. Noticing Bristen esconced at the end of a large, heavy set oaken table, you join him. He is already nursing a frothy ale, and within moments a winking gnome bearing an overloaded tray headed for another table stops by. Dressed in dark blue livery of some kind, he stops long enough to trill out, "4 copper for the basic meal and drink, 1 silver for the full treatment. 2 copper for animals, 6 for a shared bed, and another silver for a private room. Arven'll be out in a minute, if he remembers where he put the manual." And with that, and not a further word, he disappears into the shifting crowd. There are easily over fifty people crowded into the room, each somehow finding space to sit, eat, laugh, sing, tell stories, and find warmth in companionship. Two great fireplaces on opposite ends of the room provide heat, and a series of colorful lanterns - red, yellow, and orange - provide additional light. In the corner, a raised bar serves as a kind of watchtower over the revelry, and occasionally you can barely make out random bumping and shifting going on behind it, out of sight for the moment. You have drawn a few eyes as you entered the room, however. It's hard to track them all down at once, but you get the sense of being watched constantly by the other patrons.
Moving past the Dwarf, briefly glancing at the construct he has walked into, she follows the Half-Orc towards their awaiting companion who had saved them a table. Before sitting she moves over to the fire and removes her pack and place it next to the fire, taking great care to place it so that a large roll of exquisite blue cloth is facing the fire. As she sits at the table she looks to the Half-Elf and says "Greetings once more. The food and ale is on me tonight friend, please eat to your satisfaction."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Bristen
Bristen smiles as his companions join him "Welcome, I trust your quest to see the bodies off was successful?" The ale is less watered down than I'm used to." He glances around the room to get a feel of it, having been in enough similar rooms to base it on. Lowering his voice "These people look strangely happy for having monsters such as the ones we encountered on their doorstep, be aware"
While the revelry is certainly intense, there are no signs of it being forced or ingenuine. If anything, it seems as if the outer darkness encroaching has only encouraged the common folk to band together and celebrate what good they have remaining to them.
A moment later, the same gnome who passed by earlier unexpectedly appears about two inches from Bristen's elbow, audibly tapping hit foot and beaming expectantly at the newcomers. "Well!"
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"Lem!" He calls out again. A second spear bearing figure in a poncho joins the first. He keeps his spear raised.
"Aw, their just travelers, Clem. No need to get riled up." Lem taps Clem on the shoulder, who keeps his spear leveled towards you but seems to relax.
"What's your business?" Clem calls out. "And what caravan?"
Lem walks over slowly, and looks over into the cart. "Aw hell!" He jumps back away. As he approached, you managed to get a good look at his face - hook nosed with sandy, thinning hair. "What's the meaning of this?"
Marion
Keeping her voice soft but clear she replies: "You have nothing to fear from us fellows. We travelled with Ottaker's caravan, he was kind enough to allow us to travel with him..." Her voice now turns sorrowful - "But alas the poor soul did not make it. We were attacked by mysterious beings and Ottaker's lead cart was struck by a lightning bolt of unnatural source. We could not help him, by the time we reached his cart him and his cart hands were gone. The least we could do was offer them a proper burial."
"Ah. Another one." says Clem, finally raising his spear. "Sad to say it happens often enough. We'll take it form here, miss. Town priest's got some rituals to cast over the remains to keep 'em from coming back." Lem nods in agreement. "Dark times. We'll be around later to ask a few more questions - your business in town, contents of the caravan, so on. Till then, head on over to the Wandering Rook. They'll take care you of you there."
With that, Clem moves forward to unharness Khan from the sled, flinching slightly at the slack forms within.
Marion
Troubled at the news that this is becoming a common occurrence and the comments about the arisen, especially after what she had sensed on the road she so desperately wishes to learn more of this, but equally weary after the events on the road Marion simply nods to the two men and says "Thank you" before turning to the Dwarf and Half-Orc who had aided her. "My thanks to you also friends. Allow me to buy you a good meal friends..." and after taking a good look at the Dwarf she adds with a smile "and Ale, I'm sure that will suffice as divine reward!"
I've never been one to pass on a meal...the guard said he'd be back with questions but I don't know what the caravan contained. There isn't much honest work around for my kind so I didn't ask many questions. Dajur looks to the others as he starts towards the Wandering Rock, hoping they have some insight into the situation.
During the first half of the encounter Ghengis' hands never strayed far from his axe strapped across his back. He relaxes after the two men showed themselves to be friendly. "Whatever the gods got can't be half as good as solid dwarven ale. But what worries me is this talk of the undead. If it don't bleed don't trust it, is what I say. " The dwarf proceeds to lapse into a disjointed and unintelligible tale of ale, zombie orcs, and a magical boot as he stomps back to the inn.
Flayr Flameseeker | Genasi/Fire | Wizard/School of Evocation | Level 2 | Custom Campaign: Cold Cash
Marion
After listening to the Dwarves curious tale and shaking her head, at the most outlandish segments in particular, Marion turns to the Half-Orc who seems a little lost and looking for answers: ”I don’t know about zombie Orcs and magical boots, but I too am worried at the mention of undead. I sensed an undead power departing after the caravan was attacked, there is something afoot here in Dalben. I hope that we will get more answers later, but for now I’ll settle for being dry.”
Heading back towards the center of town, you approach the Wandering Rook. The building is broad, sturdily built on stone foundations that rise slightly above the lower muddy ground around, and it features a second story. The entrance juts out slightly into the street, implying a cloak room of sorts, and as you approach you can already almost taste the roast lamb wafting towards you on the stormy wind.
What order do you enter?
Ghengis will not be delayed from his ale any longer. Taking the steps two at a time, he kicks open the door and charges into the inn, breathing heavily and bellowing for a mug of good dwarven ale.
Flayr Flameseeker | Genasi/Fire | Wizard/School of Evocation | Level 2 | Custom Campaign: Cold Cash
He immediately impacts what feels like a second metal door, immediately behind the first. Stumbling back, and bleeding slightly from the nose, his eyes slowly strain upwards towards the head of an enormous construct, fully blocking the inner entrance to the inn. Hearing the clang of impact from inside, another voice starts bellowing from within.
"MAGNUS! GET OFF THE POTENTIAL CUSTOMERS!" A string of curses in muddled dwarf follow, hollowly echoing through the sternum of the immense warforged.
If Ghengis were not so taken off guard the construct would have suffered an axe to the stomach. As it is, the dwarf can only wipe away the blood from his steaming nose and stare dumbfoundedly.
Flayr Flameseeker | Genasi/Fire | Wizard/School of Evocation | Level 2 | Custom Campaign: Cold Cash
As he walks in Dajur casts prestidigitation to clean the blood from Ghengis.
Bristen
Seeing his road-mates come in he waves them over.
Overcoming his initial surprise, Ghengis knocks on the breastplate of the construct. "Anybody home? "
Flayr Flameseeker | Genasi/Fire | Wizard/School of Evocation | Level 2 | Custom Campaign: Cold Cash
Dajur looks about (Perception 8 ) as he goes to join Bristen.
Marion, come, I see our coworker . Let's join him. After the road I'm looking forward to the road as much as the food.
Magnus tips his head down to look at the dwarf that just bounced off his chest.
Hello little one. He looks up to watch the other two. There will be no fighting in this Inn. Any violators will be punished....severely.
Magnus M-019: Warforged Juggernaut Fighter, Level 1
"MAGNUS! DOWN! AT EASE! WHERE'S HIS MANUAL!" The angry shouting continues as you squeeze by the construct's frame and fine yourselves in a comfortable and surprisingly crowded inn. Noticing Bristen esconced at the end of a large, heavy set oaken table, you join him. He is already nursing a frothy ale, and within moments a winking gnome bearing an overloaded tray headed for another table stops by. Dressed in dark blue livery of some kind, he stops long enough to trill out, "4 copper for the basic meal and drink, 1 silver for the full treatment. 2 copper for animals, 6 for a shared bed, and another silver for a private room. Arven'll be out in a minute, if he remembers where he put the manual." And with that, and not a further word, he disappears into the shifting crowd. There are easily over fifty people crowded into the room, each somehow finding space to sit, eat, laugh, sing, tell stories, and find warmth in companionship. Two great fireplaces on opposite ends of the room provide heat, and a series of colorful lanterns - red, yellow, and orange - provide additional light. In the corner, a raised bar serves as a kind of watchtower over the revelry, and occasionally you can barely make out random bumping and shifting going on behind it, out of sight for the moment. You have drawn a few eyes as you entered the room, however. It's hard to track them all down at once, but you get the sense of being watched constantly by the other patrons.
Marion
Moving past the Dwarf, briefly glancing at the construct he has walked into, she follows the Half-Orc towards their awaiting companion who had saved them a table. Before sitting she moves over to the fire and removes her pack and place it next to the fire, taking great care to place it so that a large roll of exquisite blue cloth is facing the fire. As she sits at the table she looks to the Half-Elf and says "Greetings once more. The food and ale is on me tonight friend, please eat to your satisfaction."
Bristen
Bristen smiles as his companions join him "Welcome, I trust your quest to see the bodies off was successful?" The ale is less watered down than I'm used to." He glances around the room to get a feel of it, having been in enough similar rooms to base it on. Lowering his voice "These people look strangely happy for having monsters such as the ones we encountered on their doorstep, be aware"
perception 9
While the revelry is certainly intense, there are no signs of it being forced or ingenuine. If anything, it seems as if the outer darkness encroaching has only encouraged the common folk to band together and celebrate what good they have remaining to them.
A moment later, the same gnome who passed by earlier unexpectedly appears about two inches from Bristen's elbow, audibly tapping hit foot and beaming expectantly at the newcomers. "Well!"