On the Frontier (DnD 3.5, Omega Thread)

[Klyth Manyclaw]

The sounds of merchants, townsfolk, and village life rise up over a relatively small, and unassuming town. Stone buildings with thatched roofs sit amongst green, springy grass. From within them, warm light issues out from glass-less windows, mere frames with shutters to either side to keep out the cold in harsh, winter months. It's pleasant out, spring-time in a frontier town where the townsfolk happily eke out a living through some form of trade.

The road you all stand on curves gently away, a wide, dirt path with treads dug deep where merchant carriages and horse-drawn wagons pass through. Behind you, visible beyond what, from your angle, appears to be a twenty-foot wide piece of wood on two thick, sturdy legs, can be seen a cobble-stone courtyard with two buildings fully visible, one to each side, and another of the thatch-roofed, two story shops partially obscured by the board. Before you, a far grander piece of architecture greets you. Two stories high, with neatly placed, granite bricks spaced perfectly along its sides, the Bounty Reclamation Office stands proud. Kept spotless, and with a large, metal sign with the aforementioned name and the stamp of Armaelon engraved upon it standing erect outside the tall, double-doors of thick wood, this building seems designed to give off an aura of respect, and of authority.

Before this mighty building, three prospective adventurers stand, each ready to use their skills. Whether it is Neezar, standing to one side, Mace and Shield stowed proudly in their respective places, each ready to be drawn at the slightest sign of danger, his only line of protection once the hordes of minions at his beck and call have been brought forth and then sent back to the planes and countries of their origin; or the aging necromancer, his sullen and bleak expression indicative of a tragic past; or even the stout dwarf, his black hair and vibrant, emerald eyes striking against otherwise average features, his axes crossed upon his back. These three have gathered together to become more than the sum of their parts, an entity to accomplish their goals, whether it be fame, power, or immortality.

Today, within the building before them, the path to their wishes may finally be realized, for within, the registration of themselves as a single, adventuring whole, and the option to gain wealth through their deeds, awaits.

[Niezck]

Edging nervously forward, somewhat in awe of the adventurers before him, Neezar speaks quietly.

So ... erm ... you're adventurers, right? Already knowing the answer, he continues. Can I ... erm ... come and fight the kobolds and stuff with you guys? Please?

[Sekolah]

Aye Lad. The more the merrier, The dwarf grumbles. What do you think we should be callin' ourselves then? If we're to make a name for ourselves we gotta have a title or somethin'.

[Niezck]

Well, erm, should we see what everyone's speciality is then we can come up with something appropriate? I can erm ... call things. Creatures. I can call them and they help me.

[Sekolah]

My strength is in meself. Strong of arm and strong of heart. Son of stone and steel as me father and his before him. I am Fjorn son of Bannar of clan Grayson.

[Tevin]

The tall middle aged man quietly took stock of his new companions before contemplating the questions. His brow furrows and a look as if he is listening to something in the distance is painted across his creased and weathered features. Finally glancing back to the dwarf and nervous lad he spoke "I can call energies from... somewhere. Powers over pain and affliction. As for a name... it seems we all have fairly differing abilities so perhaps something simple that doesn't really focus on who we are as individuals... The Triad? There are three of us."

His hand reaches up to idly scratch at his salt and pepper beard as he falls back into distant thoughts.

"Ah, my name is Azen by the way... Drath."

[Niezck]

Sure! The Triad sounds alright. So, erm, who wants to go sign us up? Not me please.

The young human shifts nervously and looks at the other two in turn.

[Sekolah]

I'll do it. With that the burly dwarf strides through the double doors of the Bounty Reclamation Office and strides up to the desk.
Mornin'. We're here to register.

[Klyth Manyclaw]

Two rows of desks stretch off in to the distance, easily twenty-five of the huge, wooden table/folder setups going to the back wall on either side. In the middle, a single row of various potted plants and wooden benches rounds out the general office-building feeling of the place.

The open desk the dwarf strides to is manned by a halfling man with a thick mustache and large, curving nose. Small, brown eyes look up from behind glass spectacles, and his brown uniform seems just slightly too large. In his hands he holds a hawk-feather quill, browns and golds patterning themselves along its entire length, and the metal tip ready to put ink to parchment.

"Register? Alright, I can do that, just give me a moment here..." The halfling hops down behind the desk, and the sound of a drawer sliding out can be heard. The rustle of paper, the slamming of wood, and the halfling is once again sitting back up upon his chair, an official-looking piece of parchment in his hand and a small smile on his face. "Alright, so, what'll you all be calling yourselves, and how many of 'you' are there?"

[Sekolah]

We be callin' ourselves The Triad. There're three of us accordingly.

[Klyth Manyclaw]

"Alright then, The Triad... 's got a nice ring to it, I gotta tell ya. Alright then, we'll just write that here... Got three people, write that here..." As the halfling narrates his own action, he acts accordingly, scrawling in tall, thin letters 'The Triad' and '3' in the correct places upon the official document. "Well then, looks like I'll just be needing your signatures, and you can get on with your new adventuring career."

The Halfling offers a broad grin as he turns the paper around, holding out a quill for the dwarf, and his friends, to sign.

[Tevin]

Azen grabs the quill and quickly scrawls his name onto the parchment before handing it to one of his new companions. "Well then, our next stop is the job board then, I take it..."

[Klyth Manyclaw]

The Halfling nods. "Yup, that'd be about the next place a new group'd want to go, once you've all got your licenses and such."

[Sekolah]

His part of the speaking done the dwarf merely takes the pen and signs.

[Niezck]

The young summoner looks slightly confused at first, but quickly takes the quill and scrawls his mark on the page - barely legibly.

[Klyth Manyclaw]

Upon completion, the halfling man quickly and decisively takes both the piece of parchment and the quill with nimble fingers, the ink flashing a dull, mystical blue as he slides it in to a folder upon his desk. He turns to one side, and quickly takes out three golden cards, shining like a freshly polished gold piece or other ornament made of the valuable metal, with the words, in an official looking, cursive script common to all the official signs of Armaelon, 'Adventuring License', punctuating the front. Upon the back, glowing as if carved in to heated metal, are their names, exactly as they had signed them, slowly starting to 'cool' upon the back. As the Halfling hands each person their card, they would notice it feels cool and metallic to the touch, with a comforting heat emanating from their names.

The short receptionist then smiles. "Well, I think that'll be everything. Luck on your adventures, and may your days be long within the Hawk's gaze! And stick it to the kobolds and goblins if you can!" He grins. "But seriously, have fun. Adventuring's the best thrill-seeking you're gonna get, or so I've heard."

[Sekolah]

I guess we should be headin' out then. Where to now lads? Asks the dwarf as he begins to walk out of the building.

(OOC: What time of day is it? Should we set out for some baddies right away or hole up in an inn for the night?)

[Klyth Manyclaw]

((OOC DM Note: It's mid-morning, fairly decent out. You could quite easily go out and hunt the various kobolds and goblins immediately, if you wanted to.))

[Niezck]

It's still light, we could go now?

He pauses for thought.

Let's go now!

[Sekolah]

Chuckling at the summoner's enthusiasm Fjorn nods his head, "Aye, me axes're itchin' fer some vermin blood. I say we head out."

[Klyth Manyclaw]

Four roads lead out from Daeglor to the lands around; To the northwest, the path to the Logger's Camp leads out, guarded by townsfolk in need of work now that the kobold and goblin menace has decimated their homes, leads out to the new logging camp. To the northeast, the old Mining road leads to a large, abandoned mine, said to now be the residency of spiders as large as men, and hungry for flesh. To the southeast, the old Mountain pass, a merchant's road-turned-goblin stronghold by the invading forces, stands as a centerpoint of Goblin operations in the area, and to the southwest, the old farmlands, perhaps the most dangerous place of them all. Warning signs and danger notices advise away from entering the farm-lands all over the town, for dangers there only the more experienced in combat among them should even attempt. Each road carries its own rewards, and each its own risks, but the final option is left to the Triad.

[Sekolah]

"Perhaps the mining road should be our first path. What say you lads?"

[Niezck]

Sure, whatever you guys want ... I guess ...

The summoner shifts slightly, now facing the reality of his decision to fight.

[Sekolah]

"Let's take a look at the job board to see what's available. Perhaps that'll give us a direction." Without waiting for an answer the dwarf walks over to the board and starts looking at the various postings.

[Niezck]

Sure, that sounds like a good starting point.

The shakey human follows him over to the job board and begins pondering the notices there.

((Should someone PM Tevin?))

[Klyth Manyclaw]

The board is covered in a myriad of notices, many mundane, many more adventurous in quality. Everything from horse-grooming ads three weeks old to a slew of fresh notices about the goblin and kobold menace of the town. In particular, two things jump out at you; A merchant named Magirolus Dartwand is in need of someone to slay Goblins for him, and Menora Featherwind, head of the Logging Camp to the north, has need of someone to help deal with the kobold raids. Each presents an additional, undefined reward for the service of any brave, young adventurers; Magirolus' giving discounts on his stock of magical items, and Menora offering straight, gold-piece compensation.

Magirolus' offer is written upon a large piece of parchment written in looping, purple ink. The offer of the Logging Camp Forewoman, Menora Featherwind, is written in a simplistic font, straight to the point and with a very spartan appearance; no flourish or decadence, a simple call to the challenge of adventuring, for any brave enough to seek her out.

[Sekolah]

"I don't know about the both of ya but I'm inclined to go for the straight gold. I've not exactly got the gold to be worrying about magical items."

[Niezck]

I think the magic item discount would be better saved for later. So, shall we go see this Menora?

[Sekolah]

"I believe the nor'west is where we be headed now."



((OOC: Any word from Tevin at all? This could get lethal with only the two of us.))

[Klyth Manyclaw]

((Afraid I haven't heard anything yet from him. Would you like me to continue the game and see how you do, or would you like to wait till we can hear from him? I'll do my best to make it fair for you guys, but I can't promise that this'll be a cake-walk. You are, after all, going in to the territory of Loggers and trap-happy lizards.))

[Sekolah]

((I'd love to keep going. I don't expect easy. :smalltongue:))

[Niezck]

((I'd want to continue. And after all, we do have my pet wolf to help us :smalltongue:))

[Klyth Manyclaw]

((Alright. :smallbiggrin: Then let's get this slaughter-fest on!))
The group sets off northward, for the Logger's camp. Coming upon the road leading out of town, they find tall, wooden walls build out of logs jammed in to hastily made holes in the ground, often at odd angles to each other. The butts of spikes stick out visibly behind the wall, slicing forward towards the towering forest. Emerald and forest greens dominate the woodland landscape, tall trees with sides covered in moss rising above an undergrowth covered floor. The only path not thick with brush is a dirt road spiraling outward in to the forest, with a crude, wooden sign reading 'Logger's Camp -- Ahead.' Thin slash marks and a few actual chips are knocked out of the sign, and the spikes upon the wall are similarly treated.
Three men hefting large axes over their shoulder, dressed in leather armor covered in small studs, lean against the space between the two walls the path emerges from. One of them looks over, and noticing the two, raises an eyebrow. "'Ey there, where d'you think yer goin'?" he asks gruffly. "Y'don't look like loggers, 'n most o' them advent'rers come in groups o' four 'r five. Any p'rticular reasonin' you've decided to take a stroll 'n this hell-hole?"

[Niezck]

Erm ... The nervous young man looks toward the dwarf stood next to him for the answer.

[Sekolah]

"We're here to speak ta Featherwind 'bout a job. We've heard you're having a bit of trouble with some kobolds and we thought we might lend a hand."

The dwarf steps forward and puffs out his chest a bit as he addresses the men, as if to show that two was all they needed.

[Klyth Manyclaw]

The men look you over for a moment, and then snort. "If'n you say so. Y'don't look like ya'll h've gotten a lot'f exp'rience batt'lin' the lil' scaly bastards." He leans in closer, his voice at once rising with the rhythm of a storyteller and falling to a hush in the quiet space leading to the woodlands. "Once y've seen one o' yer friends..." his eyes turn to the young summoner for a brief moment, "...torn t'shred's in the mouth of a yawnin' maw of spikes dug twenty-feet deep inna th'ground, 'r a weasel th'size f'a man rip the arm clean from y'r own body, y'll not be wantin' to 'help' anymore'n a' rest 'f us." He shakes his head. "We'll let y'go forew'rd. J'st don't be surprised when good ol' Partilon's telling ye he told'ja so."

[Sekolah]

"My thanks, we'll be on our way then."

With that the Dwarf continues walking.

[Niezck]

M..M..Maw of spikes? Tearing your arm off? Oh gods ...

The young summoner falls in rank behind the dwarf, quivering slightly and going silent, his wolf in toe.

[Sekolah]

"Buck up laddie, I won't let'cha die."

[Klyth Manyclaw]

The path winds through the forest, the trees growing up higher and higher around you until the only light comes in beams between thick foliage. The air is thick with the smell of decaying foliage and the ground padded with it beneath your feet. The sounds of yelling and sawing can be heard vaguely in the distance, but your eyes are still kept from the camp by the thicket of the forests.

Suddenly, from the forest around the pair, the sound of a thin whistle can vaguely discerned above the bird calls normally resounding between the trees. The forest comes alive about you as five small, vaguely humanoid creatures burst out of the bushes and undergrowth surrounding the trail. Their bodies are covered in greenish-gray scales, speckled with black along the tops, and their eyes glint an emerald green in the forest light. Four of the three-foot, vaguely reptilian creatures are clothed in a roughly sewn jackets of leaves, small plants seemingly 'growing' from the artificial back. The fifth, an inch or two taller than the rest, throws off his forest-floor camouflage to reveal a breastplate of iron, covered in mud and sticks to allow him to more easily hide alongside the road. His shoulder-plates are each carved with the head of a dragon snarling out to the sides, and a metal mask covers the top of his head, shaped as the top of a green dragon's skull, the eye-holes letting the emerald glint of his death-glare look in to you.

The four smaller creatures hold long, wooden spears in their hands, each tipped with a sharp point, while the larger, fifth creature draws a sword from each side of his belt. Short and straight, their blades are painted an emerald green, the handle wrapped in brown leather, the blades' edges painted a dark, brownish red with caked blood.

The large reptilian begins in common, accented with growls and snarls typical of a draconic-speaking creature, "Travelers! Halt! What business have you on the road of the Treespear tribe?"

[Niezck]

I ... erm ... we ... He knows.

I cower slightly behind the dwarf, with my wolf emitting a low growl.

[Sekolah]

"We're headed to the loggin' camp. We were told this would be the road to take. Now if you don't mind, we'll be continuin' on our way."

Fjorn pulls the crossed axes from his back and casually swings them in his hands while looking at the lead Kobold.

Intimidation check - [roll0] (that includes the +4 from being bigger than him)

[Klyth Manyclaw]

The kobold snarls, hunching down and backing up from the dwarf. "...h-have it as you will, d-dwarf!" It turns around, hiding its face from the smaller followers as best it can, and disappears back in to the trees. A few of the kobolds in the back look around, surprised, between each other, and then they too retreat back in to the dense foliage from which they had gone.