When the Going Gets Tough IC

[Othesemo]

IC/OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=13373819#post13373819)

There are cities in the world that would make your jaw drop. Cities of wonders, so magnificent that to simply look at them is as to gaze upon the face of divinity. They are the pinnacle of human culture, and one within them could every day seek out a new wonder and never repeat himself for fifty years.

Aldalar is not such a city.

Today is a day like any other. The sun hangs stagnant in the air, seemingly ignorant of its duty to move across the sky. Even from here, miles from the coast, the smell of the sea floats through the air, bringing with it an oppressive humidity. For one without work, there is little to do but sit, watching the city, fanning oneself and praying that just a single cloud will pass over the sun, bringing with it the first true rainstorm in months.

Fortunately for such people, however, Aldalar is not entirely devoid of activity. Today, a local college of bards is performing in an amphitheater near the center of the market district. More importantly, they are doing so free of charge- and little draws crowds so swiftly as the jingle of money they need not spend. Above the low chatter rises the quiet singing of a lone woman on the stage. She is not a poor performer, and her words make pleasant contrast to the oppressive quiet which so often covers the city. Many others seem to think so as well- the amphitheater is all but packed by vagabonds, thieves, and any others who lack regular employ. No doubt because of this, several armed guardsmen stand around the perimeter of the theater, glancing suspiciously about the crowd. Every so often, one of the bards will walk down the aisles with a small bowl, asking for donations.

The bards have been performing since the early morning, and the theater has filled quickly. You were not so early as the others in the theater, and find yourself consigned to a long table nearly ten feet from the rim of the amphitheater.

[GFawkes]

"I still don't see how the daughter of a diplomat could fall so easily into a con like that."

"Does it really matter? I mean, we didn't lose anything."

"Because we don't have anything to lose. If we'd been more cautious with the funds we had-"

"You mean that handful of coins you had in your pocket?"

Wendin raised a hand and opened his mouth to object, then thought wiser and retracted both. He and Eliani'i had been travelling for about a week since their last purchase of supply, and material was running low. While they'd picked up odd jobs here and there, it was barely enough to survive on.

Moving towards the amphitheater, Eliani'i shows an interest in the area that gave the near instant reveal that she wasn't local. Wendin watched silently, a look on his face that seemed to say "Please make her realize this isn't Happy Fun Sunshine Land".

Upon entering the theater, the two find a table near the back and sit down. Seeing the performance, Eliani'i gets an idea. "Hey, do you think they'll let us perform up there?"

"I doubt it. Neither of us has an instrument and I sing like an ox." Wendin's response merits a light slap on the head.

"I meant sparring. We do it every day, why not get some money for it?"

"Could work. We'll flag one of them down in a little bit. For now, let's just enjoy the show." With that, Wendin leans back in his chair, eyes on the stage.

[planswalker]

A halfling in golden scale armor approaches the two. "Greetings, friends! Can you tell me if this fine city has a church to Bahamut, the Platinum Knight?"

[GFawkes]

"Oh, hi there! I don't know about temple to Bahamut, but I don't think there'd be one since he's more of a dragon-god and not many people seem that dragon-y around here. I'm Eliani'i Dialleria, and this is Wendin Preson. What's your name?" Eliani'i responds in a happy voice to the halfling. Wendin just places his hand over his face.

[Ajadea]

At the very end of the long table sits a blond halfling youth - probably out of childhood, but only just. He seems to have decided the idea of sitting at a table that came up to his nose wasn't really acceptable - instead, he sits on the table, feet swinging through the air. His clothes are dusty from the road. Down on the bench, where most people would sit, there is instead a halfling-sized backpack. A crumpled little cloth tag proclaims it to be the property of one Thomas Brightrook. Hopefully it does indeed belong to the halfling.

"I'm not being stupid, Matt. It's too hot out to go searching for witches. And damp. Though that just proves she's here. How else could it be so damp and hot and dry all at the same time?" he asks someone, presumably Matt. The being named Matt is not immediately evident; in fact, Thomas Brightrook, presuming that is indeed his name, appears to be sitting alone. This doesn't actually deter him in the least as he continues to prattle on, apparently oblivious to the lack of an audience. "And you like the music - you're smiling, I can tell." He pauses for a moment, listening to the silence. "Hmm. I'll consider it." Seemingly satisfied with his one-person conversation, the halfling falls silent and listens to the music.

[planswalker]

"Oh, hi there! I don't know about temple to Bahamut, but I don't think there'd be one since he's more of a dragon-god and not many people seem that dragon-y around here. I'm Eliani'i Dialleria, and this is Wendin Preson. What's your name?" Eliani'i responds in a happy voice to the halfling. Wendin just places his hand over his face.

"That is a shame. Still, it doesn't hurt to ask. I am Talehos Scalesheen, holy knight in service to Bahamut, the Order of the Maw. I am on a quest to relieve the suffering of this area because of the famine. What about you, what brings you to the city."

[Silverking]

*Waterfalls really are the best place to think,* Thought Lycus, sitting cross-legged under his personal favorite- an approximately five foot wide, twenty foot high shower about two and a half miles from his home. *The deafening sound blocks out everything else, giving one total peace.* Suddenly, a voice pierces his ears like fingernails on a flat piece of drawing slate. "Hey, do you think they'll let us perform up there?" Lycus flinches, scrunching up his face as the dream begins to fade around him, the sound of the peaceful waterfall becoming a steady din of voices and music, and the water itself becoming a drip of something onto his forehead.

Lycus clutches his face and begins to sit up, only to be stopped by a brutal combination of banging his head on the bottom of what seems to be a table, and the sudden feeling that the world had reversed its turn on its axis. Lycus groans and collapses once more, the new pain on the back of his head and the noises around him doing nothing to help his hangover. After a moment of wallowing in his own suffering, Lycus mumbles to himself and begins the arduous task of pulling himself up onto a bench.


Edit: Just in case it isn't apparent to anyone, Lycus is under the table. Not the best first impression.

[Ajadea]

A bump somewhere under where he's sitting seems to startle the halfling. He flops down onto his stomach, paying no heed to the fact this puts his boots on the same surface that people can and do eat off of, and peers under the table. When it becomes apparent that the man was attempting to emerge, he sits back up, though his boots remain more or less where they were. "Excuse me sir, but what were you doing under the table?" he asks.

[GFawkes]

Wendin starts rubbing his face, not even trying to stop Eliani'i.

"Well, we started out just travelling randomly, then realized neither of us knew how to hunt, so we had to stop at a nearby village to get some food, then we had to pay for it by stopping a runaway cow, then we traveled to the next city, and did some work with the city guard, then left because the mob said we had to, then went to another village, and-"

"We're here because we're looking for work," Wendin interrupts, "If you have a job for us, great. If you don't, then please do not talk to us. Eliani'i has a tendency to ramble and give away details that I'd rather not have publicly known." He says this with a short tone, as if something mentally had snapped or as if he were trying to prevent a specific incident from being known.

Three seconds after Wendin stops talking, Eliani'i starts again. "Sorry about him, he's just like that around other humanoids. But we'll never find work if we don't introduce ourselves to new people, so I'm not quite sure what his 'master plan' is."

[Othesemo]

As you speak, a short human in a charcoal gray cloak slides onto the far end of the bench. Despite the heat, his hood is pulled over his head. From the shadows, you can readily discern sharp, angular features. He holds a shallow cup of cider in his left hand, and stares intently at the woman on the stage, apparently ignoring you.

[Silverking]

Lycus glares at the small person. "I was searching for buried treasure. What in nightshade's tea do you think I was doing under a table?!" He growls, head throbbing all over. Twice so on the back, where a small lump is beginning to form. He sighs, thinking the halfling for a child. "Sorry about that, kid," he says with forced kindness, managing to get a leg over the bench, "This isn't exactly the best place to wake up from a nap."

[Jarian]

A tall, muscular man in crimson and black chain armor despite the oppressive heat slowly makes his way into the theater, glaring fiercely at anyone who moves into his way until they wilt under the weight of his stare.

The touch of dragons on the man is evident to even the most casual glance, though only his head and hands are uncovered. Coppery-red scales are layered across every inch of exposed flesh that you can see, from thin, nearly translucent scales on his elongated, almost reptillian face, to thick, worn scales across his knuckles. A line of wider, lengthy scales runs from the tip of his upper jaw on up his face, fanning out as it goes into an ever wider trail of longer and longer scales until they seem almost like oddly rigid hair near the top and back of his head. The frills on either side of his head where ears would be on a human have several holes poked through their membranes, and a variety of steel earrings dangle from the ragged punctures.

Having nowhere else to stand, let alone sit, the man makes his way to the long table and takes a seat. The scales above one blood red eye raise in what might be called the quirk of an eyebrow - had he eyebrows in the first place - as he observes the antics of the table's occupants, but he says nothing.

[planswalker]

"I myself have found it difficult to keep enough coin to do much here. Perhaps if we work together, an answer will be found."

As the coppery one sits down, Talehos perks up and takes notice that another scion of a dragon is here.

"Excuse me." He says to his companions and walks over to the coppery fellow.

"Greetings, fellow dragonchild. I am Talehos Scalesheen, great-grandchild of Aurhelios the Gold. May I have the honor of your name?" The halfling asks in draconic, his golden scales covering him from the neck down, golden eyes looking out from tawny skin beneath deep golden hair.

[Jarian]

Janik looks Talehos over, eyes flicking up and down the tiny dragonkin's form. Then he lets out a most undignified snort of amusement, jaws parting in what you take to be a wry smile.

<"A little small to be of the dragonblood1, aren't you?>, Janik replies, also in the sibilant but powerful draconic tongue. He reaches out one large hand to pat Talehos on the head from his seated position, as if to demonstrate just how small the halfling is.

<"Janik di'Suiaerl2,"> he says at last, withdrawing his hand to finger a half-inch thick ring of steel in one of his frills. <"I don't have any fancy titles. Never saw the point. One of the Blood, though... you can simply call me Janik, if you prefer.">

1Literally translated, this is something closer to "descendants of the Ancients".

2In draconic that comes across more as "Might of the Arcane" or "Arcane Might". Janik is mostly unaware of the connotations.

[planswalker]

"Nice to meet your acquaintance, Janik. Aye, I am small. But don't think that makes me useless. Sometimes the small wyrmling can reach that which the great wyrm cannot."

[Ajadea]

Lycus glares at the small person. "I was searching for buried treasure. What in nightshade's tea do you think I was doing under a table?!" He growls, head throbbing all over. Twice so on the back, where a small lump is beginning to form. He sighs, thinking the halfling for a child. "Sorry about that, kid," he says with forced kindness, managing to get a leg over the bench, "This isn't exactly the best place to wake up from a nap."

The halfling doesn't appear to be remotely fazed by being called a kid. He pushes himself up into a sitting position, though his feet remain on the table."If I knew, I wouldn't have asked," he says in a very matter of fact sort of way. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Thomas, of the Brightrook Caravan, but you can call me Tom. All my friends do. And this is Matt," he adds. Such a behavior would be very normal indeed if this Matt person was visible. However, Tom appears to be gesturing at the empty air next to him, in a space where he had not put his feet.

[Silverking]

"Lycus Hood. Nice to meet you Tom.." Lycus mumbled, squinting in the sunlight at the blank space. "Now, it might just be me, but I don't see anyone sitting next to you." *Perhaps Matt is some sort of imaginary friend,* He thought, *probably common with lonely children around here. I wonder..* Lycus could not finish his thought though, as another wave of pain emanated from his skull.

[Othesemo]

At the sound of the draconic language, the hooded man at the end of the bench shifts in visible discomfort. For a moment, he looks as if he were about to speak. He seems to reconsider, however, and instead brings his bowl of cider to his lips, drinking deeply. He lays the now empty bowl to rest by his left hand and rests his head upon his fist, having apparently tired of the performance. A moment of silence passes, and he seems entirely lost in thought.

Without warning, his head snaps toward you. Addressing the table at large, he speaks, his pleasant baritone voice somewhat obscured by a Slavic accent. "Excuse me," he says, looking genuinely embarrassed, "But I cannot help but over hear you. You say that you are looking for work, I believe?" His right hand falls to his side, grabbing a small leather pouch, which he pulls from his belt and lets fall onto the table. From it the unmistakable jingle of coin can be heard. "Perhaps we may be helping each other, eh?" He looks about at you expectantly.

[planswalker]

Talehos listens on, but he doesn't stop his conversation either.

[Ajadea]

"Well, Mr. Hood, he's kinda minorly cursed at the moment," Tom says. He glances at the empty space for a moment, then amends his statement. "Well, not really minor. Matt's invisible right now. Can't touch him either. That's why I'm here - to fix that little issue." He seems to be quite serious about this - there is no trace of mischief in his expression or demeanor.

When the hooded man speaks, he again seems to trade glances with the invisible Matt before replying. "Work? Er, what sort?" He shifts his position, then glares at where Matt would be. "Yeah, I know! Be quiet, I think they're staring again," he says in a whisper that's a bit too loud.

[Othesemo]

Now that the man is facing you, you begin to doubt that he's entirely human. His face is too narrow, and too angular. "Oh, nothing dangerous, I assure you. You see, a friend of mine is to come into this city in some hours, along with a caravan of... goods. Foods, mostly. However, I have heard most troubling rumors that some of the refugees outside the city have fallen to banditry, and I fear for my friend's safety. I cannot protect him myself, of course." At this, he opens his arms, displaying his remarkably thin chest, covered only by fraying fabric. "However, you lot seem considerably more formidable. I have little gold, I admit, but I would give all of it to ensure that my friend, and his food, reaches me safely."

[Jarian]

<"And sometimes the little wyrmling gets crushed underfoot!"> Janik replies, then roars with laughter, though it seems more good-natured than cruel. As the hooded stranger drops the coins on the table, Janik places an ivory fingerclaw several inches in length over Talehos's mouth. <"Now hush, little wyrmling. I think this one means to give me a bed to sleep in and a hot meal to eat at last!">

Switching to the common tongue, Janik regards the hooded man with slitted eyes. "You want us for guards?" he asks, a hint of excitement in his voice. He clenches and unclenches his clawed hands several times, apparently without noticing. Then his eyes narrow suspiciously. "Why choose us?"

[Othesemo]

The man nods solemnly. "I wish to take no chances in this matter. And you do not look like the sort of people who would leave things to chance."

[Jarian]

Janik half-opens his mouth to voice an objection, then thinks better of it and snaps his jaws together with a click. He can't help shooting a glance at Tom, however.

"If you say so," he says, shrugging massive shoulders. "Guarding has been my life in one form or another for years. You'll get no argument from me as long as your information is true and your coin pure."

[Othesemo]

A wide grin breaks across the man's face, and he exhales in relief. He stands and walks toward Janik, extending his hand. "It is good to have a guard I can trust. I am Dmytro, of no family that I am knowing of. Should your friends be as agreeable as you, I shall be a happy man indeed, sir..." He trails off expectantly, still holding his hand out toward you.

[planswalker]

Having heard that sometimes evil dragons will disguise as metallic ones, Talehos will detect evil towards the floor around his companion's feet.

After reassuring himself that this is just another example of a sizeist, Talehos will listen in on the hooded man's offer, canceling his detect evil effect. A 60 foot cone into such a crowd would be useless.

[Jarian]

Janik stares at the man's waiting hand for a long moment before responding. "Janik. And I prefer to keep my hands free, if it's all the same. Never know when you'll need to-" His hand makes a clutching gesture and stabs down toward the table in a flash of red and copper; in the instant it takes to reach the table, a steel dirk appears in his grip and thunks into the thick board. A heartbeat later, it disappears in a puff of multicolored smoke.

"-pull a knife on someone." he finishes, smiling grimly. "You understand, I'm sure."

[Othesemo]

The man's eyes widen, and he snatches his hand back faster than you would have thought possible. To his credit, he manages to avoid screaming, though this seems to have taken no small effort on his part. "A fair point," he says, his voice somewhat strained. He glances about the table. "Can you all do that? If so, I may stop worrying for my friend this minute, I am thinking." A small, nervous laugh escapes from his mouth.



Talehos, Lycus
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice one of the guardsmen has turned to look at Janik, surprised by the display. He begins to walk closer, glancing toward the swordmage periodically.

[Silverking]

Lycus stares at the empty space with disbelief. *I've never seen a child with an explanation before.* Before he can continue the thought or reply however, a commotion that the table distracts him. Something about work, and the jingle of coins. *Ha, who would have known collapseing under a table would find me better work than walking around town?!* He thought, grinning. Suddenly, the table jars, and he turns from his new acquaintance (Lycus took time to call people his friend) and turned to the scene behind him. A strange man just pulled a knife out of thin air -- Then put it back! *Neat trick. Wish I could do that* Lycus thought with a sigh. A split second later, unusual movement behind the man. A guard approaching. Standing and walking between the two, Lycus leaned in a mumbled "Perhaps we should take this somewhere else. We don't know who else could be watching," he motions at the gaurd with his eyes, " I know of a great in where the beer flows like water. Perhaps we can meet there?"

[Othesemo]

For a moment, the man seems confused, before he turns his head, following your eyes. He turns back to you quickly, and further pulls down his hood. "Yes, I am thinking that may be for the best," he mutters, resentment in his voice. He motions to the stage with his shoulder. "The woman's taking a break anyway. I doubt that any of the others will be so skilled as she was."

[Ajadea]

The appearance of the knife seems to startle Thomas, but he doesn't seem frightened. Indeed, he seems a little disappointed when it vanishes. "We'll help you too, then, Mister Dim - er, Da - um... Can I just call you Mister D?" His enthusiastic declaration turns into a sheepish question sometime around the second mispronounciation of the man's name. He breaks eye contact in favor of staring at the table.

[GFawkes]

Eliani'i is surprisingly quiet for the duration. Mostly because she'd learned that Wendin was better for negotiations relating to work. He keeps an eye on Mr. Dmytro, then eventually makes a decision. "We'll help you."

Wendin will be attempting to Sense Motive on the group's benefactor.
[roll0]

[Othesemo]

Relief is plain on the man's face. "Excellent," he says, glancing over his shoulder. "But I am thinking that this man here (at this point he gesture's toward Lycus) is wise to say that we should be moving. Let us follow him to this place he speaks of, and I can tell you whatever you wish to know. And let us not forget payment," he says with a wink.


Wendin
Although less than subtle in expressing his emotions, the man is surprisingly difficult to read. Though Wendin pays the utmost attention to his words and mannerisms, he can deduce little beyond what Dmytro has said.

[Silverking]

Noting the majority of the table's agreement to the matter, Lycus nods. "Alright then, unless anyone has a problem with it, we meet at The Jolly Pemtrils in an hour." He glances at Janik, obviously a bit worried as to why he thinks this man looks sort of like a dragon, "Until then, I think I'm going to go lie down."

[planswalker]

Talehos follows the group over to the meeting place, staying quiet for now.

[GFawkes]

"An hour it is then. Which way to The Jolly Pemtrils? I think we might be sparring in a bit."

[Ajadea]

"Jolly Pemtrils? Okay. Let's go, then!" Thomas hops off the table and grabs his bag. He's out the door in a flash, without waiting for anyone to follow him.

He gets about three blocks before stopping and accosting the nearest stranger to ask where the Jolly Pemtrils are.

Take 10 Diplomacy: 14.

[Jarian]

After a momentary hesitation, Janik follows along with a sour expression on his face, though whether displeased with the company or the delay is not immediately clear.

[Othesemo]

The following hour passes slowly. The sun inches across the sky, as below it crowds of men and women stagger across the street, whether from hunger or heat. Even the Jolly Pemtrils finds it difficult to live up to its name- lukewarm beer can do little for the heat, and so many standing a single room does not lend itself to cool, refreshing breezes.

You have heard of this building as 'A place where the beer flows like water.' Perhaps this was truer in older times- now, it seems like a place where water flows like beer. Regardless, they have kept their traditional policy- a single gold piece to enter, and all the (watered down) ale you can drink. If you wish for something to eat, or anything better to drink, you must pay more.

Fortunately, a table in the far corner of the room is unoccupied, save for a single drunk who looks as if he would be better suited for the floor. Long benches, covered in occasional splashes of what you hope is ale, provide a resting place if you are so inclined. At either end of the table sits a large wooden chair.

[planswalker]

Talehos joins everyone at the table and says, "All right, you said something about a job?"

[Silverking]

Lycus lays in his bed in a back room of the Jolly Pemtrils, which, save having his bedroll over it, is more a pile of hay than a bed. Hands behind his head, and eyes half shut to the glaring sun shining in through the window, he thinks about the occurrences of that morning as his head clears. *Those were some strange people.* He thought. *Then again, maybe I was just seeing things. I could have just imagined them. I mean really, the dragon man, and the kid at least, theres no way they could be real... * He frowns. *But that one guy in the cloak... I don't think I could have imagined him. He seems too... off. Besides, worst come to worst, I don't get paid. Might as well give it a shot.* He looks up again. Seeing that an hour has passed, he packs his stuff, and walks down the hall to the bar.

Lycus enters the bar, looking for an empty table, and absentmindedly tossing the bartender a coin before he can approach to ask. Finding one empty table, save a disgusting drunk and one of the people from this morning approaching, he sits down on the other side of the table. Leaning in to talk to the drunk, he mumbles, "Hey, Drunky. A spot just opened up at the bar, why don't you check it out?"

Bluff check: [roll0]+1=13

[Jarian]

Pockets empty and fortunes obviously even more dire than that of his companions, Janik resigns himself to waiting outside, shooting occasional glares at the tavern's bouncer. It would be a simple matter to force his way inside, but that wouldn't accomplish anything except having the city guards called on him. Muttering something about poor choices of establishments, Janik settles down for another tedious wait in search of a job, rather like a good many days before this.

Janik is poor as a sand farmer in the Sahara. Hopefully that changes soon. :smalltongue:

[GFawkes]

Wendin and Eliani'i wait just outside the door alongside Janik. "So why can't you afford to go in? Have you also been travelling with only a grand total of 10 gp?"

[Jarian]

"My previous employer terminated our agreement rather suddenly," Janik explains, grimacing. "Without paying for that month's service, of course. A small stash of coin doesn't go far in this city, especially not with the recent price of food and drink. With any luck that will be changing soon - I think I left an impression on our would-be employer, at the very least."

[Othesemo]

Lycus, Thomas, Talehos-

The drunk turns his head toward the bar and stares for a few seconds, opening and closing his left eye. After a moment, he seems to decide that it'd be easier to see if he were next to the stool, and staggers off toward the bar, occasionally tripping over his feet. The table now vacated, you have little to do but wait for your employer to arrive.

Janik, Wendin/Eliani'i

Some minutes pass before 'Dmytro' comes into view. He wears his same cloak, and carries a sack and a scroll case beneath his left arm. A brief look of confusion comes over his face as he sees you outside, followed by a knowing smile. As he approaches, he calls out to you. "No gold? It is a curious metal, I find. Solid, and yet it slips so easily through your fingers. No matter." From the sack under his arm, he pulls three pieces of gold, which he hands to the bouncer. "We can't talk standing about outside. Let's go- I am hoping to see this taken care of most quickly."

[planswalker]

Talehos sits and waits...

[Ajadea]

As soon as the table is vacated, Thomas promptly parks himself on the rim. Sometime in the commotion, he has obtained a very large mug of the watered-down ale. Occasionally, he lifts it up with both hands and chugs some. For such a small young man, he seems to be able to hold a large amount of liquid. When he notices the others, he waves. "Hey, over here! Mister Lycus found us a table!" he calls out cheerfully.

If you spent long enough watching, you might notice that Thomas slowly and deliberately lifts the mug of ale up to head height and pours out a small portion out onto the table below. It splatters over his pants and drips onto the ground, but he doesn't seem to mind.

[Silverking]

Lycus will do the same. If possible, he'll order a beer.

Edit: Did not see Tom in time. I meant the same as the pally.

[Othesemo]

Dmytro nods toward the halfling and walks toward the table. He seats himself in the chair at the end of the table and pauses for a moment, placing a small burlap sack and a scroll case before him. Wasting no time, he speaks to the table in a an undertone barely audible above the din of the tavern.

"Perhaps I should be explaining more fully what it is I wish for you to be doing. A friend of mine- Vasyl- is a merchant, of sorts. Today, he is to join me in this city for the next week. Most importantly, however, he is coming with what everyone needs and no one but the nobles-" he spits on the floor "- seems to have. Food. I expect him to be arriving at the city gates at sunset. However, the law of supply and demand works against us here- as he brings us supplies, I fear that refugees and other bandits along the road shall demand them of him. And this, you understand, I cannot be having." He opens the scroll case and pulls from it a crude map of the city and the lands about it. "He will be coming in from the west road, here," he says, indicating a crossroads some six miles from the city. "He has no guard- only himself and a driver for his cart. I want you to meet him at this crossroads and escort him safely to the city."

"Should he arrive soundly, his goods untouched, I shall pay to each of you one hundred pieces of gold- money enough to eat like the duke for a month. Should he merely arrive soundly, I shall give you a third of that number." At this, he pulls the drawstring of the bag, allowing the gold within to shine through. "Now, whatever questions you are having, I shall answer."

[Jarian]

"Bandits are one thing, but this... by the way you talk, it sounds like you're asking us to beat back hordes of starving refugees. Bandits I will deal with; stealing by force of arm is a loathsome act, and I'll not stand for it. But if you expect me to raise arm and strike down a refugee whose only crime is maddening hunger, then you will be very disappointed." Janik's voice begins with an uncertain tone, but lowers to a deep growl toward the end, his slitted red eyes fixed on Dmytro's own.

[Othesemo]

Dmytro frowns slightly. "I do not need you to strike them down- only to push them back." He thinks for a second. "In fact, if you could avoid doing even that, it would be best. If you can, do no more than snarl or speak harsh words. I would not wish to worsen their already dire situation."

[GFawkes]

"So it's safety in numbers then. If the six of us surround the cart, then we should be able to scare off anyone who approaches."

[planswalker]

"The food needs to make it safely to the city. It is our moral obligation to help. The gold helps too."

[Ajadea]

Thomas nods. "Pushing, right. No mess, no blood. And that goes for all of us, you hear?" The last sentence is directed, it seems, at the spilled ale. "Don't worry, Mister D, we'll bring your friend back safe and sound. And the stuff he's bringing too!"

[Othesemo]

Dmytro nods. "As you say. There is no need to fight when you can make the other flee." He begins to stand before stopping and raising a finger. "Oh, I should be mentioning. The food is stowed in crates- try to keep it sealed away. We would not want to see it spoiled, or falling off the sides of the cart." At this, he stands fully, pushing the map back into its case and picking up the gold. "If you've no more questions, I shall meet you at the west gate at sunset." He bows his head toward you. "Good luck."

Wendin, Eliani'i, Talehos
As Dmytro rises, you notice two large, bald men, looking more scar than skin, rise from the bar in unison and walk swiftly to the door. At their sides swing two identical shortswords.

[planswalker]

Talehos gets up, points out the two fellows, and walks over to them, attaching his shield as he goes.

[Othesemo]

The two leave the door open behind them. As Talehos steps out of the bar, he casts his eyes about, but can't seem to pick the two men out of the crowd outside.

[planswalker]

... I lost two large, distinctively scarred men who should stand out in a crowd?

how???

Not one to give up, Talehos continues to search for the two.

[Othesemo]

Talehos-
As you continue to search in the immediate area, you are struck by the implausibility of the situation. Although you search every face before you, you can't pick out the two men you seek. However, a sudden thought occurs to you. You walk a ways- perhaps ten feet- down the street and look down a small alley. A sidelong glance reveals that the two men are sitting cross-legged, their backs to the street, apparently speaking in low tones. They seem to take no notice of you, nor of anything else.

[Silverking]

Lycus watches the mysterious man, and one of the small men walk away from the table. He frowns, and looks at the group around him. After he is sure they are out of earshot, he says, "Am I the only one who has a little trouble trusting this guy?"

[Jarian]

"I distrust everyone in this gods-forsaken city these days," Janik sighs, shaking his head. "But you are not alone, no. Still, unless your fortunes are vastly better than my own, I see little choice but to go forward with what we've been offered. If the deal turns sour, well..." A pair of spiked knuckles briefly phase into being around his hands, which he clutches into fists before allowing the knuckles to disappear in puffs of arcana-laced smoke. "...there are ways of dealing with traitorous employers."

[planswalker]

Talehos will approach the two and keep an eye on them.

[Othesemo]

Talehos-
As you creep up behind them, you see what it is they seem to be staring at. Before them lies a deck of cards, spread out upon the ground. They appear to be intently staring at the cards, quickly reaching out and shifting them about in some sort of game. While so doing, they mutter to each other in a language you don't recognize.

[Ajadea]

Thomas shrugs and spills another helping of watered-down ale onto the table. "Mister D seems nice enough," he says, for once appearing to talk to the actually visible and tangible people in the room. "But I don't think he's entirely human. And he doesn't want anyone to know, either, else he'd not be running around in a hood and a cloak. It's too hot for that." He states these observations with the sort of matter-of-factness that one would use to say that the famine was still continuing.

[planswalker]

Talehos will stay still for now, trying to listen to them. If they move, he'll try to follow them.

[roll0]

[Othesemo]

Talehos-
Some minutes pass, and the men seem to grow increasingly agitated. From time to time, they glance behind them, and though you try to duck out of the way, you're fairly certain that one of them noticed you. Another minute passes, and the two men say nothing. Finally, one of them speaks in common. In a voice like gravel, he mutters "Useless. He isn't coming."

The other nods, and together the scoop up their cards and place them in a leather holder. In unison, they stand, dusting off their pants, before striding from the alley. They turn down the street and walk abreast- as they pass, one of them turns toward you and glares angrily.

[Silverking]

"Well in that case, I should probably head out. It's always a good idea to be early to these sorts of things," Lycus says, adding under his breath, "or so I'm told." He stands, finishing his mug and begining to move towards the door. "By the way," He calls over his shoulder, "one of you should tell that kid who walked off earlier that we're all headed to the crossroads. Wouldn't want him to get lost." With that said, Lycus has left the building.

[planswalker]

His reconnaissance done, Talehos reports back to the group about what he has seen.

[Ajadea]

Thomas nods. "Uh huh. Two guys waiting for something. That's interesting, I guess. But if the third guy didn't come, then I guess they can't do the thing they want to do, so it's not a problem right now. Mister Lycus already left for the gates. I was waiting for you to come back." He takes two more hearty gulps of the ale and then knocks the mug down. The last few drops spill onto the floor. "You done?" Scarcely a moment goes by before he barrels on with the conversation. "Right then, let's go!" He dashes out, weaving around human legs and table legs, and out the door to catch up with Lycus. "That wasn't a bad place at all! I'll have to remember it. The Jolly Pemtrils. It's kind of a strange name though. Do you know what a Pemtril is? Sounds like a Tendril. Maybe the tavern owner couldn't spell?"

[planswalker]

Talehos follows along behind Thomas.

[Othesemo]

Over the next several minutes, each of you navigates through the city as best you can. After what seems an unnecessarily long sequence of pushing through crowds and absently mindedly apologizing to whomever you run into, you find yourself at the gates of the city.

The Aldalar wall is just more than a decade old. It stands near twenty feet tall, and the stone is far too smooth to climb. Standing atop the wall, near the gate are two guards armed with crossbows whose purpose is apparently to persuade refugees to stay outside the gates. Their bows are loaded, and the refugees seem very persuaded indeed. Many of them huddle within tents, hoping to avoid the sun's heat. Those few who stand outside seem to mull about without purpose, simply hoping for some stroke of luck to slake their thirst and give them a roof above their heads.

It is just shy of two hours after noon, and you are expected to meet 'Vasyl' some ten miles to the west of the city. Wishing to waste no time, you set out immediately- the taller among you walking swiftly, the halflings forced to keep a light jog.

Barely half an hour passes before you are stopped. From the side of the road walks forth a man- judging by his clothes, a refugee. He seems to have made an effort to maintain his short cropped beard, but for all his effort it is unevenly cut and filled with twigs and dust. He approaches you calmly, his eyes lowered to the ground. "Pardon me," he says, his voice sounding as if he hadn't drunk water in months, "but I have seen you leave the city. I caution you, you have not enough supplies to travel far from here. Silver is worth little when you are needing something to fill your stomach. May I ask where you are going with so little in your packs?"

[planswalker]

"Our business was told in confidence, and is none of yours. God will provide what we need. You need not concern yourself with us. But thank you for your offer."

[Othesemo]

The man stops, clearly taken aback. For a moment he stares at you before turning his back to you. He calls over his shoulder "Very well, sir. Take care on that road. There are many unpleasant surprises to be found by the unprepared." He steps onto the road and walks past you, toward the city. He coughs to himself, his entire frame shuddering in rhythm with his steps.

[Silverking]

Lycus silently looks over his shoulder to watch the man go, mulling his words over in his head. *What was with that guy?* He wonders to himself. *Was that supposed to be a warning, a threat, or something else entirely? What was his angle?*

Sense Motive
[roll0]

[Othesemo]

Lycus
You're left with a slightly sour taste in your mouth after watching him go. Although you're not entirely certain what his intention was, you're almost positive that his motivation wasn't altruism.

[Jarian]

Janik spares a glance to be sure the man truly is continuing on his way, then looks back to the road stretching before the group. "I would not have been so hasty with one offering warning, myself..." he mutters under his breath, before picking up the pace again. His foot catches on a bit of exposed rock before he has taken five paces, and - with an oath to curl ears - he barely manages to right himself before falling on his face.

Grimmacing, both in discomfort and distaste of the entire situation, he grumbles something about buying a horse before continuing on.

And this is why I never leave home level 2 without a mount. Walking is just undignified. Walking ten miles with Merry and Pippin in tow even moreso. :smalltongue:

Onwards, to the ambush glory!

[planswalker]

"Um... we were all but told to expect ambushes and deceptions on this quest. Odds are, he was setting us up for an ambush. The city is in the grip of a terrible famine and, by sheer coincidence, a fellow is outside the gates selling supplies to people traveling on the roads? Considering that bread is worth its weight in gold at the moment, no one with food to spare to sell to adventurers leaving the city would look that scruffy. Furthermore, IF he has food, it's better spent inside the city to help those who can't easily leave to get their own food. Call my suspicions paranoid if you will, but I saw the best possible scenario one where he gave us the runaround before his buddies in an alley tried to mug us, we defeat them, and gain some equipment off of them to aid us in our quest. Worst case, we end up leading his buddies straight to the object we are trying to reach. I'd be half-surprised if someone isn't trying to follow us and spy on us right now. If I was hunting the object we seek, that's what I'd be doing."

[Ajadea]

"Or," Thomas suggests, "He was trying to be nice, and keep us from starving to death out there. Not everyone's plotting something. Sometimes they're just actually trying to help. He doesn't know we're going down the road. Especially since you say we're on a quest, and call on the gods an' all that." He doesn't seem to have any trouble keeping up, despite the fact he's giving a small lecture. "A quest has dragons and princesses and evil things. Well, at least one of those. We're helping a guy keep his friend safe, and he's paying us. Is the idea of something being that simple really so crazy to you?"

[Silverking]

"Sorry kid, but I'm pretty sure they're right," Lycus says without turning. "That guy gives me a bad feeling, and where I come from, you learn to take heed of your instincts." He thinks for a moment, glancing up and down the road. "But then again, I don't see any signs of anyone following us."

Spot (just in case)
[roll0]

[planswalker]

"If you truly feel me in error, I don't mind waiting here while you chase him down and apologize."

[GFawkes]

"If we wait, we may miss our delivery man. If we are truly in danger, we should be more than capable of handling it."

"But he seemed really put off by the remark-"

"And we are carrying two handed swords. He'll know it's a bad idea to attack us."

[planswalker]

Talehos will continue on to the rendezvous. Not really knowing the other people hired on yet, he will trust them to come according to their own initiatives or not. Leadership would require there to be a sense of community within the group.

[Ajadea]

"I don't think he'd like us botherin' him now..." Thomas says. All the same, he hesitates for a moment before moving on.

[Othesemo]

Lycus-
A quick glance through the nearby area seems to confirm that you are alone.

After a moment of hesitation, each of you follows after the paladin. By your estimation, you've got another eight miles or so to cover, and within the next two or three hours.

The rest of your walk is somewhat uneventful. As mile after mile of parched, dusty road passes by, you find yourself regretting not bringing more water. Nearly a mile from your destination, you run out of it entirely. You sincerely hope that 'Vasyl' will be willing to share his own.

When you finally arrive at the crossroads, the sun hangs halfway above the mountains to the west. The heat is practically unbearable, and together you stand beneath a small tree off the side of the road, relishing the shade. Some minutes of silence pass as you recuperate before you catch sight of your caravan.

It seems a rickety old thing, barely able to hold the weight placed upon it. The back half of the cart is covered in white canvas, which is fastened to the sides with large metal pegs. You suppose this to be to keep the food as cool as possible. Pulling the cart is a single donkey, looking thoroughly exhausted. At the seat of the cart are two humans- a man and a woman. The woman holds the reins of the donkey, while the man (Vasyl, you presume), leans back against the cart, shading himself from the sun. At the moment, they're nearly two hundred feet away, and they steadily approach you as quickly as one very tired donkey can allow.

[planswalker]

I am completely bewildered about how not having water for a few hours is going to be a problem.

Even if we drink up our water in three hours (which unless we've only brought a mouthful makes no sense), it should take a day before any sort of serious issues develop, and last I checked, we're talking about a couple hours' walk to our destination. Even if it takes the cart twice as long to get back, we're still not talking enough time for this to matter.

Talehos will wait for them to approach the meeting point as directed. If some of the others wish to go ahead to greet them, he'd be fine with that. He feels that at least one person should stay here to keep an eye on things.

[Silverking]

Lycus continues walking with the group, watching the sun pass lower in the sky, as well as the occasional glance around for anything out of the ordinary. Eventually, he spots a caravan in the distance, and increases his pace to meet it. As he comes within shouting distance, he calls "Hey, are you Vasyl? We were sent out here to meet you!"

[Othesemo]

The man- Vasyl, you presume, nods toward the woman at his side, and she stops the cart. As he examines you, you take the opportunity to more fully examine him. His olive skin is turned darker by dust, and his small, brown eyes squint at you angrily. He is by no means thin- indeed, he looks as if he would have difficulty walking alongside the cart for any long period of time. A wide cloth hat shades his head from the sun, but his uncovered arms seem all but painted red. He wears clothes that are best described as peasant's finery- a light brown canvas shirt, as well as a hempen vest and pants. His boots are simple leather fashioned into a roughly foot shaped form- you suspect that actually walking in them would grow painful rather quickly.

When he speaks, a thick Slavic accent forces you to strain to understand him. "Oh," he asks, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "By whom were you sent?"

[Ajadea]

Thomas salutes the man - Vessel, if he remembered correctly. An odd name, but Mister D and his friend were both foreign, and foreigners had odd names. It was practically a rule. And this man had the same sort of voice sound as Mister D. But that wasn't the name Vessel was probably looking for. "Um, Mister Dee- um, Dim - Dimmytro?" The instant the words are out of his mouth, he knows he's still not quite got the right pronunciation, but never the less, he continues on. "He had a cloak and a hood and I don't think he's human but it's kinda hard to tell from down here."

[Othesemo]

He raises an eyebrow at the halfling's attempt to pronounce Dmytro's name, but doesn't comment. Instead, he smiles slightly to himself. "Dmytro, you say? Is he still wearing that damn cloak? Pah, he's too damn self conscious for his own good." He rolls his eyes dramatically. "And he sent you to get me past the gate, I assume?"

[planswalker]

Talehos keeps an eye out, suspecting an ambush while we're stuck out here in the open and haven't yet formalized the guard racket.

[Othesemo]

Talehos
Although the area is largely open, you take notice of several trees and bushes of varying size that someone could plausibly hide behind. However, the closest of examinations (that you can make from here) seem to confirm that you are alone.

[planswalker]

Confident that they're not likely to be ambushed right now, Talehos will continue to scan the bushes.

[Silverking]

Lycus narrows his eyes slightly at the man's non-answer. "Depends if you are in fact, the man we seek," He says cautiously. *Sickness eat it! I wish Dmytro had given us a way to identify the man. For all I know, this guy could be an enemy!*

[Othesemo]

The man chuckles to himself. "It is good to see one so young, so wise. Too often, I see you people just charging off into battle without second thought. But yes, I am Vasyl. Travelling merchant, trader, and good friend of Dmytro. And if I lie, may I-" he trails off for a moment. "-may I be firmly slapped across my knuckles." At this, he laughs so loudly as to shake the cart.

[GFawkes]

"Let's get moving soon. The longer we're out here, the greater the chance we're ambushed. And nobody wants that."

"But what if-"

"Nobody. Wants. That."

Eliani'i crosses her arms in front of her, pouting. She turns to Vasyl and attempts to make conversation. "So where are you travelling from? Did you like it there? Why do they have enough food to trade it away?"

[Othesemo]

Vasyl continues to laugh to himself for a few moments, before turning to Eliani'i. "To tell the truth, I can hardly remember myself. Would that I could spend as much time in towns as I do on the road, but it is not so." He pauses a moment to think, absent mindedly scratching his back. "I am a trader, yes, but I am not here to trade. I come to deliver my own goods this time. Not very profitable, I am fearing, but it's the least I could do for the poor fool."

[Jarian]

Janik clears his throat loudly, interrupting the conversation. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather walk and talk at the same time. I don't intend to be out in this cursed heat any longer than is needed. Vasyl, if you please, get your cart moving again. I for one was sent to guard you, not make idle conversation."

Hint.

[Othesemo]

Vasyl nods. "Fair enough." he turns to the woman and mutters something, and she pulls the donkey into a slow trot, gradually accelerating to the normal walking pace of a halfling. He says nothing for a minute or two until you reach the crossroads. At this point he turns to you, his face expressionless once more. "Now, whatever Dmytro told you, he'll be paying your service, not me. I am hoping that he made this clear to you when he hired you- I have no gold on my person." He continues to speak, not waiting for an answer. "Now, that there is no misunderstandings between us, what were you hired for? Specifically?"

[Ajadea]

Thomas nods along at the conversation, shifting from one foot to the other and pulling on a lock of his hair occasionally. When the cart gets moving, he follows along, easily keeping up with the cart. "He sent us to keep you and your things safe until we get to the city, sir," he tells Vasyl. "He was worried about robbers and bandits and such."

[planswalker]

"And don't forget the possibility of hunger-crazed people mobbing us to overstuff themselves before the food arrives." Talehos says as he approaches.

[Othesemo]

Vasyl nods sagely. "Indeed," he says, distaste evident on his face. "Well, hopefully we won't have to deal with that for some time more. If at all."

It seems that hope does have some power- the following hours are spent in relative peace and quiet. Although the sun steadily drops lower in the sky, the heat remains unabated. The six of you walk around the cart, occasionally exchanging small talk, as Vasyl reclines against the canvas behind him, shading his eyes. And though the lot of you keep a watchful eye out for any others along the road, you see no one.

It is nearly sunset, and by your guess you're near two miles from the city gates. The past minutes have been enveloped in a fog of silence- no words have been spoken, and the surrounding life seems to have descended into torpor. It is thus a great surprise when from ahead of you on the road issues a metallic clang and a bellow of both elephantine proportions and sacrilegious profanity. A moment later, more sounds of clashing metal are heard, and you make out the words "Stand down!" being shouted. That you can tell in a few shattered moments, the sound issues from the opposite side of a small hill some fifty feet in front of you.

[planswalker]

Talehos will step in front of the cart and motion for it to stop. "Someone with longer legs want to pop down there and see what's going on?"

[Silverking]

Lycus nods. "On it." He runs ahead of the cart over to the hill, quieting his footsteps as he gets close. Near the top of the hill, he crouches and peaks over the top, drawing his blade in case of trouble.


Rolls:

Not sure how many are needed, but:

Spot: [roll0]
Listen: [roll1]
Move Silently: [roll2]
Hide: [roll3]

That should cover everything, unless I need a balance to crouch or something.

[Othesemo]

Lycus-
Perhaps thirty feet in front of you, two men armed with halberds seem to be intent on knocking third one unconscious. The unfortunate third man wears a brigandine coat and holds a longsword, with which he is frantically parrying the blows raining down upon him. Already, he seems to have suffered a painful gash across his chest (no doubt the source of the bellow you heard earlier), and you doubt that he'll be able to keep fighting for more than another twenty seconds. Once more, the larger of the two men with halberds (both of whom wear dark green tabards) growls "Stand down, damnit!" to which the cornered man gasps "never!"

[Silverking]

After waving the others closer, and after a split second of hesitation, Lycus jumps up and over the top of the hill, sprinting toward the men and shouting "Hey! What's going on here?"

[Othesemo]

Lycus (and anyone else who moves to the top of the hill)
As you near the fight, the man being attacked turns to stare at you. The split second of lost focus costs him dearly, however, as the shorter of his attackers swings forth at his legs, cutting through his skin knocking him to the ground. As he issues another grunt of pain, the larger of the two men maneuvers his halberd over the grounded man's throat. Safely assured that their quarry is immobilized, they turn to you, suspicion in their eyes. "The bastard's resisting arrest," the shorter of them says to you, his voice clearly identifying him as one who has lived his life in Aldalar. "What's it to you?"

As he speaks, the man on the ground takes advantage of their momentary distraction and begins edging away from them, his hand still on his blade.

[planswalker]

Talehos will join his ally at the top of the hill.

[Jarian]

Janik moves part of the way up the hill, in case anything unfortunate should happen as a result of the shouting, but he keeps his eyes on the goods to be transported. If need be, he could be in either place in the blink of an eye. While he waits for any further trouble, he spreads a hand to either side, palms outward, and a shimmering, transparent violet portal forms inches away from either hand.

Form Hex Portals. Janik moves to about ten feet from the crest of the hill, but keeps the carts in sight. I figure it's best if someone keeps an eye on the goods, just in case.

[Ajadea]

Thomas remains behind, positioning himself on the far side of the cart, close to Vasyl. Someone should watch all sides. "Ready, Matt?" he asks. He pauses as if waiting for an answer, then responds "Okay, keep your eyes out," though no answer came.

[GFawkes]

Wendin and Eliani'i stay by the cart. "We'll stay here. If you need help, just holler," Eliani'i calls to those on the hill.

[Silverking]

Lycus thinks for a moment, than says, "I suppose it's nothing to me, I am just a concerned passerby. What did this guy do wrong, anyway?"

[Othesemo]

People on the crest of the hill-
The man on the ground turns to look at you pleadingly, and with a shock you recognize him- the refugee who stopped you on the road some hours ago. Ignorant of their captive's recognition, the larger of the two guards speaks up. "Stealing. We've been getting reports of folks losing their goods all along this road, and here we find this foreign scum just wanderin' down it, refusing to tell us what he's doin' there. Now he won't tell us where he hid the loot, fool that he is."

As he speaks, the man on the ground slowly edges backwards, staring at you, mouthing the words 'help me.' As the larger of the guards stops talking, he yells out "Because I did nothing, damn it!" At this, he attempts to leap to his feat. The guard pinning him to the ground takes notice, however, and with an air of nonchalance, slams the end of his halberd into the man's chest. Although his armor takes the brunt of the blow, the man is winded, and falls back to the ground, his sword slipping from his grasp. The smaller guard laughs loudly. "You see?" he asks. "His words lie, but his actions speak the truth."

People by the cart-
The sound of indistinguishable conversation issues from across the hill. After nearly ten seconds of words pass, you hear a male voice, hoarse from dehydration, yell out "Because I did nothing, damn it!" This is followed by a muffled clanging sound and a barely audible 'thump.' After this, a peal of laughter- a cruel, harsh sound- cuts through the evening air.

Vasyl turns to you, an anxious look upon his face. "What is happening?" he asks nervously. "Are we being attacked?"

[planswalker]

"Somehow, I highly doubt you are using proper procedure in apprehending and questioning those you think are suspicious of being a thief. Have you found anything on him which is stolen? Does he show any evidence of being a bandit beyond simply being a foreigner? If not, then perhaps I am a bandit as well. After all, you do not get more foreign than I."

[Othesemo]

Crest of the hill-
The shorter of the guards snarls. "You don't joke about thieving with the guard, runt. Who else could it be? The invisible treasure pixies?" He spits on the ground. "When you've only got one suspect, you don't need proof. Just a strong arm."

[Jarian]

Grimacing, Janik strides the rest of the way to the top of the hill, trailed by the two floating violet portals. He makes a placating gesture to Vasyl, then turns to see exactly what is happening to cause such a ruckus.

[planswalker]

Crest of the hill-
The shorter of the guards snarls. "You don't joke about thieving with the guard, runt. Who else could it be? The invisible treasure pixies?" He spits on the ground. "When you've only got one suspect, you don't need proof. Just a strong arm."

"Wrong. Finding a single suspect and declaring him guilty is NOT a guardian's job. Thinking so means you are truly as stupid as you are incompetent. Still, if you think your proof is in your might of arms, then perhaps you are not too cowardly to face a small one such as me in a contest of arms. I too am as guilty of being a bandit as this man here, for all the evidence you have."

It should be noted that Talehos has no weapons on him, only a small spiked shield.

[Othesemo]

Crest of the hill-
This time, both guards laugh. "You?" asks the larger guard incredulously. "You would fight us? A fairer fight would be between me and a sparrow!"

The smaller guard seems more intrigued than anything. "So, all we need do is drop you, then we carry on doing the law? Sounds easy enough."

The larger guard smiles. "Anton? I think this one just admitted to banditry. We wouldn't be doin' our duty if we just let him go, now would we?" He steps forward, grinning, his hands wrapped about his halberd. The shorter guard leans down and grabs the refugee, pulling him back a ways.

Talehos (or anyone else who wants to join the fight) should roll initiative now. The guard is intent on a duel, it seems, but some are less constrained by honor than others.

[planswalker]

[roll0]

If Talehos goes first, he will ready an action to strike with his shield as soon as his opponent has attacked him.

[roll1] [roll2] (damage is d4+1 calculating that I reroll 1's).

If Talehos goes second, he will likely attack his opponent as above, unless such an attack would be impossible or counterproductive.

[Othesemo]

Crest of the Hill-
Without warning, Talehos's opponent lunges at him, his Halberd aimed at the paladin's chest. Despite its ferocity, however, the strike flies wide, cutting through the air in the space a normal human's lung would be. As the guard staggers forward, the unexpected momentum carrying him, Talehos swings to the side, slamming his shield into the man's thigh. The single spike tears through skin and muscle, and his opponent roars in pain.

In an attempt at recovery, the man dances about the halfling, limping heavily with his injured leg. Taking advantage of Talehos' shield being displaced, he swings downward with the blade of his weapon, hoping to cut into the paladin's right arm. However, his opponent's preoccupation notwithstanding, the halberd swings to the halfling's side, embedding itself in the soft earth.

[planswalker]

um... i have improved shield bash. I don't lose my shield to ac when attacking with it.

The apparent opening nothing more than illusion, Talehos strikes again.

[roll0] [roll1]

If the above hits, he ends his turn by saying "If you would like to surrender the duel and confess that you are in the wrong on this matter, I would prefer to injure you no more than necessary."

[Othesemo]

Ah, sorry. I forgot about that. Still, it doesn't affect the outcome.

Crest of the Hill-
As the guard pulls his weapon from the ground, Talehos swings his arm into his side once more. The spike buries into his flesh, and once more he vocalizes his pain- this time, in more of a whimper than a roar. He stands still, clutching his bleeding side and panting. For a moment he looks into your eyes, and there is nothing to be heard. After what seems several minutes, he staggers backward, dropping his halberd. "Fine," he gasps, "take the bastard." He waves toward the other guard, who reluctantly releases the refugee. The larger guard glares at Talehos. "You... I will remember you." At this pronouncement, he falls to the ground, breathing heavily and utterly defeated.

[planswalker]

"Today you were bested by a man a third your size, one who lifted no blade against you. You were brought low by your hubris and cruelty. If you wish to be a guardian of the road, gods bless you. But guard them well and justly. A guardian is no judge, and he is no executioner. Never again dare to take upon yourself a role in justice that has not been given to you. If you respect the might of arms, then respect my words, for I have shown the power of my faith. Begone from here, and seek evidence of wrongdoing that you may find true culprits. If I ever hear of you abusing your position again, the wrath of the dragon god shall descend upon you and I shall personally drag you before the Judge."

[Silverking]

Lycus chuckles quietly to himself at the small person's lecture. *So bold, yet so hypocritical...* He thinks as he takes the few steps over to a comfortable talking distance. "Nice job," he says. "You took that guy down without breaking a sweat! Let alone a blood vessel. I don't think those guys will be bothering anyone for a while."

[planswalker]

I may think the fellow a swindler and not trust him, but that does not justify the brutality and injustice those guards were inflicting upon him. Talehos thinks to himself.

"Often, the Platinum Lord will strengthen the arm of the one who is in the right in a trial of arms."

[Othesemo]

As the commotion ceases, the driver once more spurs the donkey into action. As Vasyl- and the hired help- reaches the crest of the hill, the two guards walk past the cart. The larger one limps, each step upon his injured leg clearly causing him pain. Despite this, he bats away his fellow's hand as he tries to help support him. The shorter guard, for his part, looks both disappointed and dejected. Within a few moments, they've disappeared in the opposite direction.

The refugee dusts himself off, wincing as his hand brushes across the cut in his chest. When last you saw him, he was scruffy. Now, he is absolutely disheveled. Blood slowly leaks across his shirt, and dust still covers much of his body. His hair presses itself to his forehead, slick with sweat, and the halberd blow to his leg seems to leave him near tears. As he balances carefully on his good leg, he turns to you. "Little one," he says, breathing heavily, "you have risked much to help me. I will not forget this kindness, I assure you." He attempts to step toward you, before falling forward with near comical unexpectedness. He sits back, holding the gash in his leg, softly cursing, and a single tear runs down his now contorted face. "I would dare to ask one more favor of you," he says, his voice wavering. "Have you any bandages that I may use? I cannot walk like this, and I would make nothing but food the wolves out here."

[planswalker]

"Of course." Talehos will take some spare coth and use it to bandage the poor fellow as best he can.

taking 10 on heal for a total of 16.

[Othesemo]

Working swiftly, Talehos cleans and tourniquets the wound. Having had occasion to develop the talent in his past, he finishes within several minutes. Although the cut clearly causes the refugee pain, he is able to walk now, albeit with a limp. "Thank you, deeply," he says, having somewhat regained his breath. "I have not introduced myself to you. I am called Nikos."

[planswalker]

"Talehos Scalesheen" He says, still not particularly trusting the swindler.

[Othesemo]

A strange look briefly flits through Nikos's eyes. After a moment, he shakes himself. "Of course," he says, "a fitting name." Now he turns, and glances about the others. You notice that his eyes seem to linger on Vasyl, an expression of distaste forming upon his lips. "I do not know your friends," he says, choosing his words carefully, and not turning his head from Vasyl. "Who are they?"

Vasyl, for his part, seems to be deliberately avoiding eye contact with Nikos. He casts his gaze about wildly, searching for something- anything- to convincingly occupy his attention.

[planswalker]

Talehos will resume guarding the cart, allowing his companions to make their own introductions.

[Silverking]

"Lycus Hood," He says simply and slightly distracted, arriving back at the cart after staying at the hill for a moment to get a look around.

[Ajadea]

"I'm Thomas, Thomas Brightrook," he says, apparently oblivious to the tension between Nikos and Vasyl. "And this is Matt." Matt, naturally, is nowhere to be seen. "We should keep going. It's no good, being on the road after dark, not when you have a choice anyways."

[GFawkes]

"I'm Eliani'i Dialleria, and this is my friend Wendin Preson." Eliani'i shakes Nikos's hand vigorously, while Wendin just gives a quick nod.

"The halfling is right; we should move on. We can't see at night as well as the day, so we're more vulnerable."

[Jarian]

"Janik." Janik grunts, not bothering to give a full name. "I'm not sure exactly what trouble you've gotten yourself into, but you're fortunate the little wyrmling was here to defend you. I'm not sure many from Aldalar would have bothered. You might owe him more than simple gratitude. Just a thought." With that, he continues trudging along after the cart.

[Othesemo]

Nikos nods in agreement. "It is never wise to go where you cannot see. There's another hour of road until you'll reach the city." He pauses for a moment. "I was hoping to gather some food before the sky darkened, but with this," he motions to his leg, "I fear that it would be unwise for me to linger about. If my company does not offend you, I would ask to travel at your side until we reach the city. Nowhere would I feel safer. Besides," he says, glancing at Janik, "I would not leave my savior with nothing but my goodwill."

[planswalker]

"Let us just be on with this quest." Talehos says.

[Othesemo]

Nikos hesitates for a moment, a look of confusion on his face. When no more information is forthcoming, he cautiously falls into step with the wagon, likely hoping that he didn't misunderstand the halfling. Although His wounded leg seems to give him trouble, Talehos' efforts have made it much more bearable. The wagon moves slowly enough for him to keep pace, even with a limp.

Nikos' estimation proves correct- just shy of an hour passes, and, as you pass over another hill in the road, you're able to easily make out the city wall. The area is well lit by numerous lanterns and candles lying about the tents outside the city. As you reach the edge of the refugees, Nikos stops. Turning to Talehos, he speaks. "I again thank you for your help, sir. I've nothing with me to share, but give me some time and I can ask about. I am owed many favors. I hope that, together, they shall amount to a suitable reward for the kindness you've shown me." He begins walking away, into the camps, before turning. "Ah, I should be asking. Where can I find you once I've a reward?"

[planswalker]

Talehos will allow another to answer, lost in his own thoughts about this con artist he saved from the law of the land, and yet he knew he did the right thing.

[planswalker]

Talehos will allow another to answer, lost in his own thoughts about this con artist he saved from the law of the land, and yet he knew he did the right thing.

[Ajadea]

"At the Jolly Pemtrils, 'round noontime," Thomas replies. "Bye Mr. Nikos!" He turns around to look at the space next to him. "What? It's not like he's gonna take it," he says, in a slightly whiny tone. "'Sides, he's the one who offered."

[Silverking]

Lycus closes his mouth and gazes down at the small person with an eyebrow raised. He had been about to say something himself, if just to break the silence, and was surprised when someone else had beat him too it. After a moment, he shrugs and, a little tired after the long day's walk, and looking forward to a nice warm hay pile, turns back toward the city wall and continues on.

[Jarian]

"If we don't want to fend off an entire horde of starving people, it might be best to continue on - quickly," Janik notes, looking around at the gaunt faces of the refugees. He had meant what he said earlier about not attacking innocents, and the longer they stayed in this area, the more appealing a target they would seem.

[Othesemo]

As the cart continues toward the city, refugees on either side of the cart poke their heads from tents to stare. Those already standing outside turn to each other, whispering.

"What is it?"
"Food?"
"The red one said something about starving..."
"It's too heavily guarded to be food... could be taxes."
"Taxes are as good as food. Money lets you into the city."
"Maybe they'd share?"
"Idiot."

As you move past, conversation continues, with increasing tenseness. A few of the refugees stand and prowl a few dozen feet behind you. For some hundred yards or so, you continue uninterrupted. Without warning, however you hear a hoarse yell. Turning to its source, you see three boys- likely no older than eighteen- charging at you, sunken eyes fixated upon the cart.

OOG-
The cart takes up about a 10x15 space, including the donkey. Each of you is positioned around the perimeter of the cart as follows-

Talehos..........Janik
Lycus.............Wendin
Thomas...........Eliani'i

Since you were deliberately keeping an eye out, the boys get no surprise round. They're each about 30 feet from the side of the cart, two on the left, and one on the right. Initiative order is in the OOC thread- first up is Lycus.

[planswalker]

"Boys, if I were you, I'd back off. We've been hired to kill anyone who steals from this shipment. Now, if you cooperate with me, you have my word of honor as a Knight of the Platinum Dragon that I will ensure you are fed. We do not want to kill you, but if you try to steal from us, we will have no choice. If I have to, I will personally buy each of you a meal if you will desist and help us reach the city safely."

charisma check. If it's supposed to be a specific skill check, lemme know which one and I'll edit to indicate the proper modifier.

[roll0] modifier should be +7 for diplomacy, as discussed. Thus, my total is 23.

[Othesemo]

At the word 'kill,' the boys hesitate markedly, slowing their pace and glancing at one another. They come to a full stop before the cart, as one of them hesitantly speaks. "Please, we are starving. Just give us some food, for the god's sake! You cannot need all of that," he says, gesturing toward the cart.

The other refugees recoil somewhat at the threat as well, and a few of the refugees who had been following the cart back off of the road, into the camp.

[planswalker]

"The food is not for just us, it is for everyone, to aid all in these hard times. If you help me get the cart to its destination, I guarantee you a hot meal tonight."


[roll0]

[Ajadea]

Thomas makes a loose fist, almost like he's grabbing a nonexistent person next to him. "Matt, no hitting! The - this stuff, it's not ours to give. None of it is. Like he said, we're hired to help, that's it," he says apologetically. "I'm sorry.. I wish I could help."

[Othesemo]

The boy who spoke previously looks at the others. The other two look at him, for guidance it would seem. After a moment he turns back, and says "Very well. Whatever you need, we can help."

Vasyl seems about to speak in protest, but glances at the children and seems to think better of it. Whether from compassion or a desire to reach the gates as soon as possible, you cannot say. He instead contents himself with quipping "Fine, fine. But do not touch the crates. Sir halfling will be happy to provide you a meal later, I am sure." As he says this, he glances at Talehos with mild annoyance.

As the cart keeps moving, the refugees maintain their distance, as the three boys fall into quiet step behind the cart. The cart continues uninterrupted to the city gate, albeit with the eerie sensation of having some hundreds of eyes silently following you. As the cart slows to a halt, a guard positioned next to the now closed portcullis steps forward. He and Vasyl exchange a few terse words in regards to 'papers,' after which Vasyl rummages around in a small compartment behind him, finally pulling out several faded pages, which he hands to the guard. The guard examines them briefly, then says, as politely as one can, "Stay here." He then walks off to the side and enters a small wooden door in the wall, disappearing from view.

A few moments of silence pass. Finally, impatient and irritated, Vasyl leans toward Talehos. Speaking in a carrying whisper, and apparently unperturbed by the fact that near everyone can hear it clearly, he asks "Did you have to bring them-" he nods toward the boys- "along? I don't need more guards. And I don't need anyone else snooping about when I deliver the food to Dmytro."

[planswalker]

"I was under the impression that this was honest work. I don't see why more eyes watching for trouble would be a problem for an honest man. Besides, they are not guards and I will be paying for their meal personally. They're three free sets of extra eyes to help us spot trouble. What, exactly is the issue? Would you rather them have tried to steal from us and we have to beat them into submission?"

[Othesemo]

Vasyl frowns. "They were all but cowering before you. You could have let them go at that, and we would have no less trouble. Meanwhile, I'll have to deal with every refugee out here learning of the generous halfling, and the wagon he was protecting." He sighs to himself. "I am an honest man. That does not mean I want every damn man and woman in the city speaking of me."

The boys behind the wagon shift uncomfortably at Vasyl's words, though the promise of food seems to keep them quiet.

[planswalker]

"I promise, I won't be "recruiting" anyone else on this job. If you would prefer, I will quit this duty and feed those three myself right now. I understand if my honor is too inconvenient for you. I certainly was not trying to make your job more difficult."

[Othesemo]

Vasyl pauses for a moment, his mouth slightly open. It seems fairly clear that this was not the answer he expected. In responding, he seems torn between calm explanation and blatant hostility- he eventually settles for an improbable combination of the two. He speaks quickly, forcing eye contact. "Your honor is not what inconveniences me. To forsake a task that you agreed to? Merely because your employer dares to criticize your actions? That is not honor. It is nothing but egoism. And yes, it inconveniences me."

He pauses for a moment, regaining his breath. "Honor is not sacrificing duty for your own sake. Honor is sacrificing yourself for the sake of duty. You imagine I am doing this willingly? Bah. Were I left to myself, I would be in a fireside chair with my wife. But I owe much to Dmytro, and when he tells me he is in need of my services, I do not refuse him. And so, I have traveled dozens of miles for his sake."

"If you walk away, simply ignoring your agreement with Dmytro? Fine. But do it frankly, not under the guise of your 'honor.'"

[Ajadea]

Thomas regards the brewing argument with unease, one fist clenched tightly enough to make his knuckles white against tanned skin. His hand is not closed all the way. "Mister Vasyl? Maybe we should keep going. So you can get back home faster. Things go a lot faster when nobody's arguing. Good day on the caravan, we've gone farther than a man walking. Bad day, might go half that." He bites his lip, but despite the nerves he's clearly suffering from, he doesn't break his gaze. "We're not too far now, and since we're all leaving when we get to your friend anyways, seems like maybe we could try to keep going. Have a good day. You know?"

[planswalker]

Talehos will stay silent for now, realizing that he's getting upset over this and words spoken in anger are oft regretted. Besides which, once this coward reaches his destination, he'll be done with him.

[Silverking]

At some point in the arguing, Lycus has set himself on auto pilot, tuning out the talking around him, and contemplating the shape, structure, and stories behind the city around him. Despite this, his senses remain alert.

[Othesemo]

Vasyl holds his silence as well, clearly smoldering. When the guard finally descends from the wall, returning his papers, Vasyl takes them wordlessly. Within seconds, the gate begins to slowly open, revealing the city. The area near the gate is largely populated by open air stalls, normally used to sell to visitors; now, they stand empty and dejected. The boys follow cautiously. When Vasyl merely glares and says nothing, they continue behind the cart.

For some minutes, you walk in palpable silence. The cart moves slowly through the streets. Soon, it turns down a fork, only to reveal that the road ahead has been upturned and a gaping hole, open to the sewers, blocks the path. Ever eloquent, Vasyl breaks the silence with several choice profanities, before turning to the driver and directing her to maneuver around. Once more, silence falls.

After near half a minute, he sighs to himself. Turning to Talehos, he begins to speak, catches himself, and then starts again. "We . . . we all owe allegiance to something. And there can be no . . . no greater disgrace than to fail in our duty. I owe mine to the law . . . and to Dmytro. And if you owe yours to your sense of good, I cannot find fault with you. So . . . well, I apologize. It is not my place to say that you cannot do as your honor requires you. Whatever I feel of the course you chose, I must respect it." He holds out his hand to the paladin, sincerity plain on his face.

Why yes, I have been reading Dostoyevsky lately. Why do you ask?

[planswalker]

"It is I who should apologize to you. I reduced myself to the level of using honor as a bludgeon, which is a gross misuse of the very concept. Ultimately, this wasn't about honor, or duty, or expediency. I just could not bring myself to strike at people whose only true crime was hunger. I allowed my passion to overtake reason. Such intentions are one of the easiest ways to bring about damnation. I have given my word to these youths to feed them. But I also gave my word to protect this shipment. It was trite of me to play one against the other."

Talehos accepts the hand and gives it a firm, small shake.

[Othesemo]

It is clear that Vasyl is much consoled by the halfling's words. The silence now abated, the following few minutes are largely spent with polite conversation. Although Vasyl remains conservative in revealing any personal information, he is nonetheless rather more expository in his conversation than he seems to imagine. That you gather, he's more or less responsible for a small village perhaps fifty miles upstream, which started around a trading company he founded. Although he has since retired and left business to others, he is still the mayor of the town, and largely responsible for its well being. Apparently, he hadn't seen Dmytro for nearly two years, before he received a messenger asking for immediate aid. He manages to avoid actually detailing why he owes Dmytro, though you assume that he must have a good reason to bother making the journey on his own.

As you reach the edge of the market district, Vasyl relaxes greatly. He motions forth with his hand, saying "The warehouse should only be short distance beyond here. Soon, we may all retire peacefully." He smiles to himself, and reclines further, clearly imagining with relish the opportunity to sleep in a real bed. As a breeze issues through the road, one of the street lamps nearby is extinguished, and the faint cry of a loon can be heard.

A moment passes before Vasyl jolts upright in his seat. He turns his head, listening intently, and whispers hoarsely "Did you hear that as well?"

[planswalker]

"Um... no."

[Othesemo]

"The loon . . . Dmytro and I used to use it. There couldn't be a real one close enough for us to hear." He casts his head about, searching for something. He frowns briefly. "Perhaps . . . it is likely just coincidence. Their calls carry far... perhaps there is one in a pond somewhere near." He pauses, still suspicious of his surroundings. Although he finds nothing, he nonetheless whispers "Be wary. If the call came from Dmytro, we have cause to be worried."

[planswalker]

"It is NEVER just some echo or other weird phenomenon. That is some deliberate message. Trust me, it's much safer to assume it's a dire message. You're trying to rationalize a likely warning of something serious with an incredibly unlikey and far-fetched theory."

[Othesemo]

Vasyl nods. "Wise words. Even if it is a loon, we have nothing to loose from taking care"

For a moment, he pauses, thinking hard. Finally, he speaks once more. "We had very specific signals. The shrike meant to stay where you were. The buzzard meant to flee. The loon . . . meant to keep going, but beware. Is is not immediate threat, but there may be one soon." He thinks for a moment more, and then speaks. "We must take care. One, maybe two of you, should run ahead. If Dmytro has had the foresight to bring some friends to protect us, they should know that you are with me. If he as surprised as I... well, we have nothing more to fear. But if we need hide the cart and ourselves, I would know before we turn round a corner into a barricade.

[Silverking]

Hearing the word "threat", Lycus turns his head to listen to the conversation. When it finishes, he turns. "Run ahead? I should be able to handle that," he says, glad that he finally has something to do. "Anything i should be on the look out for?"


OOC:

In case the game skips on without me, as it seems so apt to do every time i leave, i'll go ahead and make some rolls now.

Hide: [roll0]
Listen: [roll1]
Move silently: [roll2]
Spot: [roll3]
oh, and just in case
Craft (Arrowmaking) [roll4]

[planswalker]

"Probably best if I don't try to scout ahead. My legs just simply aren't as long as y'all's. Besides, I have a few temporary wards that are probably left under my supervision."

Turning to them, he says, "It's not that I don't trust you guys, but I have taken responsibility for you, and thus it would be inappropriate for me to leave you."

[Othesemo]

Vasyl pauses for a moment, thinking. "Anything that might slow us down, or be changed to slow us down. And anyone who might have cause to do us harm." He shrugs. "Use common sense." As the ranger runs forward, Vasyl continues casting about suspiciously.

Lycus
A left, a right, a dead end. It is clear that Aldalar was not planned- the street map is a chaotic jumble of buildings sprung up from the ground over decades, each one of more improbable size than the last in a desperate attempt to economize on room. Fortunately, the wilderness has honed your natural compass, and while you are far from at home, neither are you lost.

Is is perhaps three minutes before you arrive at the street of your destination. A number of unmarked warehouses line the sides of the road, likely used to house excess goods from the market some five hundred feet away. However, your focus is swiftly drawn to a single point- perhaps fifty feet in front of you lies a body, inert upon the ground, a thick black cloak drawn over it.

Non-Lycuses
The cart moseys onward along your path, and Vasyl takes pains to glance down every alley you pass. At one point, he reaches over and points to a roof top, insisting that he saw a flurry of motion, but none of you see anything.

Perhaps three minutes pass in more or less silence. Although Vasyl appears somewhat calmed by your luck thus far, he remains fairly high strung. As such, he all but jumps from his seat at the first sound- a muffled yell issuing from somewhere behind you.

Wendin
Immediately following the yell, you make out a faint exhalation, followed by a 'thump.'

[planswalker]

Talehos will maneuver to the rear of the cart. "Keep moving forward. IF something comes from behind, I will keep it occupied while you make a break for it."

[Ajadea]

Thomas twists around, looking backwards. "Be careful!" he says, in a voice just barely too loud to be called a whisper.

[Othesemo]

Non-Lycuses
Vasyl flinches at the sound of Thomas' voice. However, the words are greeted with nothing but silence. A moment seeming more like an hour passes before Vasyl raises his hand to his face, and issues a low bird call. The sound echos, reverberating, and seemingly magnifying in intensity, before finally fading into silence. You strain your ears, but the world seems dead and still, with nothing but the faint creaking of the wheels and the exhausted exhalation of the donkey to break the reverie.

The peace, however, is shattered by a sound reminiscent of a sack of flour hitting the pavement. Although reason dictates that it is no louder than a whisper, it seems a thundering crash, unrivaled by any titan's steps.

[Silverking]

OOC: I'm pretty sure you meant cloak, although if you actually meant that the body had a clock scribbled onto it, ill be happy to change.:smalltongue:

Keeping his eye out for movement, Lycus walks up to the figure, a confused and concerned look in his eyes. Crouching next to the figure, he whispers down to it. "Hello?" He says, "Are you still alive?"

OOC: I decided not to pull of the cloak, in case you wanted it to respond, but if he isn't going to, you are welcome to have me pull it off to save time.
Also, Lycus prefers the term "Lyci" (Lie-k-eye), or "Lycen" (Lie-sen) when referring to multiples of him. You would be surprised how often it would come up growing up in a village of superstitious magic users and potion makers.

[Othesemo]

Lycus

Your words echo hollowly for a few moments before disappearing altogether. The body remains motionless. Tentatively, you reach out and pull the cloak back. As you do so, the body rolls over onto the ground, flopping almost comically. For a moment, you imagine that it is the face of Dmytro staring back at you, but you soon correct yourself. The body is heavier set, and the head more square. Nonetheless, the resemblance is startling. Across his throat is a thick gash. Although the blood is largely congealed, the would is clearly a recent one.

[Silverking]

Lycus stares at the corpse with a frown for another few seconds, then looks around at the darkness surrounding it. *I doubt this is a coincidence,* He thinks to himself as he quickly frisks the body for clues, identification, and anything of worth, *Someone is after Dmytro.* Getting up and wipeing his hands off on his pants, he turns back toward the direction of the caravan. *I should probably find the others. They could be in danger too.* And with that, he quickly and quietly begins to make his way back.

[planswalker]

Non-Lycuses
Vasyl flinches at the sound of Thomas' voice. However, the words are greeted with nothing but silence. A moment seeming more like an hour passes before Vasyl raises his hand to his face, and issues a low bird call. The sound echos, reverberating, and seemingly magnifying in intensity, before finally fading into silence. You strain your ears, but the world seems dead and still, with nothing but the faint creaking of the wheels and the exhausted exhalation of the donkey to break the reverie.

The peace, however, is shattered by a sound reminiscent of a sack of flour hitting the pavement. Although reason dictates that it is no louder than a whisper, it seems a thundering crash, unrivaled by any titan's steps.


"Just keep going forward, friend. Every step is a step to safety."

[Othesemo]

Non-Lycen
Silence greets you. Nervously, Vasyl mutters "Keep moving. We'll be to safety soon enough."

The cart continues its pace for a while longer, and you hear nothing more. However, after near a minute is passed, you become progressively more aware of a quiet sound in the background- by your best guess, the sound of a number of very loud people a fair distance away from you. A quick glance confirms that Vasyl hears it as well, and seems as nervous as you. As you draw nearer your destination, it slowly intensifies into a low, threatening roll. However, your hope is soon bolstered, as from forth a corner in front of you steps Lycus.

Lycus
Sifting through the corpse turns up little of worth. It carries a simple dagger and a half empty water skin, but nothing that could hint further at the nature of its demise. Turning, you swiftly double back on your steps. As you walk, you begin to become gradually aware of a low sound in the background-by your best guess, the sound of a number of armored men walking out of unison perhaps two or three blocks to your left. However, your worry is soon alleviated as you turn a corner and see the remainder of your companions, as well as Vasyl, slowly plodding along toward you.

[planswalker]

"Can we go any faster?"

[Silverking]

Moving out into the open, Lycus jogs back to the group. After glancing back at the route he had just explored, Lycus tells the others, "From what I could find, the rest of our route should be safe for us. Unfortunately, Dmytro may not be so lucky. Up ahead lies a body bearing a startling resemblance to him, recently murdered. Unless that is a coincidence, I believe someone is looking for him. They may even have already found him."

[GFawkes]

Wendin and Eliani'i finish a long conversation they'd had, separate from the group. Hearing Lycus's comment about Dmytro possibly being dead, they reach for their blades.

"If Dmytro is dead, then the killer may still be around, waiting for us. In any case, we should be alert." Wendin states, drawing his blade. He nods to Eliani'i, and they move to opposite sides of the cart.

[Ajadea]

Dead? Oh no. Mister D couldn't be dead. "He's not dead. We've just gotta find him first," Thomas declares, hopping down off the wagon. He runs off a few steps, then turns back. "You coming?"

[Othesemo]

The stunned silence that Vasyl had held after Lycus' proclamation is broken by a short string of what you assume are profanities in a language that none of you recognize. "Dmytro?" he asks, his face blanched. "Dead? It cannot be...." It is clear that he wishes that he were as certain as his words. "In his message to me, he made no mention of risk." He motions quickly to the driver, who lashes the donkey. The exhausted animal lets out a moan of discontent, but picks up its pace by a small degree.

The now amplified creaking of the wheels and the wheezing breath of the donkey echo between the cramped streets, though not so loudly as to eliminate the low, rumbling sound you marked earlier. Each of you casts about for sight of some cloaked stranger in the shadows, or flurry of movement along the rooftops, but find the roads eerily deserted. Indeed, you see only one sign of habitation- a single room situated atop a pawn shop, illuminated by a lantern. As you pass by, the lantern is dimmed, and a curious head, bedecked in a night cap, pokes out of the window to stare at you. No sooner is his curiosity satiated, however, then he turns back inside, pulling the window and shutters closed. You continue in solitude.

Finally, the cart turns a right corner, and you find yourself situated on a wide boulevard. Unlike the streets you have passed through so far, barely wide enough to accommodate a wagon with a human standing either side, this road is an easy thirty feet across, and is paved with cobblestones. It is illuminated by several housed lanterns lining either side of the street. Perhaps fifty feet in front of you, the lamp has been smashed to pieces, and shadow covers the road. Despite this, however, you are just able to make out a human sized bump in the road.

[planswalker]

Talehos will stay to guard the wagon as they investigate. He smells a trap.

[Silverking]

Lycus will carefully and quietly investigate.