A crown for every head [3.5, IC]

[Vladislav]

OOC thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=247605)

The enormous continent of Allansia, surrounded from all sides by the Endless Ocean, dotted by islands.

Zoom in.

In its southern part, the Kingdom of Galadorn, nestled between the mighty rivers of Sheryl and Mineros to the east and west, the Cloudpeak mountains to the north, and the Sorcerer's Sea to the south.

Zoom in.

At the southeastern part of the kingdom, the fertile province of Tallard, fields heavy with yellow barley and wheat.

Zoom in.

At the center of the province, lies Stittlewood, an ancient ancestral elven forest, a land of legend and mysteries. Elves are best left alone, especially given the strain between that race and the current king. But more on that later.

Zoom in.

At the edge of the forest, the township of Misthollow lies. A sleepy, peaceful place. The harvest is good, the creek waters are clear, and the forest is two miles away and well-fenced.

Zoom in.

By the market square, a tavern. Sounds of drunken revelry and clinking of glasses and tankards.

Zoom in.

By the table, six friends sit. A mercenary company fallen on hard times. The villagers, normally not kind to strangers, try to give them space. A performer on the stage gently strums his lute, belting some kind of ballad.

Late is the hour, almost midnight, when the tavern's doors are flung open, and a young man, hair disheveled and clothes torn, bursts in.

Please, help!

Help you with what? Wipe your nose? the villagers jeer.

Please... help and you will be rewarded!

This does get some interest.

[planswalker]

Tirikki says, "Fellah, come sit here with us and tell us all about it. We've got the goods for your numbahs one through three if you help us is numbah five!" Exactly what numbers he is referring to are obscure, unless one happens to know him well enough to understand his ethical goals that guide his life. Being more than a little drunk and slurring his words isn't helping.

[TheDivineWind]

A look of boredom and mild disdain is molded about Iskus's face, "Did a wolf eat another cow? Or has a pig gored open a chicken this time?"

He slumps his forehead onto the rim of his mug and mutters to himself, almost inaudibly, "We need to get out of this town..."

[shugyosha]

Craster

The clean cut Harrod Craster, often called by his last name, shuffled himself to make room for the harried young man. "Sit," while not an order Craster said it in a very compelling manner.

[ShadowySilence]

Tirian's ears perked at the mention of a reward, and although these idiotic peasents could barely count, read, or fight, one thing they could do well was praise their betters and pay them accordingly for their heroics!

He smiles and puts on his best show face, imagining the possible lauding he would receive after defeating whatever challenge this man presented him... ah them, yes them, not him.

He had just had a fine time with a comely tavern girl after he got a bit drunk only shortly before, so he was feeling extra lucky and ready for a good adventure!

Iskus' comment angers him, but he holds back a comment, the hero needed to look and sound his part. Someone like Iskus didn't understand the finer workings of being a true hero...

He was glad Craster and Tirikki told the man to sit, but now was his turn to speak and speak he would "What is it we humble adventurers" he put an emphasis on the word adventureres, he didn't like being called a common mercenary "can do for you my good man, does a beast need slaying, a young damsel rescuing? It does not matter, we can deliever!"

He started speaking even before the man had sat down (if he even plans on doing so), and then waits to hear the response watching with eager eyes and a toothy grin that is reminiscint of a wolf's when it closing in for the kill.

[bluntpencil]

Sir Vincent watches the musician, in an exceptionally bored fashion, sipping at the most expensive wine this hovel of an inn could scrape out of their cellars. It was... adequate at best.

He tried not to grumble, it would only make Lord Craster look bad, and his lord was a better man than he.

Instead, he tossed the scraps left from his meal to Max and Tanja, his two wolf-hounds that lay panting at his feet. To be fair, there were a lot of scraps. It was a big meal, and it tasted foul to his upper-class palette. The hounds seemed to love it, though, which made sense; it was a meal fit for only dogs.

They gnawed on bones and licked gravy from the floor, getting it all over their scruffy grey fur, making their owner groan in exasperation.

He'd had enough of animals for today. True, they were like family, but family could be stupid and embarrassing at the best of times.

At this point he tossed a coin to one of the scullions that were running by, and jerked a thumb towards the stables. Paying him extra would ensure that Rose, his warhorse, was well-cared for.

Swirling his only-just adequate wine in his glass, he straightened up when it appeared they might have work. One should always strive to look respectable in front of a potential employer, after all, even if they were rough and common looking.

He nods politely when Craster bids the boy sit, and remains silent, letting his lord do the talking. However, he scowls when Tirian starts to run his mouth, preferring the more rigid paladin to the flighty singer.

[Vladislav]

The man, or rather kid, since he's on no more than his sixteenth summer, approaches your table tentatively. From up close, you can see the right side of his face is uneven and wrinkly, as if chewed by an animal and spat back onto his head. Both nose and hair, turning away from such unsavory sight, are leaning a bit to the left.

Knowledge Local DC 10
The kid is one of 'dem so-called Mongrelfolk

Please help. Me and my friend, we were hunting in the woods. And he disappeared... I couldn't find him. He takes a deep breath and calms himself a bit. He's nobility. You'll be rewarded.

At the mention of the woods, most villagers rapidly lose interest, mumbling something about letting the grumpkins and snarks have whoever is stupid enough to go there. With the exception of your group, only the singer seems to take any measure of interest in the youth. He ends his performance and saddles a chair by the next table, listening to your conversation.

[shugyosha]

Craster


can take 10 on knowledge local?


Craster examines the boy without flinching. "What makes these woods so dangerous that you need to ask for help?"


knowledge local about these woods
[roll0]

[planswalker]

"Well, fellah, that sounds like a mahty (mighty) important task indeed. Mind if Ah hammer out the spefics (specifics) of what well (we'll) be doin' and what well be paid before riskin' our lives to help ya? Ah been screwed by one too many employahs who catch us for not hammerin' these things out." Tirikki says, his slurred accent getting stronger, as if his last ale was just now hitting him.

[ShadowySilence]

Tirian is disgusted by the boy's looks (and assuming take 10 on that DC roll), and not only that but he appeared to be one of those ghastly mongrelfolk. Well even mongrefolk praise was better than no praise sitting in a tavern without any gold pieces to your name.

At the mention of nobility he became excited and listened very carefully for what the boy would say in response to Tirkki's questioning.

[Ernir]

Archibald has been listening with only mild interest so far, thin fingers woven around the wine cup he has been slowly nursing for most of the evening. While not entirely without sympathy for the boy's apparent plight, what could a peasant possibly have to offer in return for the band's services?
His opinion changes quickly when the magic word of "nobility" is mentioned.
"Nobility, you say?"
"What family does he belong to?"

Knowledge: Nobility & Royalty, to see what I know about the family of the lost boy.[roll0]

[Vladislav]

The kid lowers his voice to a whisper, so you have to lean over to hear him. It's Lord Oleander. His Majesty's nephew.

Archibald, and anyone else with Knowledge Nob/Roy or History 15+
Lord Oleander is the son of the previous king, who was deposed and killed by Galen II (the current king) some 20 years ago in a conflict of sibling rivalry.

He continues, I know His Lordship is a generous man, and will not let his saviors go unrewarded. And he has powerful patrons in court too... I don't unfortunately have any money myself, he concludes in embarrasement. I'm just a squire.

[shugyosha]

Craster

He disliked having to repeat himself and it shows in his voice, "What is in these woods that you think he is in danger?"

[TheDivineWind]

Iskas listens quietly, his head still on the edge of the mug, as everyone else tries to get information and details out of the squire.

As the bargaining goes on, he stands up and walks towards the kid, "Anything is better than sitting around. Lets go and work out the details on the way. Maybe this Oleander will lead to better, more productive, contracts."

[bluntpencil]

Sir Vincent doesn't trust the ugly peasant. His baseborn nature was likely the reason for his horrific visage. On account of this upper-class bigotry, he leans in to whisper to Craster.

"Milord, why is this peasant boy hiring mercenaries instead of Lord Oleander's family? I think he may be, in some way, partly responsible."

[shugyosha]

Craster

Craster turns to his friend and gives a knowing nod. The same thought crossed his mind but he still wanted to know what they might be up against and whether it was worth the risk of not getting paid.

[Vladislav]

Craster

He disliked having to repeat himself and it shows in his voice, "What is in these woods that you think he is in danger?"
The boy calms down a bit and you manage to squeeze some details out of him.

We were chasing a deer at noontime, and I lagged behind. 'tis not my fault, it's just that my horse can't charge for the life of it. Oleander went ahead, and then I caught up to him, or rather caught up to his horse, 'cause he wasn't in the saddle no more. I called and called, but there was no reply. I circled the forest for a while, looking, but then it started getting dark...

He swallows. I got scared. They say the forest is haunted. Monsters and ghosts, and Elven magics. I saw... all sorts of shadows in the brush as I was leaving. And red burning eyes. I don't know what happened to him...

He nods in agreement with Iskas. Yes, if we could go as soon as possible... do you all have horses? I have Oleander's horse, if y'need a spare.

[planswalker]

"Yesh, letsh get a mauve on!" Tirikki slurrs, heading to the nearest horse. "Pony, gimme a ride!" He says to the horse's leg.

[Vladislav]

A gush of red paints the boy's cheeks as Craster and Vincent whisper among themselves, and Craster realizes he may have overheard them, secretive as they tried to be. Seems like he's better at listening than at hiding his emotions.

[TheDivineWind]

Iskus follows Tirikki to the horse and mounts it as Tirikki argues with its leg. He leans down and offers a hand to help the halfling up onto the horse.

"Seat is up here, Tirikki. *he helps him up if his hand is accepted* Perhaps we'll get to clobber something."

[bluntpencil]

Vincent heads out to the stable, his dogs chasing after him. He saddles his steed carefully, then mounts, fixing his helm in place as he does so. He complains to Craster about the job, in part because there is no actual contract, but largely because it looks like a waste of time.

"Are we simply chasing a boy who fell off his horse? A riding accident is beneath us, milord."

[planswalker]

Tirikki takes the offered hand. "Thanksh."

[ShadowySilence]

Tirian suspects something more is too be told with this story, but he stays quiet. The hero needed to know when to stay queit in the name of glory.

When it was time to get the horses ready he smiled, his black, light warhorse Calios was tied up outside and ready to ride. He mounts Calios, sitting comfortably in his military saddle which has his family coat of arms inscribed on both sides.

He replies to Vincent, ignoring who it was originally aimed at "Oh, don't worry Vincent, be it riding accident or actual danger, a family like the Oleander's will pay for his safe return."

He makes sure his bow, Rapier, and Lyre are secured as he prepares to ride out when the others are ready.

[shugyosha]

Craster

He rubs an old scar at the mention of Elves. There was no promise of coin only hints, and the threats of shadows and things that go bumb in the night. Craster got up from the table and said, "I'll ride your master horse, mine was sacrificed in our last skirmish. We'll double up if we need to, let's go."

Once outside he catches Vincent, trust friend through out Craster's hard times. He had once asked him not to address him by his title as he was without a house but truth be told he did like like it and made no attempts of correction after the first time.

In quiet words he says to him privately, "Men are restless and need something to do. We'll take a look; if there is nothing we'll be back in time for dinner. If we find something maybe we'll get coin."

[bluntpencil]

Vincent nods politely to his lord, and rides slightly behind him, to his right, as he thinks is his due. His dogs pace next to him, and he turns to ask their 'employer' a reasonably intelligent question.

"Boy! Do you have any of the young lord's possessions, or anything bearing his scent?"
The hounds could sniff him out, after all...

[Vladislav]

As the group steps out of the inn, Archibald lags behind for a moment. The singer, who was listening in on the entire conversation tells him, you know, given that he's the nephew of the king, and from a not-very-popular brother ... I wonder what the reward will be for him not to return safely... someone will surely be happy to foot that bill.

Anyway, let me know how it turns out. I may write a song about it.

With that, he returns to the stage, leaving Archibald free to follow the group, if he's so inclined.

Outside, everyone mount their horses, and the mongrelfolk lad is ready to guide them to the edge of the forest, and beyond, where the lord was last seen.


"Boy! Do you have any of the young lord's possessions, or anything bearing his scent?"

He points at his master's horse, the one Craster taken to himself. The saddle, I reckon. And y'can take a look at the saddlebags, if it'll help.

[planswalker]

"Yeah, off a noble with big connections thinking they'll be happy with that... I've found that very few people in authority are happy with us common dirt offing them, even disliked ones."

Wait, what happened to the drunken slob?

[bluntpencil]

Vincent looks to Craster, and raises his visor, giving him quite the questioning look. It's obvious he wants something for the dogs to sniff out.

[shugyosha]

Craster

With Archy's words Craster frowns as he is undoing the saddle bags. He turns abruptly and tosses the bags to Vincent and walks past him "I forgot something, I'll be back.".

Reentering the tavern he first scans the room looking for anyone who might be dangerous. He carefully walks back to the bar and asks the bar tender quietly, "Barkeep, a quick question, do you prefer the previous king or his brother?"

[Vladislav]

Are ye trying to trick me into treason? We don't take kindly to that in these parts, young lad. King Galen* is a friend to the smallfolk, and a most pious man. Everyone knows that.

* the current king

[shugyosha]

Craster

"Yes, that is what everyone says," he replied. It was the answer he expected but not the answer he wanted. He wanted truth but it was enough that the man feared treason for simple words.

His own father didn't let fear of treason hold the smallfolks tongue... but then again that might be why he last the war.

"Thank you," he said and returned to his men.

[ShadowySilence]

Tirian smiles dreamily, the ale still flowing through his system, and the promise of possible glory and gold at his fingertips. He could just see it now, the bards telling of his glory later, saving the son of the king who los... wait... the king who lost.

He suddenly snapped from his stupor and thinks to himself *Wait, what if someone wanted this lad to dissapear... If that is so, we could be walking into some sort of big noble house conspiracy here or something... we could get tangled up in a whole mess of trouble... Perhaps this is truly just the opportunity I needed...* He smiles to himself, happy to keep his plans and thoughts secret for the moment.

Tirian turns to Craster when he returns as he positions himself in his saddle, wondering what it was he had gone to retrieve.

[bluntpencil]

Vincent rummages through the saddlebags of the missing (probably dead) boy, looking for anything interesting, in particular anything that will hold a scent, but also anything that will give him a clue as to what's going on here.

[Vladislav]

Vincent finds a set of dirty clothes, some camping gear, a pair of knives, a book titled Kings of Galadorn, and a pouch that by the looks of it holds some coin.

[bluntpencil]

Vincent leaves all of the items in the saddlebags, save the clothing; he was no thief after all. Besides, the coin would likely be considered part of their reward.

He waves the dirty clothing at the peasant boy, asking a question,

"Boy? Are these your master's clothes?"
Assuming a positive response, he leans down to his large dogs, letting them get the scent.

"Seek."

Taking 10 at Handle Animal for 15

[shugyosha]

Craster

He walked over to horse and mounted it quickly. "Okay, boy. Lead us to where you last saw your lord and we'll start our search."

[Ernir]

Mentally sighing after counting all the ways this could go wrong, Archibald gathers up his weapons (even if mostly for show), and prepares to head out with the rest.

Mindful of the danger involved with sharing the singer's grisly, but potentially best course of action in front of the boy, he tries to get him out of the way quietly. "You may want to get to bed once we have picked up the trail, lad. You've done enough for the evening."

[ShadowySilence]

Tirian agrees with Archibald, although not for the same reasons, and with an extra demand "Yes boy, the work of heroes is not for everyone, and we would hate for you to come to harm when we go about it. Lead the way, as my good friend Archibald says, but do not head home. Wait at the inn, here take these coins and buy yourself a room for the night if you truly must, but make sure you are there when we return." He throws the boy 5 silver pieces, enough to buy him a common room for the night. He spoke forcefully so as to say it was a demand, not simply a suggestion. All the while however he kept the calm look and smile of a hero about him, he had to look good for those who may soon praise him.

He didn't trust the common folk as far as he could throw them, and something about this boy seemed just off to him. If this ended up being a stupid game, a lie, or a trap he wanted to make sure to repay this lad...

He checks his prized Rapier again, making sure it was secure at his side. He could already imagine the possible adventure ahead of them.

[Vladislav]

"Boy? Are these your master's clothes?"
He nods.

The forest marge is before you, like a dark wall. Gnarled oak trees are packed densely, but there is little undergrowth. Following your guide, you pass the first row of trees, and then the second, and soon the external world is lost beyond the endless trunks and branches, and all is left is the small area illuminated by torches.

Your guide seems unconfident as to exactly which place it was where the young lord was lost. Eventually, he stops at a spot of forest that seems no different from any other, and says, I think it was here.

At the multiple suggestions that he leaves, the boy shakes his head. I'm responsible for him. I can't just go back when he's in danger.

Map (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0AsV8OA2zHc74dFBha1hlcXNyUFN2MnQ4WENQZ1Vte Gc)
Black = tree. Blocked terrain, and provides cover
Green = dense undergrowth. Move at half-speed, can't run, charge or 5'-step
Grey = regular terrain

I have placed the mongrelfolk kid (MF) somewhere near the middle. Place yourself as you like ("Vi" for Vincent, "Is" for Iskus, and so on), then you can start with search, spot, survival, or whatnot. If you want to further argue with the kid, roll for whichever social skill applies

[shugyosha]

Craster

"Alright, let's see what your dogs can do," he says to Vincent as he lights a torch.

[bluntpencil]

Vincent lets his dogs sniff at the clothing, then urges them to seek the boy.

"Aye, milord."
They keep quiet, knowing only to bark if in trouble, and race off.


At 11 N+O, mounted on my steed. The dogs race off wherever.

Survival check per dog:
Max
[roll0]
Tanja
[roll1]

[TheDivineWind]

Iskus follows the group!

DRAMATIC

[shugyosha]

Craster

Craster waves the torch slowly illuminating the forest as best he can.


K 15,16
spot
[roll0]

[planswalker]

Tirikki dismounts and keeps an eye out while getting ready to disappear into the brush to scout things out if necessary.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Ernir]

"Suit yourself, kid. Try to stay out of trouble."

"I'm not much of a woodsman, and you know it. Any of you have an idea of what happened here?", he says to the others, taking out his crossbow.

Spot: [roll0]
Listen: [roll1]