A Dark and Stormy Night IC [3.5]

[theos911]

The hail is falling harder by the minute and you can hear trees falling in the distance. Hightower stands within your vision and seems as a good a shelter as any.

You can briefly hear the laughing of orcs and then a blood curtailing scream of a far off gnoll.

"Seems someone's not honoring the Storm Peace you wonder."

You all are aware of the directions you are coming from. Please describe the last bit of your approach to the tower and then feel free to enter and converse.


{table=head] Player Name | Role|Race | Class| Sheet | Approved?
Aldurin | Damage | Lesser Drow | Fighter | Dirk Mendther (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=491509) | X
Toska Moriarty | Damage | Human | Fighter | Donnovan Cross (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=491515) | X
D_Man_7733 | Healer/Skill | Gnome | Bard | Jempick Deirnol Nibble (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=490724) | X
J-H | Skill | Human | Scout |Pyotr Herdson (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=490745) | X
Seer_of_Heart | Skill | Human | Factotum | Name? (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=491533) | X
HopeHubris | Skill | Changeling | Rogue | Nit (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=348822) | X
Leush | Mage | Human | Wiz (Nec) | Fabian Theophile (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=491391) | X
niw18 | Mage | Sun Elf | Shadowcaster | Laucian Naïlo (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=424191) | X
[/table]

[J-H]

"Just what I need, rain and raiders a-both," Pyotr whispers to himself. He checks to make sure his bowstring is still dry under his cloak, and that he can get to it and his arrows quickly. He moves slightly off the path he was in to present a smaller target, and forgoes speed for stealth as he approaches heads towards the tower, which is conveniently silhouetted every few seconds by bolts of lightning.


Hide [roll0]
Move Silently [roll1]

[Leush]

The young man, well wrapped in his white cloak whose hem is well stained, fights a losing battle with a large umbrella as he approaches the tower via the northern road. This could possibly be attributed to the fact since he leans on a shovel with his other arm, his attention is divided between two fronts. As the most unsavoury howls bring news of the Gnoll's demise, he stops in his tracks, listening, looking up somewhat. Then he hastens on towards the tower.

He smiles slightly under his hood. And with this, our tracks and scent shall both be washed away, like the miserable lives of uncouth beasts. Pray, Viper, that we will not be joining them.

Once he reaches the entrance of the tower, assuming, of course, that he does reach it, the young man will once again, pause to listen and glance back into the woods for signs of anything un-towards, before peering into the darkness of the entrance.

That's some nice rolls there J-H. Fabian will roll for Spot ([roll0]) and Listen ([roll1])

[Aldurin]

Traveling eastward, Dirk had about enough with the rain. His cloak was soaked as were the rest of his clothes, and he could only hope that his crossbow wasn't water-damaged. Storm Peace or not, he's going to go into that tower and get dry.

[D_Man_7733]

STORM PEACE, STORM PEACE! Jempick shouts over his shoulder, slowing down slightly to look behind him I wonder how long ago the guards stopped chasing me? he thinks to himself, one solid bit of hail knocking him out of his thoughts. AH, to hightower, let's go, let's not stop

Running for the tower he slows down as he approaches getting a better look, if anyone is also there, greeting them if he sees them "Storm Peace, fellows, I am Jempick Deirnol Nibble, or the Talespinner, you may have heard of me, but if you haven't then you will soon" giving a smile Jempick stops to dry off his cape, the insignia on it clearly visible to those around. His greeting seems oddly rehearsed, and natural.

Rolls
Bardic Knowledge (on hightower): [roll0]
Knowledge (history) (hightower): [roll1]
Listen: [roll2]
Spot: [roll3]

[HopeHubris]

Stopping to catch his breath, noticing a large tower illuminated by the lightning, Nit approaches it cautiously, trying to remember if he'd heard of it before
Hopefully I've lost the guards, I wouldn't want to chase me in this rain... Wait a minute... Well, damn, I didn't have to be me he shifts into an attractive male with blonde hair and blue eyes, standing at 6'2 Well, too late to return now anyway, I'll have to make for that tower for tonight he thinks to himself as he approaches from the north, leaving the cover of the forest not bothering to hide, trusting in the storm peace to protect, completely missing the cries in the distance


Knowledge Local (The tower is close enough that he may have heard of it, no?)
[roll0]
And or if it belonged to a noble, Nobility [roll1]
Spot: [roll2]
Listen: [roll3]

[Seer_of_Heart]

Damn it, I wish I could make it a bit further before having to stop for the night on account of weather. Oh well, that tower seems like a decent place to hide in with weather this bad. Those orcs sound like they'll be a problem but they'll easily be outwitted by me As Nic wraps a cloak over his head running to the tower.

[theos911]

As you approach
Ahead in the distance, a large tor rises from the ground, its form illuminated by the occasional lightning bolt. It seems rocky and solid, and though climbing it in this weather would be folly, it might have some outcropping that would provide safety from the storm. The only alternative is to endure the weather.

As you arrive at the small clearing outside the tower you come to see:
The massive tor towers above the surrounding country. A few narrow ledges offer scant protection from the elements, but a closer inspection reveals a massive, arched entryway at least 20 feet tall and 10 feet wide, set into the side of the hill. The ground just outside it slopes away from the doorway, directing the falling water out and away. Given this fact and the sturdy nature of the hill, whatever space lies beyond the door should be both dry and safe from lightning and hail. The construction seems quite sturdy, so the likelihood of collapse, even in severe conditions such as these, is remote.

I need some spot checks :smallwink:

[Seer_of_Heart]

((OOC: carp my spots low :( ))
[roll0]+4=11

((going to edit in the total result once the roll comes out))

[HopeHubris]

Approaching the... mass grave as he seems to remember it, from the north
Well, this is just brilliant, but I suppose it's tomb or nothing and I do hear someone shouting for storm peace, so I should be safe enough it thinks, noticing that he wasn't the only one looking for shelter here

"Greetings fellow wet-folk, and a good storm-peace to you all, don't want any trouble myself"



Spot: [roll0]

[Leush]

Fabian suppresses a twitch and turns slowly, he puts on the face of concern, taking a calculated step back into the archway and hopefully out of the rain. No, these strangers weren't here for him. There was no way they could know anything. If anything, they strengthened his alibi. He shifts his eyes between the two with a mild curiosity.

"Certainly, I have no intention of starting any kind of incident, regardless of the weather." He gives a curt nod to the tall man and the Talespinner. "In fact, as civilised folk, it would be prudent to afford the safety that numbers could afford us in the face of the Orcs prowling this forest, who it seems, don't honour the stormpeace"

Fabian did not for a moment doubt that these folk, who most likely had their own less than proper reasons for coming here, would have their uses.

He closes his umbrella following s brief inspection and leans the shovel again the wall.

"Fabian Theophile, son of Dorian, pleased to meet you," He addresses them with the slightest of bows.

[J-H]

A cloaked figure steps out of the rain behind the group. "I'm Pyotr. Stormpeace to you all.

I just saw a goblin running really fast away from here... did any of you chase it off?"


Spot [roll0]

[Aldurin]

As he approaches the tower, Dirk stops and claimed Stormpeace from a safe distance the moment he encounters the others.

[roll0]

[Toska Moriarty]

From the south marched Donnovan Cross, torn and muddied cloak over his shoulders but not his head. Rain and hail alike 'ping-ed' off his helmet, which hid his face completely. Relying on the lightning to see, he moved during the dark spots, stopping to look around again each time things light up again.

The cloak had long ago lost most of its fasteners, so the rugged and torn tabbard over his chain armor still declared him a Knight from the Holy Order of St. Cuthburt, though a rather unkempt and dirty one. Grunting through the underbrush, with heavy war-pick gripped tightly in one hand, he moved toward the Tower; likely the best place to defend oneself overnight.

With a trail as obvious as his, it was likely he'd have to do just that. The talking in the distance slows him slightly, though he can clearly hear others asking for and offering 'Storm Peace' with one another. Fools. The quickest to hide behind a 'Storm Peace' were often the ones most willing to stab others in their sleep.

Making no attempts to hide himself, he gradually walks closer to the gash in the hillside. He cannot help but shudder at the resemblance to another location not too far from here. Outside of that, he gradually walks toward the others, almost drawn in by the conversation, but not speaking.

[Aldurin]

Noticing something to the south Dirk walks that direction to get a closer look at the object that caught his eye.

[theos911]

Aldurin and Toska:
You meet up with each other and discover the carcass of a goblin. It appears to have been recently killed, apparently via head trauma.

[Toska Moriarty]

Kicking the corpse and grunting, the large and armored man is quickly satisfied that it's dead. He stands, looking around in the woods, ears ready under his helmet, trying to spot whatever killed it.

[roll0] Spot
[roll1] Listen

Either way, his hand tightens around his weapon, shield raised slightly against the hail, and he appraises the other figure nearby.

[theos911]

The hail suddenly takes a turn for the lethal and your greetings are cut short. You all quickly shuffle into the tower, lest ye be pummeled outside.

The stone chamber beyond the entrance measures at least ten paces square. Peeling paint and broken scrollwork suggest that it was once decorated with some care, but now only dust remains. Three massive stone doors—one each to the left and right, and one directly across from the entrance—lead deeper into the tor. Near the corner of the room is a what appears to be the fresh remnants of a fire. There is the faint smell of damp smoke, masking the expected mustiness.

[Toska Moriarty]

The armored and as-of-yet unspeaking man shrugs his way past the others and into the ante-chamber of the Tor. Still gripping his weapon, he sniffs at the air and peers into the darkness; others were here not long ago. He steps up to the door opposite the entrance, looking at it for any obvious signs of recent movement.

[J-H]

Pyotr walks over towards the old fire, checking for tracks and any indication of who was there, how long ago they may have left, etc.


Search [roll0]
Survival [roll1]

[D_Man_7733]

Looking up from his book Jempick only suddenly notices the people around him... funny that. "Greetings fellows... wait I said that already haven't I?" muttering a curse to himself, Jempick scratches something into his book with a giggle. As dry as he can be, he looks around wonderingly, waling up to some of the tattered broken scrollwork, muttering again, about the stories that they could tell.

"Well this seems like a good place to start as any. To those of you who I missed with my introductions, I am Jempick, but you can call me teh talespinner, or Jem, or well, it doesn't really bother me. Perhaps we should go for a little exploring? Nothing like a bit of adventure to lift the spirits on dark days.", looking around he takes in his companions, tapping a sundrod to the ground, he begins using it as a cane.

[Aldurin]

Dirk stays wary, of both the others and of what lurks in the dark and mutters, "Cheerful during a storm, possible sign of insanity. Great."

[roll0] Spot Check
[roll1] Listen Check

[Leush]

Fabian relaxes slightly as what seems like the rest of everyone, their dog and extended family pile into the entry hall. A collection as motley as this could only be gathered here by chance.

Take care Viper. We have come to the great ball to which we are invited by the fates. It is best that you not forget the proper etiquette of staying unseen by strangers, in the warmth of my sleeve.

He observes the silent soldier for a minute, seeming lost in a musing, then keeping an eye on him strolls towards the tapestries, using the shovel as a walking staff...

"Well Tailspinner, as luck would have it, I came here specifically for the sake of exploration," he utters, lightly. "Though I suspect that if we do not take due care the tale of the rediscovery of the depths of Hightower will be a tragically short and unsung tale."


OOC: Exploration of the room- Search: [roll0]
Knowledge (Architecture): [roll1]
Knowledge (Dungeoneering): [roll2]
Theos, if they are appropriate, please feel free to roll any other knowledge checks for Fabian.

[Toska Moriarty]

The knight merely grunts to himself, back turned; acknowledging the conversation but not participating. It was unlikely he'd be with this group long, so why should he bother with pleasentries?

Shield still at the ready, the end of his pick gently 'clinks' against the floor as he leans forward, peering into the darkness of the middle doorway, looking and listening for any sign of movement.

SPOT: [roll0]

LISTEN: [roll1]

[theos911]

Donnovan and Pyotr head over to the fire, not far off from the front left corner of the room. There are no tracks on the stone floor, but there is a old gritty gnome sized backpack leaning on the wall near the fire and a small deployed bedroll, also old and worn out looking. The backpack has some moist mud on the bottom, suggesting recent usage.

The little gnome is rather chatty and his small voice echoes eerily through the large room.

Dirk searches around the room and notices all three doors are locked.

Fabian can tell from the architecture that building is exceedingly sturdy, except for some small cracks in the walls.


The storm continues to rage outside and those near the door receive a cool, moist breeze.

[J-H]

Pyotr turns to the room and addresses the group with a question:
"Does this pack belong to any of you?

If not, then someone else is, or was, around here recently."

[HopeHubris]

"It is not mine storm-friend" Nit replies cheerfully, "And I do not believe the little talespinner here put anything down"

[D_Man_7733]

A PACK! A tower and/or ruin, it might be the resting place of the great Grissom Leen, the legendary gnomish fighter... wait... has anybody seen any trace of this being underwater? no, no of course not, there aren't even any tentacle crabs around here

Going from happy to slightly depressed to amused at the untold story, Jempick waves off the pack in a way to say "that's not mine".

[Leush]

Fabian inspects the walls for a little longer,.

As you would expect, strong enough to stand the test of time, but as utterly devoid of meaning as the empty skulls of the beasts that erected it.

Then he makes a leisurely turn to eye the pack, and while some dismayed part of him protests at the sheer bludgeoning idiocy of a man thinking that this pack could possibly be his, he remains, as is appropriate, civil.

"My, you must be jesting, Talespinner, for anything belonging to the long dead warriors would have surely decayed and become unfit for use by now." He pauses. "Still, since it is not one of ours, I wonder why it was left here? Not only did someone civilised come here recently, but he left in such a hurry that he neglected to bring his luggage. What did that little man see, I wonder, that compelled him to leave in such a hurry?"

[J-H]

"Well, I did see a goblin running away on my way here. Let's see what's in the pack..."

Pyotr picks it up and opens it, looking for anything unusual or that would identify the owner.

[theos911]

The pack contains a worn set of small clothes, some grubby rations, several rusty daggers, a couple bones, and a dirty looking stick.

[J-H]

Knowledge checks to identify the bones

K: Dungeoneering [roll0]
K: Nature [roll1]

[theos911]

Bones:
Far too small to be any humanoid, likely a small animal

[J-H]

"Hmmm... nothing too interesting here. Whoever owns this obviously isn't well-equipped.

We can either wait out the storm, or try to get through one of the doors."

[Toska Moriarty]

The armored figure in the back of the room, takes several clanking steps out of the way of the locked door; moving just off to the side of it. Listening to the others bicker about this small sack of presumed crap, he leans back against the wall, armor groaning and the end of his weapon clinking to the ground; still gripped, but resting.

At the idea of moving forward, he ever so slightly shrugs, the small movement lifting his shoulderplates enough that water trapped in them leaks down to the floor. He had clearly spend quite some time outside. The small spots of grime and rust on the suit prove that his staying outside was far from rare.

[Aldurin]

Dirk watches the others analyze the area, still wary of these strangers.

[Leush]

"Is that so? You saw a goblin flee from here? Now why ever would it head away from shelter in this kind of weather?" He addresses Poetr's question, before turning and walking towards the door. So Viper, it appears that we are doomed to continue this hazardous charade for a short while longer and risk our necks to save our skins.

He stops a few meters short of one of the doors, peering at it and tapping the tip of his umbrella on the floor absent mindedly.

"...Even forgetting his bag. Either he was in a great hurry to get to somewhere or away from here," he reasoned aloud. "Now that makes me even more curious."

He turns to consider the iron clad figure. Dangerous. Very dangerous. But perhaps to be of use later.

"Poetr, Mr Talespinner, do either of you gentlemen fancy joining me and finding out what lies behind this door? He calls almost cheerfully.

[J-H]

"I'd rather find out what's behind the door now than in four hours when I'm asleep. Do you have a way to open it?"

[Toska Moriarty]

The en-armored figure continues to watch the others and listen, keeping quiet still. Talking early was rarely the right choice; and he was still working on his opinions of the others, especially the chattier ones. Coincidentally, it seemed the smaller ones were the loudest. Strange how often that happens.

Almost prompted by the question about opening the door, he slowly pushes himself off the wall, armor creaking back into a totally upright position. With a single overacted movement, he hefts the warpick up through the air before him and over his shoulder, a heavy, tinny 'klang' echoing through the room. His shoulders turn after his head, and eventually he's facing the two chatterboxes and their locked door.

His intention, though unspoken so far, was obvious; if it meant they quieted down a bit, ripping through that door would be easy enough.

[D_Man_7733]

"I believe we are all in agreeance? Break down the door to find what is on the other side, now then, if the great muscle over there is ready, I say we see if he is the reincarnation of the great Warlord Drindlegarron, the half-giant who could break down doors with a flick, and although slightly smaller, there is no doubt that he should be able to solve our problem... so I guess it's time to CHAAARGE!" Flourishing his cloak he jumps out of the way making room for the armoured figure.

You all feel inspired by the speech, and feel the courage to keep going through the unknown of what is behind that door, fear leaving you as you become more confident in your abilities to handle anything. (tanslation: Activating inspire courage, everyone gets a +1 morale bonus to:
Saving throws against charm and fear
Attack and weapon damage rolls.)

3 uses of Bardic music left
+1 Morale to ST vs Fear
+1 Morale to ST vs Charm
+1 Morale to Attack
+1 Morale to Weapon Damage

[theos911]

Jempick gives a rather impressive speech and everyone seems to feel a bit better about the situation.

Donnovan raises his pick and swings out one holy hell of a walloping, but the stone door is barely nicked and the pick bounces back so violently it nearly tears Donnovan's arm off with it.

The massive "CLANNGGGGG" echoes throughout the room and you can faintly hear the sound of something like ice cracking under a heavy weight.

"Hopefully, it isn't stone," you ponder - then the front left corner wall starts to leak water into the room quicker, quicker, and quicker yet - putting out the remnants of the fire with a smokey, steamy "Psshhhhh."

[J-H]

"Well, crud." Pyotr looks around in the darkness.

"I can start a fire, but what do we burn?"

[D_Man_7733]

Inspire courage still active for concentration +5 (still concentrating)
+1 Morale to ST vs Fear
+1 Morale to ST vs Charm
+1 Morale to Attack
+1 Morale to Weapon Damage

"AHA! there is no need for fire, when I have the legendary tales of magic that flow through the world, such as those of great light." With a click, balls of light begin floating around Jempick like torches.

Used dancing lights 0/uses left