[3.5] First Villain: Gavrid's Tale

[Cardea]

OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=15385968)

{table=head]Player|PC|Build
rypt|Gavrid Ves (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=533743)|Wizard 5 /Swiftblade4 //Heroic Fighter 9[/table]

Dice Rolls (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=15235723)


Days of travel through road and forest have done nothing for your mind or body. Recognized in Jorisburg by some who used to reside in Belrid, the guard did not hesitate to begin to hunt you down. And while you could take on a couple at a time through magic, might and misdirection, eventually they'd send too many, or too much. So escape. Many did find you though, but not in large enough groups, or with enough conviction to run you with a blade. Despite the delay it took, you hid the bodies. Better in the long run.

But running through the woods, parallel to the road, you see a small building at its side. A sign in the front says "Travelers - All Are Welcome!"

There is a light on inside. A single one, you see, through a window.

[rypt]

"We'll see about that," Gavrid mutters as he pulls up alongside a large tree. Not wanting to make it too obvious that he's been running through the woods for the last hour, he waits a few minutes to catch his breath, using that time to clean himself off and to inspect the impromptu dressings on his wounds.

Once his heart rate has slowed, he steps out onto the road, following it as any ordinary traveler would before turning off towards the building. As he enters, he immediately checks for any other guests. If others are present, he looks to see if they are armed.

Gavrid will cast prestidigitation to aid in the cleaning.

Spot: 27 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15236720&postcount=3)

I forgot to change Gavrid's class listing from Wizard to Sorcerer. Sorry about that.

I also moved some points from Intimidate into Bluff. Figure a career criminal should at least be a competent liar.

Lastly, can I get an OOC thread when you have a chance?

Glad this is finally off the ground.

[Cardea]

Entering the building via its main door, you quickly look around. You see one man by a stove, cooking something that smells like meat, and two women near the window near a light. One is running a cloth over a knife, and the other, younger, is putting down a book; you catch the title before she puts it down: The Book of Dusk. The man speaks up. "Travellen' srannjer? Woozs ain' good place be at nigh', yeah? Why don' you grab chaiyuh an' siddown an' sleep heer. Promiss ain' gon' take yo life oh coin. You promiss same, yeah?"

[rypt]

Though Gavrid's eyes linger on the knife momentarily, the blade is a short one, and in the hands of an older woman with food still cooking on the stove, it hardly seems cause for concern.

"Aye," he nods wearily as he steps farther into the room. "I'm not lookin' for trouble."

He pulls up a chair, but doesn't move it too close to the others. I'm not looking for any friends either. As he sits down, he cannot help but grimace, a sharp pain drawing one hand reflexively to his left side. Damn. Maybe they broke a rib after all...

"You folks been here long?" he asks, sparing a glance back at the stairs leading to the second floor. "Seen any others passing through?"

OOC please!

[Cardea]

Taking a seat closer, you notice a small curve in their ears that don't match up with yours. Half-elves. The man speaks again. "Not long, nae. Jess a few days. Hunnin the wil' life, gannerin' hides an furs, y'know. Only you an some drow, and yous a much bedduh sigh' 'an 'em. Mirle had ta cut one of 'em nice befo' they' leave. Can still smell 'em roun' here. But they know not ta come."

[rypt]

Having encountered them a handful of times in the ruins beneath Hostendral, Gavrid perks up at the mention of the drow. "Well, that's uh...that's fine work there, Mirle," he says with a weak smile and an approving nod, his eyes searching instinctively for the knife she had been cleaning a moment before. "I feel safer already..." For all the man's confidence, and the apparent capability of the woman Gavrid assumes to be his wife, the former smuggler is hardly reassured by the knowledge that the drow prowling in the woods are likely to be even less agreeable than they would be on any other day when one of them hasn't been stabbed by an aged half-breed. On any other day, he might have cared a little bit more, but he's already spent enough of today worrying about all the people trying to kill him. Shaking such thoughts from his mind, he turns his attention to the pot on the stove. "What's cookin'?"

[Cardea]

"A scrying spell." The unnamed woman says, speaking up. Her voice doesn't really... come out right. Like if an animal spoke, and tried to imitate the sounds of a person: no rhythm to her speech. "The Drow here were using a portal to get in an out of the area. What you smell is the arm that Mirle cut off."

"We can be havin' some suppuh affuh her spell done. I don' have no tase fo' Drow now, yeah?"

[rypt]

Gavrid turns to the younger woman with a look of amused surprise, a smile quickly spreading across his face. "No kidding?" he says with a hint of laughter. Seeming suddenly revitalized by this unexpected turn of events, he practically springs from his chair as he moves to examine the pot on the stove. "'Hides and furs...'" he scoffs lightly, shaking his head. "How long ago did you begin the casting?" He waits for the answer to this first question before asking a second. "Any idea where that portal leads?" Perhaps somewhere far enough way from here that no one there will recognize me?

[Cardea]

Inside the pot you find a mess of blood, interrupted by chunks of ebony flesh and some cloth. There are a few chain links floating on the surface. It smells of magic, and something wild.

"She be cassin' abou' fiffy min' go now, yeah? Jess five an' five mor' t'go now. But where'm manners. Name's been Crosh, and wee one be Ithica."