The Life in Your Stories [IC]

[Ajadea]

The town of Whitefall sits at the edge of a river, as many towns do. Not twenty minutes away from the north edge of town, the ground abruptly goes up, transitioning from brown hills to steep gray cliffs without so much as a pause. The river, accordingly, becomes a great waterfall, crashing down from the tall mountains to churn the waters below into a froth.

Other than the constant roar of the waterfall in the background, Whitefall is a rather quiet place. Evening slowly settles upon the town, bringing with it a steady, cold, drizzle of spring rain. Travelers, the weary, and those who just couldn't stand to get any wetter all come to the tavern now. It is crowded, but pleasantly warm. Every table has at least two people sitting at it. The air is thick with the smell of muddy leathers, good beer, and toasting cheese in equal measure.

In the corner nearest the door, a giant of a man sits, chugging beer as if it is water. His hair and beard is gray and his face lined with wrinkles. Despite a strict no-weapon policy in the tavern, he has a broadsword strapped to his back. An equally wrinkled and graying woman sits next to him, reading quietly from a thick tome, pages yellowing. Her robe is rich royal purple, and the collar is studded with pearls. The dwarf sitting across from her matches the human drink for drink, laughing all the while. He is red of hair, clean-shaven, balding and fat, and wears thick leather gloves over his hands. The strangest of all is an elf, a pale and willowy thing dressed all in dusty black. Pale green tattoos mark his or her face, and the elf is, apparently, sharing in the same drinks as the human man and the dwarf, though at a somewhat slower pace.

A thin blonde woman sits on a stool in front of the fire. She plays a lap-harp, and sings a beautiful song in an high, ethereal, voice. None of you understand a word of it, and it seems unlikely that anyone else here does. Still, the halfling man walking around the fire with a hat is apparently acquiring a steady stream of coin. Most of what he gets is copper and silver.

[Kymme]

Will didn't mind the rain.

The downpour of little droplets splatters on his bare skin and weighs down his woolen robes, but the young man smiles none the less. He glances skyward, indigo eyes scanning the overcast sky. It seems that Nox's western cousins are just as liberal with their tears. I wonder what ails them so.

William's stomach rumbles and he sits up from the bench he had been resting on. His bare feet slap the wet flagstones as he approaches the glowing tavern. The music comes to him first and though he doesn't know the tune Will still manages to hum along with it. He pushes open the door and shakes the water from his hair before searching for a seat. He picks a place near the harpist and watches her, enraptured in her beautiful song.

[Qwertystop]

As the new man paused to find a seat, Chris waved him over – He looks like an interesting one to talk to. – and began to introduce himself – "I noticed you were looking for a seat, and I was looking for a chat. I am..." – slight freeze on noticing Wil's odd eyes, tries to pass it off as a pause-for-effect – "...Christopher, an artist, and you are..?"

[jamieth]

A young woman clad in a light-pink-ish kimono sits in the corner, quietly sipping her tea and waving a fan in her hand to the tune of the song. A nice one... the movements almost come to me on their own. If she'll be here again tomorrow, maybe I'll ask her to perform together... I wonder though, what should I dance today? Something lively, perhaps, to drive off the cold..."

[Tychris1]

Jonathan sat on the opposite side of the room in comparison to the Harp player, his eyes focused on the ceiling, watching the way the flames flicked back and forth and caused the shadows to dance with such ease. He began to hum a brief tune, his eyes still focused on the dancing shadows. A smile crept across his face, spreading from ear to ear as he listened to the Harp player. Most other inns had crummy players, half wits who banged some instrument together snd expected money in return. This harp player on the other hand seemed to be a cut above the rest. Certainly not as skilled as his beloved, but still talented.

And where talent lies, excitement is soon to follow.

Looking down from the shadows across the ceiling, Jonathan took one last drink of his mug, and pulled his Fiddle out from underneath his chair. The ebony indtrument was well crafted, and worth a damn lot too, and he loved the thing like no other. Holding the bow and fiddle in one hand, he grabbed the chair and began to push his way to next to the fire. He slammed the chair down three feet away from the harpist, placed one foot on the seat, and balanced his other foot ontop of its ear. Propping his chin against the chin guard he flashed his grin at the harpist and began to play his own tune. He didn't really know what to play or sing, and so he decided to make something up on the spot. He sang in Draconic, improvising a song about a Shadow Dragon who became lost on the fields of battle. His eyes intently staring into the dancing shadows as he played his song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGCsyshUU-A).

Casting Improvisation, using the +1 on this Perform check.

Perform:[roll0]

[Ajadea]

The room goes quiet when Jonathan slams his chair down next to the harpist. As he begins to play, she pauses, hand held above the string as the last note dies away. The halfling sets down his hat and rolls up his sleeves, but a single nod from the lady stops him in his tracks.

While Jonathan is clearly no slouch as a fiddler, it is not as good a performance as the harpist gave, and everyone in the room can hear the difference. Her rapt audience turns back to their seats, and by the time he has finished his improvised song, there is maybe a third as many people paying attention as before.

"Not bad, for an amateur," the harpist comments lightly as he finishes.

[Kymme]

Will smiles at Christopher and takes a seat next to him. He tilts his head to the side, more puzzled than amused, when the artist pauses his introduction. When asked to introduce himself a sort of surprised fear crosses the youth's face. "I a-am called W-William," he stammers quietly. "A-a nomad."

Then he nods, self-assuredly, at having found the appropriate word to describe himself. He wrings some of the rain from his sleeve and glances back towards the harpist and the fiddler. "The music is nice, is it not? It has been many a night since I've heard such sweet sounds."

[Tychris1]

Jonathan smiled softly to himself, perhaps not his greatest performance, but he rather liked the tune, and would keep it in his mind for further refinement in the future. That is until, of course, the harpist insulted him. His face grew wide, his eyes opening as his mouth was agape. Blood rushed through his veins, his face blushing in indignation, and a spark roared within his chest. He reached into his pockets, fumbling about as he eventually grabbed what he was looking for, and promptly thrusted it out.

"AMATEUR! AMATEUR! Why I never.... This god forsaken bitch....."

He thought to himself. Held tightly within his hand was his entire coin purse, save the 10 gold pieces he slid out and kept for himself. Gripped tightly with his rage, he threw the purse down with all the force he could muster, and then jabbed a finger at the Harpist.

"AMATEUR! I'll show you who's a damn amateur! You and me, 1 song. Everything I got here for everything he's got there,"

And with that he points his finger at the halfling, a sneer of bitter and hurt pride scorched across his face. AMATEUR! The very word revolted him. Reaching down he grabbed the sack and tossed it to the halfling.

"Here, let your thug count it. Winner takes all. So what'll it be......."

He barely held back his rage enough to refrain from adding the word "whore" to the end of that statement. AMATEUR! Oh it burned him so. As his scowl grew deeper, a niggling thought wormed its way in the back of his head, and he began to realize he betted almost all the money he had saved up.

Jonathan really needed to stop drinking when he had money.

[DoctorGlock]

Jack Hawthorne walked out of the rain in a threadbare mottled cloak looking to spend his last pennies on the strongest drink he could afford.

It was his normal nightly ritual. Come to bar. Get sloshed. Pass out. Forget. Usually in that order, too. He'd listen to the rumors and find some work, which would in turn yield some more pennies so he could forget for another night. The bartender knew his face, and Jack hated the man's pity.

But he needed desperately to forget.

So help me god if the bastard's cut me off, thought Jack.

He opened the door to the bar and set a cloth wrapped bundle in the corner by the door. Enough to satisfy the weapons policy. Gods knew he had no home of his own to store his possessions.

Under the splotchy grey-green helmet of the Arkoan Legionares, Hawthorne raised an eyebrow. He'd walked in just in time to see a minstrels' challenge. Perhaps the entertainment would be enough of a distraction and he could horde his pennies another day--another distraction.

Hawthorne plodded dripping to the bar and dropped onto a stool with a soft creak. He turned towards the bartender.

"Eh Nate, bit of a crowd in here tonight. What's the occasion?" asked Hawthorne, as he plunked a copper on the table. "Some ale and the latest gossip, tell me there's a bounty or something posted..."

[Ajadea]

The bartender, Nate, is tall and round, with a rather unfortunate mustache. There is a seat empty for Jack near the wall, even in this crowd. "The occasion? Her, I suppose," he says, jerking a thumb towards the fireplace where the two minstrels face off. "Been here all day, playin' her songs. Nice songs, really. Don't know why she's been here of all places. And this blasted weather, I suppose. Travelers want out of the rain." He pours a mug of ale for Jack and passes it across the bar. "Don't have any bounties today, I'm afraid. Missus Raney's been complaining about foxes in her henhouse again. Isn't much of a surprise, what with the state of her fence." He snorts. "If you could even call it that much. Rotten old miser. Swears she seals it up tighter than the king's own treasury, but I'd be shocked if she even remembered to close up the gates at night."

The halfling weighs the coin pouch expertly in his hand. His eyes bug out, and he says something that sounds almost like the human tongue, if it were not completely incomprehensible to your ears.

"An unfair wager," the harpist replies. Even when just speaking, her voice is musical and slightly accented. She sets down her harp, then pulls a necklace out from under her dress. Closer inspection reveals it to be a large ruby pendant, cut into a faceted tear-drop, dangling from a thin silver chain. It seems to shine with an inner light of its own. She takes it off and hands it to the halfling. If his mouth opened much wider, his jaw would be touching the floor. "Your purse, and your honor, against this gem, and mine. One song, yes? You may begin."

There are definitely people staring now.

[DoctorGlock]

Jack grimaced. No bounties meant no work next to his trapping which subsequently meant either spending another winter camping out in the cold or dipping into the last of his military pay. Not that he wouldn't do it, he'd already set up a fairly cozy encampment by the lake, certainly better than the trenches he slept in during the war. It's just that the war was over, and he'd been expecting better...

"Hell, Nate, I reckon it might be time to get out of here, you know, maybe find work in one of the big cities. So help me god, maybe enlist again."

He said it virtually every week as winter closed in and work became scarce. It never happened. Every time he remembered military life... no, anything but that, thought Hawthorne.

"So, who are the singers anyway?"

[Tychris1]

Jonathan let out a mental sigh of relief, his hot air deflating a bit as he noticed the new found prize he could earn. His eyes focussed on the gem, entranced by the sight of it, and promptly began to fill with energy. The energy began to turn into nervousness as he realized he would have to start the show. His previous burst of creativity wore off, the flicking shadows from flames providing no more musical inspiration for that night. His eyes began to scan the tavern as he sought something to bounce off of

"Alright then, seems fair enough...."

Dammit he needed something! He couldn't just stand here like a buffoon again, he needed something to jog his mind and craft a song. And thats when he spotted Jack, a grizzled looking man who looked as if he could handle himself. The gears within Jonathan's head began turning, and he raised his Fiddle to his chin, resting the bow against the strings. He kept his eyes trained on Jack for most of the ballad, only taking his eyes away to look at the harpist, and heavily imply she was the Alinor Red in the song.


"To the town of Alinor rode a stranger one fine day.
Hardly spoke to folks around him, didn't have too much to say.
No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip.
The stranger there among them had a big iron on his hip.
Big Iron on his hip.

It was early in the morning when he rode into the town.
He came riding from the southside, slowly looking all around.
"He's an outlaw loose and running" came a whisper from each lip.
"And he's here to do some business with a big iron on his hip.
Big iron on his hip."

In this town there lived an outlaw by the name Alinor Red.
Many men had tried to take him and that many men were dead.
He was ruthless and a killer, though a youth at twenty four.
And the notches on his sword counted 1 and 19 more.
One and nineteen more.

Now the stranger started talking, made it plain to folks around.
Was a Holy Paladin, wouldn't be too long in town.
He was here to take an outlaw back alive or maybe dead.
And he said it didn't matter, he was after Alinor Red
After Alinor Red.

Wasn't long before the story was relayed to Alinor Red.
But the outlaw wasn't worried men who tried before were dead.
20 men had tried to take him, 20 men had made a slip.
21 would be the Paladin with a big iron on his hip.
Big iron on his hip.

Now the morning passed so quickly it was time for them to meet.
It was twenty past eleven when they strode out in the street.
Folks were watching from each window
Everybody held their breathe.
They knew this handsome stranger was about to meet his death.
About to meet his death.

There was 20 feet between them when they stopped to make their play.
And the swiftness of the Paladin is still talked about today.
Alinor Red had not cleared leather when a longsword clearly ripped.
And the Paladins aim was deadly with a big iron on his hip.
Big iron on his hip.

It was over in a moment and everybody gathered round.
There before them laid the body of the outlaw on the ground.
Oh, he might have went on living but he made one fatal slip.
When he tried to match the Paladin with a big iron on his hip.
Big iron on his hip.

Big iron, big iron.
Oh he tried to match the Paladin with the big iron on his hip.
Big iron on his hip."

Perform:[roll0]
Please don't Nat 1 please don't Nat 1

[Ajadea]

Nate shakes his head. Respectful of the competition taking place, he replies in an undertone. "The harp lady, Danica of the East. Halfling calls himself Nug, but if that's his real name, I'll eat my hat. Without salt. The boy showed up a bit ago. Not sure what he's up to. Didn't know he played fiddle."

The woman smiles sweetly, picks up her harp, closes her eyes, and begins to sing (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7LzkETsGvBM). She holds her little harp with the same reverence as a parent holding a newborn babe and sings in a strange language. Her fingers fly over the strings, finding every note without fail. By the end of the first verse, half the tavern is staring. The last words of the patrons die away halfway through the song. She adds a flourish, a staccato tap of the feet for percussion. By the time she finishes, the entire tavern is so enthralled by her performance that it seems almost entirely possible the town could be burning down around your ears and no one would have even so much as blinked.

She sets down the harp and opens her eyes.

It takes a few seconds for the silence to change into raucous applause.

She stands gracefully, and bows.

The halfling whips out a suddenly empty hat for donations.

Even the motley and aging group in the corner, so far absorbed in their own little world, pause. When the halfling approaches them, the elf smiles and passes him what looks like a vial filled with golden fluid.


She is smirking triumphantly. She knew she would win the moment you started playing. The smug look in her eyes makes it clear she wants to make absolutely sure you realize how inferior you are compared to her. Many things this woman might be, but nice is not on the list.

[Kymme]

William doesn't clap. His hands shake in excitement and he clasps them together to cease their motion. Even after the harpist sets down her instrument and turns to glare at the fiddler, his eyes remain glued to her. The nomad's lips curl into a wistful smile. So that is why the spirits cry, he thinks. They too have heard this music.

Then her name hits him like a hammer. Danica of the East. The East. Her accent, the language she speaks when she sings. They were not his, but the similarities were obvious. Nox had whispered of the muses, the legendary performers scattered across the world. Perhaps this lady is one of them. Will turns to the artist beside him and his words seem to line up as he speaks them; the stutter has vanished.

"Christopher, I thank you for your company. I must go." The nomad stands, stepping up beside the harpist and the fiddler. His eyes are wide with curiosity and he is oblivious to their shared glare. "May I ask you a question, Lady-who-awes-the-clouds?"

[jamieth]

Meilin slowly rises from her seat, still partially entranced by the song. This isn't right... this is just a small town in the middle of nothing... such music should be played to for the emperors, not the patron of some random inn...
But still. Approaching the minstrel who just got so badly humiliated she says softly, "You weren't bad at all, actually - but anger is a poor aid in music. Here, dring this, it hepls to calm the soul..." she hands him a fresh cup of tea with some special herbs, the one she was drinking herself - her country's traditional recipe. "Let me treat you tonight - I know how hard can it be for an artist to lose everything... empty stomach doesn't give birth to music, poor boy"

[Tychris1]

The world rushed by.

But Jonathan merely stood where he was.

Lost in that one moment.

That one smirk.

All the hellfire in the Nine Hells, every Demon's spit and bile, culminated together in a single festooning boil could not possibley equal what he felt at the moment.

And it wouldn't leave him. All it ever did was play over and over and over again in his head. He didn't say anything, he didn't take his eyes off the harpist, and he certainly didn't show any emotion on his face. He merely looked through her, past everything infront of him, and into a dream world in which Jonathan danced inside a ring of fire. It burned, the ring of fire, as the flames crept on higher. And he merely bounced about, his body twisted like a Demons, laughing all the while. In reality, he sheathed his fiddle, gently putting the bow on the strap around his back, and ensuring it was safely locked in place.

With the same bored, passive look, he outstretched a hand, and magically conjured forth a guitar. He looked at the simple wooden guitar, his eyes glossing over it, his hands rubbing up and down the shaft of it. A small smile played on the corners of his lips, and he walked outside of the establishment into the damp weather.

And then he smashed the guitar against the ground. And then he did it again. And again. And again and again and again. The mangled corpse of the guitar was nothing but blood and splinters in his hand as Jonathan repeatedly bashed in the summoned instrument. Eventually its dying wails ebbed away, nothing left of its carcass to destroy, and Jonathan stood in the rain. And then he summoned two more guitars and repeated the process twice. All the while he roared and bellowed and cursed in Abyssal, eventually taking the last guitars handle, and chucking it to the sky.

Walking back into the inn, wet and miserable, Jonathan shoved his way back to Meilin. Taking the offered drink, he scarfed as much of it down as possible, wiped his hand over his face to clear off some of the rain.

"I appreciate your hospitality. Though I didn't lose.... Everything."

He grumbled, trying to hold onto whatever shred of dignity he still had. Pulling out the ten gold pieces he idly counted them in his hand, and sighed.

[DoctorGlock]

Hawthorne mused for a moment before reaching a decision.

Must be gambling's in the air tonight, got virtually nothing left to lose and might be much to gain here, thought James.

He popped a couple more of his precious pennies on the table for the bartender. "Send 'em each a drink, least I can do for some good music," he grunted.

With a creak of the stool and a clatter of his packs, Hawthorne got to his feet and approached Danica.

"Truly I've not heard anyone play like that in all my life," he told her. "But it does make me wonder, what brings so obviously talented a musician out to a one-horse town like Whitefall? I'd expect music like that at the tables of kings, not gracing the ears of stingy old Nate of old soldiers like myself."

Going to roll sense motive for this encounter, it might come in handy depending on the line of questioning.

[roll0]

well then, looks like these rolls are universal for the whole party

[Ajadea]

Danica nods courteously to William, picking up both her pendant and the bag of coin. "Certainly. Ask all the questions you wish. However, I cannot guarantee I have the answers you seek." She turns to Jack. "I prefer not to play for kings. They tend to get rather possessive, and the freedom of the road is something I value greatly. As for what I am doing in Whitefall...." She pauses, putting her necklace back on. "A friend of mine notified me of some interesting occurrences up north that are, one could say, relevant to my interests."


She's a nice lady.

[Lexin]

Argath stops before entering the tavern, he heard music from inside, quite nice even for local standards, and then a round of applause.
I suppose they appreciate it more than me. he thinks ... or I am simply too tired to appreciate anything at this point.
He shakes the water from his bare head, springing the water all around him. Fang, the huge black dog besides him, does the same just a short while later.
Then they both walk inside. A huge, muscular orc with back eyes and long black hair, huge tusks, which almost count as a weapon and a dispassionate expression. Clad mostly in leather and carrying a pile of weapons. After him walks a beast of a dog, completely black with scars covering his body.

Argath takes a minute to assess the situation, check if there is anyone openly hostile... or terrified.

After that he turns to the bar, and walks slowly, not caring too much if there is someone in his way.
"Food and Ale." he says only, but in a booming voice. He takes out few coins, to show the bartender. It saved him the trouble of beating people up, just so he could eat in peace, on previous occasions. Couldn't hurt now.

[DoctorGlock]

"How interesting do you mean?" asked Jack with a raised eyebrow.

[Qwertystop]

Wandering over to Jonathan and Meilin:
"Yes, that's how to think of it! You still have... um."

A square draws itself in the air, and a list writes and checks itself off as Chris talks through it:

"Your violin, and whatever magic that was that got you that guitar, and you can still perform pretty well, if not as well as her, and... Do you have any money left?"

The last box leaves itself expectantly blank.

"I'm Christopher, by the way."

[Ajadea]

The bartender, and several others, do a double-take at the massive orc that walks in. One could surmise that they do not see orcs often, and even less that politely walk into taverns. No one raises a comment about the dog.

The bartender takes the coin and quickly serves him a bowl of pea soup with a hunk of bread and a mug of cold ale. He doesn't try to make small talk, instead busying himself with the others at the bar.

A cold smile stretches across Danica's face. "I suppose it would depend greatly on what interests you." She picks at the strings of the coin pouch in her lap.

Several more people stare as Christopher begins do draw in the air with nothing at all. The tattooed elf gets up and takes a seat at their table without further preamble. "It just goes to show no matter how many new things you see, there's always something new," he says in a light tone. "Where, if I may ask, did you learn to do that?"

[DoctorGlock]

"At this point? Gold. I reckon I got less than the bloke you just beat and I don't wan't him moving in with me," Jack said.

[Tychris1]

Jonathan considers what Christopher says, going it over in his head. He still had his magic, his skill, and his fiddle! All she took was a small sum of money, a minor setback for this Virtuoso. Yeah! Who cared if she wom, he still had his pride and skill! Not to mention a shred of decency she couldn't claim to have. Jonathan began to smile, holding out his hand with 10 gold pieces in it.

"About 10 Gold pieces to my name. My names Jonathan by the way, and you know Chris, you're right! I do still have all of those things, so it's not so bad. I like the way you think,"

The smile continued to dance and skip across his face, bouncing along as Jonathan roped an arm around Christopher.

"You know you two are alright. And in honor of the ten gold pieces I still have, I'm going to celebrate it the way I do with all my friends. By getting smashed into next week. Stay here, I'll be back. DRINKS ON ME!"

And with that Jonathan disattached himself from Chris, and began to shove his way to the bartender, tightly gripping his ten gold and demanding all the booze he could afford.

[Kymme]

Will grins sheepishly, milling over his next few words. "I am a traveler, you see," he says quietly, "and I am l-looking for a man who... who was something of a legend in the east. An explorer from Alnarion known as William. William Peregrine. Have you h-heard of him?"

[Qwertystop]

Chris, in a slight panic, calls after Jonathan:
"No! I didn't mean..."

But finding himself too late, he mutters "Ugh, that backfired a bit... didn't mean him to spend all he had left..."[/COLOR]

Then, to the elf:
"Never really did, I worked it out myself. Dropped a few rocks on my foot figuring it out, too. I was going to offer to make an instrument for the winner of that bet, but..." – he pauses to discard what he was about to say – "it'd take quite a while, if it was going to last more than a second after I gave it to them."

[jamieth]

"Well", Meilin said with a sigh, "At least you still have your violin, your magic and your talent... and at least the last two won't be as easy to lose... I hope", she added. That man, Jonathan's, skills at getting in trouble were probably even more impressive than his skills in music. People like that... Meilin could relate to them, somehow.

[Ajadea]

Danica nods at Jack. "Then it seems we may be able to talk business."

William's question seems to shake her even temper. Her eyes grow wide, and she speaks slowly, stopping and starting. "Alnarion? I hail from Alnarion myself. Peregrine... yes, I knew of him. Not well, I am afraid. He seemed a good man. I - I did not realize that he was dead." She blinks, rapidly, and looks away.

The bartender looks shocked when Jonathan slams down the ten gold coins. He takes one and gives the drunk fiddler a ceramic flagon filled to the brim with cool mead along with four pewter cups. "Don't go drinking all that away at once, boy," he says with a shake of his head.

The elf seems to accept Christopher's explanation. "That's fascinating. So, you can craft anything like this? Or do you only do musical instruments for poor drunkards?"

The door slams open again, letting in a blast of cold air. A figure stumbles in, limping heavily. A thick grey cloak with an enormous hood hides its face from view, and leather gloves hide its hands. Wordlessly, it looks around for a second, then collapses into the nearest empty chair. Its head falls onto the table. Water drips down from its cloak and puddles on the floor.

The door swings shut.

At the bar, Nate shakes his head. "This is just going to be one of those days, ain't it."

[Qwertystop]

"Just about, yes. Of course, if I want it to persist after I've let go, it'll take as long to make as it would to do it right, and I need to use actual paints, not this magic stuff."

So saying, he crumples the list in his hand (new lines forming to make the creases) and tosses it away, but it dissolves before it hits the floor.

Not that anyone's watching, as the new arrival shows up.

"Good style for entrances, that fellow. Twenty to one he's got bigger problems than the wet."

[Kymme]

William's awkward smile vanishes as he listens to Danica. "Oh. It seems that I am a bearer of bad news. I-I apologize. Do... do you know of past whereabouts? He was my--"

He is cut short by the cloaked man's sudden entrance. "By Nox... I must go. Thank you, Lady Danica. We must speak again, when this is over."

Will crosses the room in the blink of an eye, crouching beside the newcomer. "Are you injured, Sir? What has happened to you?"

[Tychris1]

With a wry smile Jonathan takes the flagon and cups before saying

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

And with that he turned back to Christopher, and shoved his way to his two newly acquired friends. Placing the flagon down on a nearby table, he begins to pour out the mead into the pewter cups, handing one to Christopher and Meilin, and keeping two for himself. Raising one of the cups, he makes a toast.

"Here's to what I still have, and to new friends! Cheers."

And with that he begins to chug down the mead with a newly found fervor.

[Ajadea]

The elf shakes his head at Christopher. "Strange man wearing a dark cloak and a limp? Pah!" he scoffs. "I'm not addled enough to take that bet. Not yet anyway." From one of the pockets in his wrinkled black clothing, the elf retrieves a deck of playing cards, which he begins to expertly shuffle without really looking.

Danica nods, though she's not looking at William anymore. The harpist's attention seems to be entirely focused on the new arrival. Her lips are pressed tightly together, and her eyes are narrowed. The halfling's hand is at his hip, as if reaching for an invisible dagger.

The cloaked figure groans slightly, and does not lift its head from the table. "Leg. Slashed up... a bit.... Don't matter. I was... nnhh.... got lucky." it groans in a gravelly voice. The definition of lucky seems to be a bit in error. Even a cursory glance would notice that the water pooling around the cloaked figure's boots is slowly taking on a definite red tinge.

[Kymme]

William narrows his eyes. He leans in closer and examines the newcomer's leg more closely. One hand darts to his scaled belt, brushing over it with two fingers. "This is not 'a bit'." Will isn't harsh, merely concerned. "Who has done this to you?"

Rolling a Heal Check to identify what caused his injuries, and how serious they are.

[roll0]

[Ajadea]

"nggh...." the cloaked person groans as Will ducks beneath the table and begins to examine their wounds. "Wanted... to stop.... us... but truth.... nnhhh... truth finds a way." The gravely voice scarcely rises above a whisper. Now that someone is seeing to the needs of the new arrival, all around, people seem to have gone back to their own personal business. Danica abruptly stands, picking up her lap-harp, and departs up the stairs followed closely by the halfling.

Will

It's a miracle this person even got as far as they did. You have to pick out bits of all-too-red cloth from the wound to get a better look at it. It looks like someone tried to cut this person's leg off, and certainly got a few good cuts in. The edges are clean. This wasn't some random animal attack. This was done by a blade.

Their skin, in the few places it isn't stained bright blood-red, is rather yellowy-green, making this fellow either an orc or a goblinoid beneath that all-encompassing hood.

[Kymme]

"By Nox..." Will closes his eyes for a brief moment, tapping into the healing auras of his belt. He plucks some of the energy with his fingertips and presses it into the man's wound.

"This will stop the bleeding. But who could do..." William casts a glance at the inn's closed door. "Were you followed?"

Spending a Healing Belt charge (2/3 remaining): [roll0]
Checks to see if anyone is coming:
Listen [roll1]
Spot [roll2]

[Qwertystop]

"Looks like a bit more than a limp..."

"Well, Will seems to have it under control. What're your stories? Or your names, at least?"

[jamieth]

"Me? I'm Meilin - don't really have much of a story... not one I want to tell at least, but now I just wander the land, dance for those who are willing to watch... and pay... or I did, till the fall - much as I love the road, winter really makes me much more of an inside person, you know?"

[Tychris1]

Upon finishing his first cup, Jonathan began to plow his way through the second. His eyes growing wide, his smile stretching, and his eyebrows raising. Slamming the empty cup down he focussed his crooked grin on Chris and began to answer his question.

"My.... My-m-My name! My name is......... What's my name?.... Jon! My names Jon!...... Athan..... Jonathan! Yes....y-yes... I came from a..... Place... Far away. Called, uh......."

He pauses, trying to remember his homeland. Scratching his beard, he looked into the bottom of his cup as if he'd find the answer there. Turning to Meilin he asked.

"Do you know where I came from?...... Alinor! Right. I came from Alinor! Riiiiiight........ So! So so so so so. Alinor! Nice place. Anyway, I had a.... Girlfriend. Great great grrrreat girl. Beautiful girl. Just....... Just great. She had these nice, round............ Anyway, she played the harp, better then that tramp I can guarantee yes I can yes sir yup yup yup. And the flute, the drums, the fiddle, sung, and other...... things. And her hair, oh, her hair. Anyway, she taught me how to play that thingy. With the strings. And then there was a blah with a blah and scandal, blooh blah blah daddy, guards, hippity hooplah inquiwhosiwhats."

Jonathan stumbled around for a bit, trying to grab at his back, before finally grabbing his Fiddle. Placing a foot on a nearby table, he clumsily placed his chin on the chin guard, and raised his bow hand to the sky.

"T-This is for y-you, Jessy!"

"Oh you gonna take me home tonight
Oh down beside that red fire light
Oh you gonna let it all hang out
Fat bottom girl you make my rocking world go round
Hey I was just a skinny lad
Never knew no good from bad
But I knew love before I left my nursery
Met myself a big fat Fanny
She was such a naughty nanny
Heap big woman, you made a bad boy out of me
Hey hey! Woh wohwoh oh shi-!"
Drunken Perform check:[roll0]

Losing his balance, Jomathan waved his arms about with frantic speed , flailing wildly as he fell off the table and smashed into the ground below. Groaning, his eyes rolled about before shutting, his left hand clutching his fiddle against his chest, and his right fist thrusted into the air.

"Thank you, yah been a great crowd, g'night. Grufadhdbkllkleiessssh"

Rambling off in a drunken stupor, drifting into a hazy sleep.

[Ajadea]

The healing energies seal the wound, and the cloaked figure raises their head slightly off the table. "Mmmnh.... you're a good lad. Thank... thank you. No one followed. If they had, I'd be dead in a ditch somewhere." The great hooded head slowly lowers back onto the table. "Imagine they got what they wanted. Thought I'd take care of myself.... between the wounds and the cold...." The figure chuckles darkly. The forced laugh quickly turns into a hacking cough.

Oddly, the crowd seems to find Jonathan's thoroughly drunken performance considerably more engaging than the ones he tried before. A few people even sing along before Jonathan collapses into a drunken stupor. It appears that a good dirty drinking song appeals better than a passionately angry violin solo to a bar full of people with a little too much alcohol in their veins. Or at least, incoherent drunks are amusing.

Even the tattooed elf snorts at the performance, smiling in a wry sort of way. "Makes a better maudlin drunk than an angry one, doesn't he?" He shakes his head and reaches over to the other table, retrieving his mug of what looks like dark ale. "My name is Saren el Myanda. I... solve problems for people. You could call me a mercenary, I suppose, though there's more to it than that. Those are my old comrades in arms over there." He waves over at the table in the corner, where the old man with the sword and the balding dwarf have begun arm-wrestling. The intricate golden band on his finger catches the light. "We try to meet up once every few years. They pick a tavern to get incredibly drunk at, I drag them back to their respective abodes after they pass out, and a lucky barkeep gets considerably richer for his troubles. Everybody's happy."

[Qwertystop]

Ah. If you don't mind my asking, Meilin, is there something more to it? I mean, my first answer would be "artist," but..."

He waves his finger absently, and a line trails away, lingering for a moment before vanishing - a visual ellipsis.

"Somehow, with all that's been happening tonight, it doesn't feel like anything's quite that simple."

He turns quickly.

"And you, Saren el Myanda, are... an adventurer? I've been trying to set out on that path myself. Any tips for a novice, beyond 'you should probably check with that mysterious wounded old man who turned up, barely conscious, in the middle of a rainstorm and collapsed'?"

[Ajadea]

Saren nods. "You could call it that as well, though I don't do a whole lot of adventuring these days in the strictest sense of the word. More often than not, people come to me." He laces his fingers together and stares at them intently. "Just starting out, huh? You'll be wanting rope, a source of fire, an extra dagger or three, and some flexibility in your moral code. If you can't manage that much, you're going to have problems. Don't ask too many questions about where your coin's coming from. The sorts of people who hire ragtag mercenary bands to solve their problems don't mind leaving a few bodies behind. If you won't do it they'll just find someone even more desperate, and you'll be out in the cold. If you're lucky."

He takes a long drink of his ale and sets the mug down with slightly more force than is entirely necessary. "Get some good boots too. You're going to be needing them."

[Kymme]

"You are still injured. Though I doubt that my meager abilities can heal you any further." Will sits down opposite the newcomer and peers close at him.

"What is your name?"

[jamieth]

"Something more? Well, I'm not sure... I mean, honestly speaking, it was only about... what, half a year since I went off on my own... so, there wasn't much of 'something more' yet. I won't deny it feels a little lonely sometimes, though..." Meilin smiled gently.

[Qwertystop]

"Okay: rope, torch, knives."

A long, looping line; a dash that turns out to be a tindertwig; some quick triangles. Each vanishes quickly.

"And a pragmatic moral code?" Alright then."

Then, to Meilin:

"Well, that's a relief. The way the past half-hour's been going, I was starting to think everyone here was strange. I mean, we've got that guy Will, with purple eyes, a bunch of mercenaries, a harpist who's far too skilled to be playing in a little place like this, my... art, the Mysterious Wounded Stranger, and this drunken magician/musician - and that's everyone I've talked to but the barman and you. Good to see that not everyone is someone out-of-the-ordinary."

"No offense meant, Saren."

[DoctorGlock]

Jack grimaced. Well there goes a possible meal ticket. Eh, not over yet, we'll talk business when she shows her face again, he thought.

Jack got to his feet and headed towards the new arrival. As he got closer, the smell of blood hit him and he stopped dead in his tracks. The stink of it brought back too many memories. He grimaced again and stepped forward, even as the sounds of screaming began to fill his ears

"This could be merc-work", he muttered, "soldier up and deal."

Jack sits down next to Will. "We could have used a man like you back in the war," he rasped. His knuckled have gone white as he grips his mug with a crushing force and throws down some drink. "Reckon more of us would have made it out of Weitun.

"Seven hells happen to you?" he asked the blood-soaked newcomer. "Thought the roads were quiet this time of year?"

Rolling survival to see if I can help with the man's wounds in any way.

[roll0]

[Kymme]

Will's eyes widen when Jack takes the seat beside him. His eyes widen even further as Jack goes on. "Like me? You must be mistaken - I am no healer. Merely a traveler with... a-a belt."

Casting gaze away from the face of his disheveled and possibly inebriated companion, William glances out the window at the pouring rain. That woman, Danica, knew of him. Hopefully she'll return in the morning. There must be more to this. There has to be.

[Ajadea]

"Funny thing about that... so did I. Least, until those little bastards jumped up outta nowhere and tried to gut me," the cloaked person growls. The voice is a bit muffled by the table. "Names've power to 'em. Best not when there are ears about.... 'specially when they might be the wrong ears." A gloved hand reaches around and lifts up the edge of the hood. You can see the glint of a beady eye from underneath. "You feel like helping an old man out?"

Saren swirls the drink in his mug around. "One mercenary. The rest over there are retired. Time goes like that among you lot, I'm afraid..." He sighs, then rubs his face with a hand. "You didn't hear it from me, boy, but I sincerely doubt that this is just one massive coincidence. If I were in your shoes, I'd get out of here fast and not look back, weather be damned."

[Qwertystop]

"Well, I'll never get anywhere without taking a few risks," he says, as he gets up to talk to the Mysterious Wounded Stranger and Mysterious Pretty Much Intact Veteran (and Will). After a short pause, he grins:

"After all, what's the worst that could happen?"

[DoctorGlock]

Jack grunted. "Ok, a quartermaster then, certainly better than whoever we had"

He once more addressed the newcomer. "Tell me more about the little bastards, specifically how profitable exterminating them might be," he added with a grin that did not touch his eyes.

[Ajadea]

"The worst? The gods could hear you ask that question."

The mysteriously wounded stranger doesn't seem to react to Christopher's approach. "Not them that matters so much... it's what they have. A box, about so big." He outlines a shape in the air, roughly the size of a loaf of bread. "I want it back. I was attacked just north of town. Follow the road, you'll see where fast enough. Four hundred crowns for the box, returned safe and unopened. It's sealed up good, so I'll know if you or anyone else took a crack at it. If it's opened, you get nothing, got it? I'll make it five if you're back by this time tomorrow, six if you can find me a fast horse as well."

[Lexin]

Argath, who was just finishing his meal, noticed the injured man walking inside. He didn't took interest in the situation, he was much more inclined to injure someone than to heal.
... but now he was talking about money, one of the very useful things for every traveler and the best friend of mercenary... or so he was told.

He stands up and slowly walks closer the the newcomer, he sits at the same table.
"The offer stands for everyone interested?" he asks, quietly, but audibly. One of his many skills, developed not to spook to many people... and especially potential employers.

[Qwertystop]

"Likely best if we worked together on this, I'd think," Chris says to the other three.

"I would assume they're dangerous, and likely fleeing? Did you manage to hamper them at all, beyond that they now have a little extra weight to carry?"

[Ajadea]

"More of you?" the cloaked person growls from under his hood. "The gold is total, not for each. I don't have that kind of coin on me. Split it however you want. You can keep whatever they have, except the box. Use it, sell it, burn it, I do not care. It is of no concern to me." He pushes himself up, spine cracking audibly. The enormous hood falls over his face, obscuring it completely in soggy grey cloth and shadow.

He nods slowly at Chris's questions. "Dangerous? Mmmh. Yes, I think so. As for weakening them... well, you'll see for yourself when you go find them. It should be a manageable task, certainly. I hope you weren't planning on a good night's sleep."

[Kymme]

Will's eyes widen and his muscles tense as more people begin to gather around. He pulls his robes over himself reflexively and crouches low in his seat, as if trying to disappear from sight. Eventually he finds his voice.

"I... I do not need much in the way of coin, but I am willing to aid you all in this endeavor." The traveler's indigo eyes lit up as they rotated back to the cloaked man. "But these creatures have attacked you and stolen something of yours. For that they must pay."

[Ajadea]

The cloaked man grunts. "Good. Then get going whenever you're ready. Don't take too long." He folds his arms across his chest and says no more.

[Lexin]

"Good." that's the only thing Argath says to his new employer. He turns to others who said they would like to help with this task.
"I am going now, you are free to join." he says He calls his dog to him, and decides to wait by the doors for a short moment looking expectantly at the others.

[Tychris1]

Jonathan begins to, with great annoyance and a groggy demeanor, push himself off of the ground. His blurred vision swishes back and forth, his head tilting awkwardly as he processed the world around him. Holding his head still with his hand, he began to grumble.

"What uh..... What.... What the hell happened?...."

His eyes began to mould the blurry outlines of the people in the bar, trying to discern where his friend went.

"Ugh.... Hey Chris.... Buddy old pal?.... Where'd yah go?"

Flipping over to his chest, he began to push himself to his knees, wobbling frequently, only to slump back to the ground. His eyes rolling about, he began the process of picking himself up again, only to slip once more. Gritting his teeth, he finally had the foresight to use his legs and hold himself steady. New vantage point in hand, he recognized Chris' form in the now suddenly dimmer lighting.

"Hey.... Hey-hey listen. Hey... Hey-hey listen, Meilin. Come here, my legs aren't doing the thing they do. Be my.... You know.... Legs."
With or without Meilin's assistance he will stumble his way over to where Chris is, shakily putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Heeeeeeeeeey bu-*burp*-uddy! What's going oooooooon. I smell excitement, and my nose is n-never wrong! I got the nose of a... Of a jellyfish! No... Wait jellyfish don't have noses..... Well I have a good nose!"

He stammers out, his body rocking back and forth in the process.

[Kymme]

"A wolf." Will's eyes track Argath as he leaves, flashing with an almost crimson light before settling back to their calm purple.

"We should go. Now." He sets off, striding out into the evening rain.

[Qwertystop]

"Agreed."

As he walks out, he pulls a blob of ink through his other hand as though drawing wire. The end result is a sort of canopy-on-a-stick, and Christopher follows in comparative dryness.

[Tychris1]

Jonathan raises an eyebrow as Chris ignores him. His face grows beet red, indignation building up inside of him. He began to lurch forward, stumbling about as he moved his way to the entrance of the tavern, and walked out into the pouring rain.

"Why I never..... Raggle fraggle..... Stupid elf..... Ditching me.......I'll show him!"

He looks about, wiping his eyes periodically as he looks for his mule and eventually finds it. Having pierced the alcoholic fog, Jonathan grabs ahold of the Mules reigns and began to tug it along, and searches his bag for his chain shirt. Awkwardly jostling about he eventually slid it over his head, mounting his mule awkwardly in the process, and urging it forward to keep up with Chris. Wet, drunk, and irritable Jonathan follows in suit, using his backpack/body as shelter to keep his fiddle nice and dry.

[Lexin]

Argath rises an eyebrow when some drunk rushes to join the group... but then just sighs and says.
"Let's go then."
... and starts walking north, hoping to find the spot where his new employer was attacked.

[jamieth]

Meilin sighed, sipping her tea. Just now, a man she never saw before today dids something very stupid, than got completely drunk, and then went away to do something even more stupid. And nothing of it should have concerned her, come to think of it - nor was she in debt to him, or something - in fact, it was he who was in debt to her, even if only for a mere cup of tea - but that debt she would gladly forgive... so, no matter how you think of it, there was no reason for them to ever meet again. But then, why couldn't she just forget? It must be his music... Unpolished, but... so vivid and sincere... Yes, that is what it is. I want to dance to his tune... so I have to talk him out of this ridiculous expedition.
Sighing again, she went to her room to grab a cloak to put over her kimono and a paper umbrella which, despite its seeming frailty, was actually very reliable due to being treated with the juice of the Hwanjing tree.
Hopefully they couldn't get far ahead. Jonathan wasn't in the condition to move fast, anyway.

[Tychris1]

Jonathan, still grumbling along in the rain, droops his head a little as his right hand clutches the reins of his mule roughly. An awkward balancing act ensues in which he attempts to lean against random gear he has his mule hold, while also trying to keep them from falling off. Trodding along behind Chris, he finally reaches a nice balance. Satisfied, he begins to relax and focus on the road, only to be shocked by Meilin's following him. Raising an eyebrow, he begins to wobble, desperately trying to stop himself from tipping over from one side. His battle is sadly uphill, and he only manages to stop himself from completely dismounting. His legs slide, causing him to lean heavily on the left side of the horse.

"Oh, heyya Meilin..... What'yah..... What'yah doing out here?"

He paused for a moment, trying to remember what exactly it is that he had forgotten. Patting his pockets, he felt the slight jingle of coin. A candle lit in his brain, illuminating his situation as he reached into his pocket.

"Oh, right, I probably owe you for that drink, well, hold on."

He begins the process of untangling himself, failing miserably in the process, and jerks a chord wrong instead. His whole body tumbles to the ground as his mule trudges forward, unperturbed by its masters sudden fall. Barely cleaning himself off, he pushed himself up, coins in hand, and offered it to Meilin.

"Thanks for the drink..... It's uh.... It's been a while.... since I've spent time with someone. Think I needed that..... So I think I owe you for that too. It ain't much, but hey.... It's all I got left."

And with that he held out his 9 gold pieces, shaking his hand slightly to encourage Meilin to take it.

"It's funny, in one day.... I went from having money, to being broke! Worlds funny that way..... Oh, don't worry about me being broke. I've got a thingy lined up. Details are.... what's the word... hazy. Hazy at best, but that's the way I like it. I should be back on my feet by the uh.... the end of it. You've been nice enough already."

[Kymme]

Will sighs into the rain. The droplets bound off his hair and run down his chest. His woolen robe is soaked and hangs heavily from his shoulders, but he doesn't mind the weight. Out here, beneath a cloudy sky and the swirling night breezes, he doesn't really mind anything. A flash of lightning on the distant horizon catches his eye. The bolt sparks for a brief second, brilliant and white like a jagged ray of sunlight. It seems the spirits of the West have a fury of their own, he thinks, a faint smile on his lips.

He is stirred from his private nirvana by the sound of a body hitting the wet flagstones behind him. Will glances over his shoulder, surprised to see the fiddle player and the dancer from the tavern. The dancer seemed untouched by the rain beneath her umbrella, though the fiddler was wobbling unsteadily and soaked to the bone. Careful not to slip on the slick stones, William turns back and approaches them. "You two have taken up the hooded man's mission as well? I thank you for your help. I am William. What are your names?"

[jamieth]

"Don't be ridiculous", Meilin pushed the coins away, "I am not an Emperor, you know, to pay anywhere close to that for a cup of tea... and that was a treat, anyway. Or, if you don't like to be treated, consider it a tip for your song. But, anyway..." she turned to Will, "my name's Meilin, and, I'm afraid, the only reason I'm here is to force this man to turn back. Really, Jonathan, you are in no condition to travel, let alone fight, you have to admit it."

[Tychris1]

Jonathan's eyes burned as he looked at Meilin. No, that's not correct. As he looked into Meilin. His very soul was kindled, sparking madly as it set his heart aflame. His nose snorted slightly, his teeth grinding slowly, and his head twisting downward ever so carefully.

"No."

He said under his breathe

"No Meilin.... I'm not turning back. I'm not going to-to give in like that just because things don't look great. Look around! Things are never ideal. I walk out into the world.... And I risk death. I could be stabbed, sick, trapped, cursed, or a bunch of other things."

He pulls his head up slightly, tears welling up in his eyes and throat.

"I'm.... I'm.... I'm tired of running. I've ran away from too many things in my life, I've let too many things slip away. My home, my family, my love........... I can't keep turning away just because....... Because something doesn't look good. I'm tired of it."

Pocketing the coins away, he took the hand that formerly held his money, and placed it on Meilin's shoulder.

"I understand what you're saying...... And...... I appreciate it, more then you know, but I'm not going back...... If you want to h-help me, then help me walk steady on my way there."

[jamieth]

Meilin shook her head. You can't argue with a man when he's like that... maybe later. Not likely, but maybe. Meanwhile, though...
"Oh well, no other choice, then... I'll keep you company for a while. You know, I decided that someday you'll write a song for me", she stated matter-of-factly, "so I can't allow to die before that."

[Qwertystop]

Chris stifles a chuckle, then asks Meilin a question:
"Um. Not to pry, but... this will probably be dangerous. When I asked before, you just said you were a dancer. Are you any good in a fight?"

[jamieth]

"Well, maybe 'good' would be too strong a word..." Meilin smiles somewhat shyly, "but I had to deal with some unpleasant things before; even if I won't be of much help, I can take care of myself, at least. Don't underestimate a dancer's training", she smiles again, a bit more confidently.

[Ajadea]

The ragtag group heads north along the main road. The drizzle grows heavier as you travel, pattering against Christopher's painted parasol and soaking into the clothes of everyone else. The sky darkens from sunset pink to the cold blue-black of night. A thin sliver of moon is visible through the clouds, silver against the darkness.

It is not so hard to find the place the cloaked man described. A massive brown stallion lies dead on the road, stuck full of tiny bolts and riddled with spear-holes. It is surrounded by the corpses of tiny lizard-men, or at least pieces of the corpses. At least a dozen, most likely even more. They carried crossbows, spears, and daggers, armored themselves in scraps of cloth and strips of leather. The dirt is stained brownish-red with blood, so much that even the rain could not wash it all away.

[Tychris1]

Jonathan slept through most of the ride, using his Mule or Meilin as support for his tired body. It would come to no ones surprise that when the group stopped at the sight of the skirmish, Jonathan was thrown for quite a loop. His eyes opened in a flash, arms waving about as he tried to keep himself steady, and barely managed to stop himself from slipping. Half mumbled words escaped him as his hand raised itself to hold his head. Grabbing a hold of his shirt, he raised the fabric up to cover his mouth as he looked over the bloody scene.

"Well that's....... unpleasant......."

His hand slides over his head, rubbing his eyes as he strains them to focus on the scene before him, trying to look for any clue he can find.

Jonathan is going to take 20 on his Search check to spot anything.

[Kymme]

Will had been silent since his brief exchange with Meilin and John, walking a few paces behind and to the left of them, scanning the countryside through the blankets of rain. He always kept to himself when he didn't know what to say, and his current company left him at a loss for words. A painter who can conjure objects from thin air, two performers (one of which is incredibly drunk on west-man's water), a soldier with dark eyes that glint like daggers, a hulking bear of a man with a wolf as his pet, and... Will glances down at his hand, where a small mote of violet lightning danced. Me. He is careful to conceal Nox's gift from the people around him, and quickly closes his fist around the bolt as their destination comes into view.

Stepping forward, William keep his eyes on the countryside, looking for any reptilian forms that may still be lurking nearby.

Scanning:
Spot: [roll0]
Listen: [roll1]

[Qwertystop]

Christopher retches quite a bit on seeing the situation, then draws up a pair of opera glasses and a small book of sketches of assorted reptilian footprints (the umbrella vanishes). He then proceeds to peer about the surroundings for any trace of where the culprits might be.

That's a Masterwork Tool for Spot and one for Survival. Both get Augment Skill Bonus for their associated skill, so that's +2 Circumstance and +2 Competence.

Survival: [roll0], to find tracks.
Spot: [roll1]
Untrained Search: [roll2]

[Lexin]

Argath looks around the scene, focusing on the lizard people and their footprints.
"The rain doesn't make tracking them any easier..."
He looks at the blood and bodies without emotion, as if this scene wasn't anything unusual.

Survival (Track): [roll0]
+2 if it counts as natural environment.
+2 if Dog succeeds on Aid another check (DC 10) [roll1]

Argath has scent, which might help with tracking.
Other than that... Kn:Nature (?) to identify the Lizard-man [roll2]

[Ajadea]

The group disperses to look around at the gory mess. The pouring rain and encroaching darkness makes it difficult to see much of anything. It is unpleasant work, more so when it requires that you get close to one of the corpses.


Rummaging through the lizard-men's corpses reveals a fairly sizable sum - twenty-one golden crowns, somewhat battered, [roll0] silver pieces, and [roll1] copper bits, when all is accounted for. One of them wears a felt hat, decoratively pinned with what looks like beetles and feathers. His pockets reveal a thumb-sized vial of some viscous dark oil and a plain leather scroll case. It was once sealed with wax, but the seal has been broken. There is no trace of any box, big or small.

Any reptilians that survived must be long gone. You and the group seem to be the only living creatures nearby.

A glint of gold catches your eye, lying under the horse's corpse. It looks like some sort of badge.
Under the pouring rain, any tracks there might have been have been muddied beyond your ability to follow. There is no trace of any box - it seems that the culprits have indeed escaped with what they wanted.

A glint of gold catches your eye, lying under the horse's corpse. It looks like some sort of badge.

You're not sure what the lizard-men are. (Knowledge: Nature is not applicable to this situation)

Tracks are easier to identify than the creatures themselves. You see them leading off the road, to the west. Probably four or five creatures.

[Qwertystop]

Christopher drops the tools (*poof*), says, shakily, "I think there might be something under the horse," and goes to try to pull it out.

[Tychris1]

Jonathan begins to rapidly pocket away the bits of precious metal he accrues from scavenging amongst the Lizardmen. He even takes the black liquid and scroll case, just in case, and stores it on his mule. Except the money, that he keeps on his person. Still, he briefly examines the scroll case to see if there's anything unusual about it.

"Money money money! Loads of money."

He grins to himself as he finally stores it all away, finished with his examination, and stands up promptly. Stretching lightly he says in a bit of a bored tone.

"Considerin' the gold and silver on them, I have a feeling they might have been paid to do this. Maybe. Probably."

Jonathan's only affirmation for this statement is a shrug.

"Hmmmm....."

He began to stroke his chin, pulling on his facial hair in the process, and trying to remember what he can about Lizardmen in general.


Knowledge (Whatever, I doubt The Planes or Nobility so a flat knowledge check!):[roll0]

[Lexin]

Argath looks around barking few orders to his canine companion and turns to others, speaking in his booming voice "Four or five of them ran away. They went west from here, off the road. Good thing they didn't cover their tracks."

After that he walks closer to help Christopher in case he needs it. He doesn't say anything, just stands close to him, and waits to see if he is asked for help.

[Ajadea]

Christopher reaches under the horse, and is, with a little difficulty, able to retrieve the glittering object. At first glance, it appears to be nothing more than a gold crown, but a closer inspection shows that the design is quite different - not some lord's head, but half a sun disk set over an eight-pointed star.


Lizardmen appear to have scales!

[Qwertystop]

Untrained Knowledge: Religion [roll0]
Untrained Knowledge: Nobility and Royalty [roll1]
Untrained Knowledge: Local [roll2]
EDIT: Okay, so any DC 10 or below, I guess (all untrained).

Assuming the checks don't come up with anything (if they do I'll edit this to match):
Christopher draws the group's attention to the odd badge - "Well, this is an odd little trinket. Anyone know who or what it might represent?"

[Tychris1]

Armed with the vital, tactical knowledge regarding Lizardmen, Jonathan decides to focus his efforts elsewhere, and gives the golden trinket a glance, running through his head all the possible places he may have seen it.

Knowledge Nobility:[roll0]

[Ajadea]

You pass the strange coin around.


It's not a local design, nor the arms of any of the more well-known noble houses. No local gods are associated with a half-sun, nor an eight-pointed star. If it is a symbol of the gods, it is not one of the gods of the north.



A dim memory comes to your mind, a name on the tip of your tongue. The faded memory soon vanishes. You think it might be associated with some sort of old tale, but more than that is lost to your addled mind.

[Tychris1]

Looking at it long and hard, Jonathan tilts his head to the right slightly, and proceeds to plop his tongue out as he thinks very hard. His eyes focus intently, though after a few seconds he merely shrugs and gives up.

"Well, never seen or heard of anything like that before. Probably just some junk or useless crap trinket the Lizard folk left behind by accident."

Yanking his mule along with him, he begins to walk west, in the direction Argath indicated.

"Come on, we're burning daylight!"

[Qwertystop]

"What daylight?"
(but he follows)

[Kymme]

William falls in behind Jonathan, purple eyes piercing the gloom for any sign of threats.

"You must remember, Christopher," the nomad says with his typical lilt. "This man is unlike other men."

A faint smile creeps along Will's face as he walks, cupping his hands to catch some of the rainwater. He brings the water to his lips and takes a sip, letting the rest pour between his fingers. "Ambrosia, no? The nectar of the spirits is plentiful this night." He flashes a smile at the others before turning back to the countryside.

[Tychris1]

Jonathan pauses in his foot steps, looking back at Christopher, and then focussing his eyes back on the road in front of him.

"Wait a second......"

He looks up to the sky above him, staring at the moon that hangs over him.

"Hmmmmm............. Well, would you look at that."

Scratching the back of his head, he continues his steady pace, shrugging and offhandedly commenting.

"Well it's day time somewhere! Speaking of which it's also noon somewhere, urgh, I'm going to need another drink to keep track of all this time."

He holds out his hand to try and drink some of the rainwater, but after tasting it spits it out and drops the rest of it with a "Blech".

[Kymme]

Will smiles, stifling his laughter. "You may wish to pace yourself," he calls ahead. "Rain water is an... acquired taste."

[Lexin]

Argath, who quietly observed others talking, running around the place and such says only one word: "Finally." before following previously found footsteps. He leads others, making sure nobody (no matter how drunk) gets lost.
Having company wasn't that bad... even if they were behaving like the most inexperienced trackers from his tribe.

[Ajadea]

Argath leads you on away from the road. The lizard-men were clearly making no attempt to hide their trails, and it is no hassle to follow their tracks, even in the steadily pouring rain. Your boots squish along in the mud as you move, two hours walking with no end in sight. The sky gets no brighter, the rain no lighter. Grass slowly gives way to gravel and clay-like soil as the path leads you towards the mountains. The tracks get fainter and fainter, churned up into so much mud like the rest of the ground.


You see a light in the distance, about the right color to be a small fire.

[Tychris1]

Shuffling along, Jonathan rolls his right shoulder back, and looks about aimlessly. His eyes drooping, shoulders sagged, and face tired. Leaning against his mule, he almost felt like going to bed. It was so soft and warm anyway...... Raising his head to look at William, Jonathan began to question their current scenario.

"So what's the plan now, eh? I'm up for anything."

[Kymme]

William stops mid-stride when he spies the flickering yellow light. Raising a hand to halt the others, the nomad peers closer to the source of the flames.

"I believe we have reached our quarry. There." He points to the faint light in the distance. "I believe silence is key here. We do not know quite what we face." Will turns around, purple eyes alight with flecks of brilliant indigo. "I will scout them out. Those who are skilled with subtle arts may follow, if they wish."

With that the man begins to creep forward, glancing over his shoulder to check if anyone is coming along.

Making a Spot check: [roll0]

[Qwertystop]

Unspeaking, Christopher pours out a cloak of dark blue and follows.

Masterwork Hide and Move Silently tools (dark cloak and padded shoes) with Augment Skill Bonus

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

[Tychris1]

Jonathan decides to stay back, recognizing that he's never been good at mot being center stage and having all eyes on him. Eyeing his nails, he begins to slowly clean them before rocking back and forth. Leaning against his mule he glances up at his two compatriots sneaking off and shrugs.

"You enjoy yourselves."

[Ajadea]

William and Christopher sneak forward. Or at least try to. William's silhouette can occasionally be glimpsed against the skyline as his head goes a bit too high, and Christopher's feet, padded or no, squelch through the mud quite audibly.

Perhaps it should not be overly surprising that the lizard-men spot you first. They are tiny, scarcely more than two feet tall, with whip-like tails and spindly arms, and so thin you can see where their ribcages end. There are a full seven of the creatures, huddled under a rocky outcropping that just barely shelters them from the worst of the rain and reaching out to the little miserable fire in the center of their miserable camp. Each is clad in little more than scraps of patches, clutching metal-tipped spears half again as tall as they are. There is just enough time to catch sight of an ebony box set off to one side before the shrieking begins.
------
Roll initiative.

[Qwertystop]

On hearing the shrieks, Chris gives up on hiding and runs forward. Draw a crossbow, fire, and let it melt in the rain - a thick black line jets through the air toward the lizardmen.

Moving 20' towards the enemies.
Losing the cloak and slippers for a heavy crossbow with Augment Enhancement Bonus.
Attack: [roll0] crit on 19-20
Miss chance: [roll1] miss on 1 or 2
Damage: [roll2]

[Kymme]

Will explodes from cover, tramping across the wet earth in a dead on sprint. Purple lines of lightning cloud the air around him and he sets upon the first lizards he meets with thundering strikes.

Charging the nearest lizard dude (preferably not the one Chris just shot at.)

Swift action to expend 1 Ki Power (4/5)

Attack 1: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] plus [roll2] electricity

Attack 2: [roll3]
Damage: [roll4] plus [roll5] electricity

Aiming both attacks at different creatures, if possible. If the first attack misses, or there is no other creature within range, both attacks target the same kobold