The Divine Forge - IC (Ongoing Campaign)

[Sir Grave]

Prehysterical & Sir Grave presents...

The Divine Forge: Tome of the Forgotten

The evening sets in the city of New Cyre, and working hours are over for most. To most, except for the taverns and inns, which are live with activity form the commoners who drink in those places every night.

One inn and tavern, the Longbow, houses little activity from the commonfolk. This is a place for so-called adventurers: warriors, thieves and even wizards come to find new companions, undertake dangerous quests, and to pay ear to the latest rumor and gossip.

A lone figure approaches:Enter HALBERD. Large even among warforged, towering over others with his green adamantine armor. His emotionless, angular face appears to have no mouth, although that is only because it is clamped firmly shut. Light blue eyes gaze out at the world without pupils. A massive blade hangs on his back, slightly curved and with three spikes on the back edge.

(Enter Halberd)

As you approach, a hobgoblin gets thrown into the street at your feet, thrown by another one-eyed warforged, wearing an apron. The hobgoblin curses in his own dialect, getting up and brushing past you. "Gerathameway, yeh walkin' scrap heap!" He's obviously drunk, stumbling away.

The one eyed warforged simply stands at the doorway. "Thank you for your patronage!" He said, sarcastically. With that he looks at you. "Ah. A fellow veteran, here to find his place in life. Come on in, place is mostly empty." With that, he heads back on in.

[Prehysterical]

The "scrap heap" slur is enough to instill a desire to beat the hobgoblin's face in. Prior experience, however, has taught Halberd that Fleshlings are not held responsible when they consume the substance known as "alcohol". And it's not worth getting chased out of town. Again.

Nodding his acknowledgement to the barkeep, Halberd follows him inside. His eyes scan the bar patrons as he moves, keeping an eye out for potential troublemakers or spies. Taking a seat at the bar, as according to Fleshling custom, Halberd asks, "What's with the eye, soldier? Can't get repairs?" His voice has a tinny resonance to it, clearly not human, but it has not degraded to the emotionless monotone of those who embrace the Metal.

[Sir Grave]

"Call it sentiment," he said, picking up a tipped mug. He nudges a sleeping shifter with his metal foot. "Grez, wake up. Messes to clean."

The shifter growled, then mumbled to himself incoherently.

Other than the three of you, the place is fairly empty. It seems the hobgoblin put up a fight before getting himself thrown out: there's toppled furniture and even a broken chair. Grez stood, looked at the mess, and sighed. "Another day, another gray hair for me," he snarled, shuffling to the back room.

The warforged took his place behind the bar table and began cleaning the mug. "Reminds me of a time when we warforged were created for a cause greater than ourselves. These days... we've little to look forward to. But I suppose you've heard enough from an old timer like me. What can I do for you? I can provide a place to stay... Or, if you're interested, I can let you in on some of the latest rumors..."

"I like idol talk as much as the next guy, but let's cut straight to business. Ask him about the Vassal."

[Prehysterical]

Halberd's sense of camaraderie is soured by the barkeep's words. Leaning forward on the bar, he says, "'Greater than ourselves'? All we've ever done is fight for the Fleshlings and their causes. Not once have we had a say in the matter. By the Hells, not even Bulwark was ever asked for an opinion. Hard to call it a cause when you don't have a choice.

Still, as it just so happens, I have found a real cause. What can you tell me about a 'Vassal of the Platinum God'?"

[Sir Grave]

You can see he's taken aback behind his frozen expression, and he looks away. "I... admire your spirit, friend... And I envy it. I am sorry if I have offended you. I lost many comrades during the war, both of flesh and metal, alike. Despite our differences, we always had each other's backs, such is the way of a Cyran Soldier.

"But... what was it you said? You seek a "Vassal of the Platinum God? Hmm... sounds cryptic, putting it mildly." He paused, trying to remember. "Now that you mention it... a couple of gentlemen came in here earlier today. One of them was a bastard of a man, named Brent. The other... he was a priest, but he wore strange vestments... he did mention he served a Vassal of some sort. Cynric. That was his name."

Just as he says this, you hear commotion at he door. A bald, ugly man, wearing studded leather armor, is shoved into the room. Following him, a dark haired, older man, wearing dark gray cleric's vestments, and bearing a platinum holy symbol.

"Buy yourself a drink," the cleric commanded , "sit down, and keep quiet."

"Yeah, yeah, your highness. Whatever you say," said the bald man, rolling his eyes.

The barkeep leaned in close, and quietly says to you, "That's them."

[Prehysterical]

Nodding his thanks, Halberd marches straight over to the priest. Pointing to the holy symbol, he asks bluntly, "Do you know about the Vassal of the Platinum God?"

[Sir Grave]

The cleric looks at you, startled by your intimidating demeanor. He smirks, and looks at the barkeep. "Longbow, have you been spreading rumors about me? That's very kind of you."

The barkeep nodded. "My job."

The cleric takes a seat. "Yes, I know the man you seek. I serve him, as a loyal disciple. He is the master of the Gray Keep, which is home to our Order of Knighthood. Vassal Grave 'ir Wyrmslayer, a Saint of Bahamut. Although..." He pauses, solemn. "I fear he may not be in much of a state to speak."

[Prehysterical]

Why do Fleshlings have this tendency to leave unspoken questions? Why not just say what the problem is? His exasperation hidden by his metal face-mask, Halberd asks, "And why would that be? Is he dying?"

[Sir Grave]

The cleric's eves widened. "By all that is holy, I hope not! That is..." He sighed, "...It does seem very likely. The Vassal has become ill; a great evil has seeped into his soul. We have sought for a cure to his ailment, to no avail.

"And what's worse, that same darkness has caused an unholy uprising of undead. They come from the northeast; from the Mournlands, the remnants of Cyre. We have kept them from passing into the border towards New Cyre, but we are spread too thinly. I was sent here to seek the aid of worthy adventurers to help us in our plight.

"Say...," he looks up at you, hopeful, "...you look like a seasoned warrior, yourself. Perhaps we can help each other out? Oh! Where are my manners? I've yet to introduce myself! My name is Sir Cynric. Sir Cynric Ravenhelm, at your service!"

"His ass-holiness." The bald man sat at the table Cynric was, a mug of ale in hand.

Cynric's hopeful expression twists into annoyance. "My... Associate is named Brent Gallows. He might be... untrustworthy, but I require his skills as a trapsmith. By the way, what is your name?"

"I'd take this guy's offer. Whatever this evil is, it's threatening the Vassal we need to talk with."

Advenurers of all sorts begin to enter the tavern, one by one.

[Vhaidara]

Spiker is tall, like most warforged, and strongly built, both for power and for speed. Her body was made from mithril, since the metal was thought to be more appropriate for the new breed of "Soulforged", as Merrix called them.
Her soulmelds are almost omnipresent. The shifting material of the course brown Blink Shirt covers her mithril chest. The triangular blades of her Kruthik Claws enfold her arms from the shoulder down. A spotter leather belt encircles her waist, with a tail extending from it that ends with bustle of spikes, resembling the appendage of a manticore. Turquoise energy wreathes her hands, in the approximate shape of gloves.

Spiker enters the tavern, glowering. She hated having to come into these places, but taverns seemed to be where people who wanted expeditions to the Mournlands looked. Looking around, she sees the group in the corner and walks over.
Do you need someone to go into the Mournlands? No one gets in and out faster or cleaner than I do. Even with the drow and undead infesting the place.

[Sir Grave]

Sir Cynric stops his train of thought to look at Spiker, confused. "I'm sorry..." he paused, trying to piece together what Spiker had just said. "Drow? In the Mournlands?"

"Huh. This just got even more interesting. I wonder if Lolth might be involved somehow?

[Vhaidara]

Spiker nods.
Yes. They arrived with the undead. I saw them from a distance. Not much else looks like them. Black skin and white hair. Terrible camouflage on the surface.

[Yas392]

Smudge dark face with a turban, sad and almost swollen from constant abuse of everyday go-arounds. The quality of his clothing explicit his person as a factory worker although much imply that he is not from there from the common breeches, wrinkled patches of red, brown and yellow of his tunic and his incongruent rich coat.


As usual, Kalim got a good haul by dumb luck. If you roll a dice, you had only a slight possibility of getting in and out. The pickpocket was fortunate that he had a lot of luck in his past thievery. All these nice trinkets and items. Of course, he is not heartless as people thinks if one knows him well. He smiles normally as he enters the tavern. He seats himself behind an empty table and taking in the interactions to select his next targets as the people begin to flush into the tavern. Perfect.

[Prehysterical]

Halberd takes a moment to mull over Endbringer's musings before answering the cleric. "I'm Halberd."

Turning to regard the taller warforged, he looks her over and asks, "You psyforged?"

[Vhaidara]

Spiker scoffs at Halberd.
No. Do I look like a mind-mage to you?

[Sir Grave]

Cynric went deep into thought. "Drow elves... Now this is most peculiar. If there's any chance they are involved, the Vassal must be informed".

He looked to Spiker. "We may yet require your talents. First, though, we would have to stop at the Gray Keep to give light to our situation to the rest of our knighthood. Of course, should we succeed, the Vassal will be most generous in his reward..."

You recognize Brent Gallows.

[Vhaidara]

Spiker's head turns back to the knight.
If that reward can be paid in favors, count me in. Call me Spiker.

[Sir Grave]

"Great. Two scary freakin warforged. I feel safer already..."
Brent glanced to his right, spotting Kalim.""Aw, hells... Not him..."

[Guard]

Malvin is rather tall, but thin, bordering on gaunt. His skin is uniformly the colour of ash - there's no blush to his cheeks; the only places they grey is broken is at the veins, visible on his forearms and the back of his hands, where they stand out as blue.
He has long straight, black hair, and his face is framed by two large curled ram's horns. His eyes are yellow orbs with vertical slits for pupils.

He sports a white shirt underneath a black vest, along with black pants and shoes. His ever-present brown traveling overcoat serves to hide his tail. His clothes are somewhat dishreveled - while expensive-looking he has clearly been wearing them for a while.

Malvin entered the bar in a hurry. His coat flapped around him, he intended to sit down at an empty table and scope out potential employers and/or partners, but was stopped short at the sight of the ravaged room. Still, he sat down in an empty corner, taking in and categorising the room and its inhabitants.

A warforged worked the bar, his shifter friend doszing off. Bartenders usually meant rumors, which could mean work, which he might check up on later. A fellow lurked in another corner; Malvin instantly named the factory worker Skulk. Finally, a group of warforged and humans were gathered around a table.
One warrior, a guy Malvin couldn't decide if he was desperate or just a traitor; he settled on Mr. Turner, it had a nice ring to it. Beyond those, there was a most interesting specimen of construct. It seems some ingenious inventor has taken the fusion of life and construct and brought it to its logical conclusion. That one would be worth having a look at.
Finally, the leader of the group, by the looks of it, was a wizard. Wait, no, a priest. Of Bahamut, if he wasn't much mistaken.

He sat there for a few minutes, weighing his options, before he reached a conclusion.
If the choice was between Skulk and the bahamite, well, he'd take his chances with the shiny lizard.

Malvin got out of his chair and made his way to the group. "Good evening." He touched his right hand to the corresponding horn, much as one might touch a hat in greeting. "You are in need of a specialist. That would be me. Malvin Grit, arcanist."

Thinking the matter settled, he swung a chair over to the table, and propped himself on it. "What are we working?"

[Yas392]

Kalim ignores Brent coolly, watching the Warforgeds go about but in his mind, he is livid. Seeing his ex-partner brings back awful memories of the days with aspirations get rich quickly from their mutual partnership. Brent...you, two timing scrub. How nice of you to drop by. Don't think you can trip me twice because I fell for you crap. "Powerful doohickey", "crate of valuables?" Bull. You are lucky I am not a killer. Otherwise, you would have been six foot under, I swear it.

[Sir Grave]

Cynric turned and studied Malvin for a few moments. He smiled."Ah... A fellow mage. And an abjurer at that. I'm a bit more of a universalist, myself."
While Cynric was inviting, Brent was somewhat creeped out by the newcomer. "Are those friggen horns?!"

[Somensjev]

Briar is an interesting man, about average height for a human, quite thin. he has long, straight silver hair, and his eyes are golden. his skin is tanned and has dirt all over it

he is wearing pants and a cloak made of leaves and vines, leaving his entire chest revealed, he has a piece of bark strapped to one arm with vines. he has a large walking stick.

upon his shoulders sit two birds, a white one, and a black one.

Briar enters the bar, looking a little confused and out of place, he looked at all of the furniture laying on the ground. he looks at the birds yin, yang, do you believe we have come to the right place? He doesnt wait for any form of answer, instead he goes to the counter and takes a seat on the floor in front of it.

He studies the people in the room, his eyes flitting from face to face Men of metal? Men with horns? And i was bewildered when i met an elf for the first time He laughs at the memories of that day. He decides that the rag-tag group would be the most fun.

he slowly walked up to the older man wearing grey robes, assuming he was the leader Are you in need of another to join your ranks? He stood there awkwardly, barely being able to remember the last time he talked to another human.

[Sir Grave]

Sir Cynric looks pleased with the number of responses he's getting. He then looks at Briar, and stares. "Hmm... By your tailor and your choice of companionship, I would say you are a Druid. You may be of some use."
Cynric now refers to both Briar and Malvin."I believe I'll accept you into our fold, yes. If you're up to the challenge."
A little less than half an hour goes by, and by now the tavern is getting a little more full. Some are just here for a drink or a place to stay. Others are adventurers starting out on their own. None seem like worthy candidates to Cynric.
"Brent, why are you hiding your face from that man over there?"
Brent scowled harder than he has been."I DON'T LIKE HIM."
"Ah, then that must be grounds to speak with him." He gestured over to Kalim.

[czieg]

Oren is wrapped in cloth, like those of the desert, as he steps into the tavern. His head is covered so that you can only see his bright blue eyes. He carries with him a long, slender item, also wrapped in cloth.
Oren finds an empty table, close to the door and the bar, keeping an ear out for any opportunities to use his skills. He glances around at the inhabitants of the tavern and smiles beneath his mask. There was a bigger crowd here then any time in the last week Oren had been staying here. At the mention of work, he looks over at the the table where an armored man, a pair of metal people, and a loud upstart were talking.

I hate to interrupt, but it sounds like you could use one of my profession.

As he says this he removes the cloth from the item he was holding to reveal a long musket.

I'm not sure who these drow are, but if they bleed, I can kill it.

[Sir Grave]

None of you are familiar with the item he shows you. It seems like a rather complex and mechanical stick of some kind.
"Fascinating. What is it?" asked the cleric-mage.
Brent's eyes widened, in amazement. ""Oh, my gods! That's a musket!"
Cynric looked confused. "A what?"
"They're long ranged, explosion driven projectile weapons. They deal heavy wounds to whatever it hits. I remember the thieve's Guild trying to buy these weapons from some merchant, but he wouldn't allow it."
"Hmm..." Cynric examined the weapon. "If I didn't know of this device, chances are, the drow are unaware of it's existence as well. Wouldn't they be in for a surprise, then." He nodded. "Consider yourself hired.
"Now, Brent, if you don't mind, see if you can invite that gentleman sitting over there."
Brent glared at him, then at Kalim. "Fine," he grumbled.
He stood and walked over to Kalim. He stood over him. "...Kalim..."

[Yas392]

Ah and who might you be, young sir? I must be famous around these area for you to know my name. Kalim act as polite as ever to avoid suspicion as if he did not have a history with this unreliable person.

[czieg]

Glad to be of service.
His expression darkens as he looks to Brent,
You touch it and I will use your corpse as target practice...

[Sir Grave]

Brent rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, 'we've never met before, blah, blah **** blah.' My boss over there wants to talk to you about a job. And before you ask, he's not from the Guild. Feel free to turn him down, solve my headache." With that, he returns to the table.

I'm fairly certain these people will become more than just acquaintances, Halberd. Watch out for them: you're their protector.

Something about Sir Cynric interests you. You can't pinpoint what.

Forgot to mention: you did note that the arcane storm, though it had the shape and cycle of a low level hurricane, did not seem to move in any direction.

[Guard]

Malvin spent the better part of that hour watching his new partners. A motley crew if he ever saw one. There were something strange about there new leader. Skulk and Turner knew each other, huh? No surprise there. He was contemplating whether to bring up his question that everyone seemed to have forgotten, when an idea jumped into his head.
Oh. Oh. Servant of Bahamut indeed. He almost smiled. It registered on his face as a minor twitch. Still, back to that question. "What is this task that we have agreed to achieve for you? I gather it has to do with the Mournlands." Yes. This phrasing was clearer.

[Sir Grave]

"I suppose it would, yes, however, the exact details are unknown to me. I was merely sent here to recruit your aid. Naturally, I represent Vassal Grave 'ir Wyrmslayer, who couldn't come here himself. He will tell you more."
He looked over to Halberd, eyeing his blade. "Hmm... Flawless craftsmanship, Halberd. Where did you get it?"

[Yas392]

The mention of his employment by a paladin makes him feel completely unease. But he could defame the justiciar's reputation if the public found out that he's hiring criminals to do his work for him. As Brent turns, he swipes at him with his nimble fingers.


Pickpocketing when Brent's back is turned and is returning to his table.
Sleight of Hands - [roll0]

[Sir Grave]

You manage to swipe a coin purse from his exposed belt pouch. Once you're sure he didn't notice, you open the pouch discretely and start counting Add 50 GP to your sheet.

[czieg]

You keep talking about these drow, who are they?

[Somensjev]

Briar stood awkwardly, not sure what to do. he stared at the group of people he had joined up with, then walked up to the ashen man. pray tell, why do you have horns?


listening in on as many conversations as i can while talking to Malvin

[roll0] - listen

[Guard]

Although Malvin was sitting still, the back of his coat flicked as if something twitched beneath it.
A little soft in the head, this one then. Still, he seems harmless enough, a far cry from the self-righteous glares and sword-rustling that oftentimes accompanies faces like that. His yellow eyes narrowed slightly at the strangely dressed man.

"I imagine it is for the same reason you have golden eyes; I inherited them. Ultimately, I do not know. Your guess is as good as mine."
Malvin wished to be elsewhere. If they were supposed to talk to this vassal, Wyrmslayer next, they should be at it while there was still light left to see by. Still, it seemed Cynric was not yet done acquireing manpower.

[Prehysterical]

"I suppose it would, yes, however, the exact details are unknown to me. I was merely sent here to recruit your aid. Naturally, I represent Vassal Grave 'ir Wyrmslayer, who couldn't come here himself. He will tell you more."
He looked over to Halberd, eyeing his blade. "Hmm... Flawless craftsmanship, Halberd. Where did you get it?"

Halberd replies, "Found it in an old fortress that had been taken over by bandits. A friend of mine nearly got himself killed getting past all the magic traps."

[Sir Grave]

You keep talking about these drow, who are they?

"You a shut in, or something?"Brent sat down in his seat. "They'd be the native elves of that new continent discovered south, across the sea. They're dark skinned, white haired savages, the lot of them. What I can't figure out is what the hell are they doing in the Mournlands, unless this walking clanker here is less competent than looks!"


Halberd replies, "Found it in an old fortress that had been taken over by bandits. A friend of mine nearly got himself killed getting past all the magic traps."

"Ah. Curious, indeed, what we find in the aftermath of the Last War, isn't it?" Cynric couldn't help but notice the slight Brent had given to Spiker, and he chuckled. "Funny, Brent. I could say the same of you, when it comes to competency."
What the hell are you blathering about?" Brent gritted his teeth after the stab at his pride.
"I merely state that for a reputed Guild member, you seem to lack the skill of keeping your coin secure. Tell me: do you have the gold to pay off the drinks you've consumed?"
Brent checked his belt pouch, seeing that his coin purse was missing. "WHAT?!"
Cynric laughed.
For that roll, not only can you keep up with the conversations going on, you also note the conversations going on between others in the tavern. The most commonly talked about subject seems to be about sightings of zombie stragglers from the northeast, passing Gray Keep. It seems the Vassal's Knighthood is not fairing so well.

[Vhaidara]

Spiker bristles at Brent's comment. Her tail snakes around to poke at him.
Do you want to try me? I'll give you a head start.

Reference image for the tail (http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/MM35_gallery/MM35_PG180.jpg)

[Sir Grave]

Spiker bristles at Brent's comment. Her tail snakes around to poke at him.
Do you want to try me? I'll give you a head start.

Reference image for the tail (http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/MM35_gallery/MM35_PG180.jpg)

Cynric raises his hand to Spiker. Believe me when I say he isn't worth your wrath. Besides, we may still need him."
He looks back in the direction of Kalim. "Hmm... that thief over there... he is very skilled, surpassing my needs. But he seems to be playing 'hard to get.' I wonder... is he simply after coin? No. With those talents of his, he would already be retired. Perhaps I should appeal to his sense of honor. Excuse me."
The priest stood, and walked over to Kalim. "Good evening. You seem to have history with my trapsmith, though I don't think you're with the guild. Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

[Prehysterical]

Looking over to the other warforged, Halberd asks, "So, Spiker, what unit were you stationed in?"

[Vhaidara]

Spiker glares at him.
I wasn't.

[czieg]

Oren wraps up his musket back in it's cloth and glances over at Spiker
I thought all of the metal people were in the military before they were freed. Why not you?

[Vhaidara]

Her glare shifts to Oren.
Because there was no war when I was made.

[czieg]

Her glare shifts to Oren.
Because there was no war when I was made.

You bristle like a hedgehog, yet I don't see why.

[Vhaidara]

I dislike people. Beasts are more reliable and more honest.

[Somensjev]

Briar glances at Spiker. Ah, a metal person after my own heart, let's see if i can't get a better conversation out of this kindred spirit.

He walks calmly towards spiker "Greetings Metal One, i am Briar, and i see we have similar mindsets."

[Vhaidara]

She nods to him.
Spiker.

[Somensjev]

"well met Spiker. So, tell me, why have you chosen to travel with these people?" he glances towards Cynric and Brent, before looking back to Spiker

[Vhaidara]

Because I need favors. They seem to be in a position to help me earn a significant favor.

[Somensjev]

"Ah, i see, that makes sense. So, what skills do you add to our ragtag group? he gestures at all the people who have joined Cynric so far

once i've finished learning from this one i might go see what information i can gather from the other metal one

[Vhaidara]

She gesture at her tail.
I strike down whatever stands in my path from a distance.
Then she vanishes and appears behind Briar
And I have a number of other tricks.

Blink Shirt :smalltongue:
It let's me Dimension Door as a standard action up to 10ft+10/essentia invested in the blink shirt (currently 1)

[Yas392]

Kalim shrugs. Definitely not, noble knight. Kalim's knees is on his chair, leaning to the paladin. Surely, you had heard it just now from your "loyal associate" who just came to me. But if you had not the good ear, Kalim, just plain Kalim. I am satiated for the moment if you cover my "expenses" for my expedient. His face twists into a poker face.

[Sir Grave]

Longbow sees Spiker perform his astonishing trick. "No spells or similar effects, please, " he says, "Or just take it outside."
Brent chugged down his ale. "So you're a warforged who didn't fight in a war. That's just freakin' hilarious." He turned to Halberd. "So what's your story? All you do is swing a big sword around, right? The Brelish. I bet you fought for the Brelish. You seem like a 'I proudly served under Commander Bulwark during the war,' kind of guy. You know what they say about Bulwark these days? 'I hope he doesn't kill all of our weak fleshed children...'"

You know what? I take that back. Protect everyone but him.

[Somensjev]

Briar turns to look at Spiker.that's going to come in very handy one day.

"that seems infinitely useful, how far can you do that?"

[Vhaidara]

She look over at Longbow
Nothing will damage your establishment.
She turns back to Briar.
I depends on how much of my energy I focus into the soulmeld. My absolute limit is thirty feet, but that inhibits my combat ability.

[Somensjev]

Briar considers this information. "Oh, so it's a trade-off? The more power you put into that ability the less useful you'll be in a fight?"

He turns to look at longbow. "Ah, barkeeper, may i request a bowl of water for my two friends? Hopefully it's not too much trouble. Oh, and i apologise, but i have no.. Money.. to pay you with, if a bowl of water costs you anything could i do you a favour instead of paying?"

[Prehysterical]

He turned to Halberd. "So what's your story? All you do is swing a big sword around, right? The Brelish. I bet you fought for the Brelish. You seem like a 'I proudly served under Commander Bulwark during the war,' kind of guy. You know what they say about Bulwark these days? 'I hope he doesn't kill all of our weak fleshed children...'"

Fortunately for Brent, warforged are incapable of forming an expression like an enraged snarl. Instead, the angry warforged grasps the rogue by the front of his shirt. "Aye, I fought for the Brelish. And the four other nations, too. That's what happens when you are thought of as just a walking weapon. And no, I never served under Bulwark. Never had that honor."

Now the warforged leans forward, pressing his metal faceplate right up against Brent's face in complete defiance of personal boundaries. His pupilless blue eyes bore into Borris's. "And if I ever hear you disrespect Bulwark again, I'll be happy to show you that I don't need a big sword to tear you limb from limb." Halberd hefts an adamantine-clad fist meaningfully.
[roll0]

[czieg]

Longbow sees Spiker perform his astonishing trick. "No spells or similar effects, please, " he says, "Or just take it outside."
Brent chugged down his ale. "So you're a warforged who didn't fight in a war. That's just freakin' hilarious." He turned to Halberd. "So what's your story? All you do is swing a big sword around, right? The Brelish. I bet you fought for the Brelish. You seem like a 'I proudly served under Commander Bulwark during the war,' kind of guy. You know what they say about Bulwark these days? 'I hope he doesn't kill all of our weak fleshed children...'"

You know what? I take that back. Protect everyone but him.

Just how were you caught? Did someone turn you in or did you slip up?

[Guard]

Malvin's eyes darted around the room, avoiding looking at the angry ecxchange in front of him. He really wished to be elsewhere.
He leaned across the table towards Cynric. "When and where will we be meeting up with your master? I have little desire to watch this squabble."

[Sir Grave]

Fortunately for Brent, warforged are incapable of forming an expression like an enraged snarl. Instead, the angry warforged grasps the rogue by the front of his shirt. "Aye, I fought for the Brelish. And the four other nations, too. That's what happens when you are thought of as just a walking weapon. And no, I never served under Bulwark. Never had that honor."

Now the warforged leans forward, pressing his metal faceplate right up against Brent's face in complete defiance of personal boundaries. His pupilless blue eyes bore into Borris's. "And if I ever hear you disrespect Bulwark again, I'll be happy to show you that I don't need a big sword to tear you limb from limb." Halberd hefts an adamantine-clad fist meaningfully.
[roll0]

Almost the whole tavern notices the outburst Halberd gives. Then, knowing who the metallic warrior is threatening, returns to their drinks. Brent himself says nothing: apparently all talk and no bite. He doesn't even give a snide response to Oren's question.


Briar considers this information. "Oh, so it's a trade-off? The more power you put into that ability the less useful you'll be in a fight?"

He turns to look at longbow. "Ah, barkeeper, may i request a bowl of water for my two friends? Hopefully it's not too much trouble. Oh, and i apologise, but i have no.. Money.. to pay you with, if a bowl of water costs you anything could i do you a favour instead of paying?"

The one-eyed warforged walks over to Briar with the bowl of water requested. "Here you go. As for favors, if you're staying here, we could use help closing down the tavern later. Grez is feeling... overwhelmed."
Longbow looks over to Halberd and Brent. If anyone didn't know any better, they would say he was smiling. He takes empty mugs and leaves.

[Sir Grave]

Kalim shrugs. Definitely not, noble knight. Kalim's knees is on his chair, leaning to the paladin. Surely, you had heard it just now from your "loyal associate" who just came to me. But if you had not the good ear, Kalim, just plain Kalim. I am satiated for the moment if you cover my "expenses" for my expedient. His face twists into a poker face.

"Perhaps I will. On one condition: I require your aid. Come over to my table if you wish to know the details and payment. You may feel free to turn me down, but I doubt that from an honorable soul, like you."
Before turning back to his new group, he said one last thing. By the way, if you are intending to pull that same trick you pulled on Mr.Gallows, you'll find that my senses are somewhat more difficult to fool. Not threatening, just telling."


Malvin's eyes darted around the room, avoiding looking at the angry ecxchange in front of him. He really wished to be elsewhere.
He leaned across the table towards Cynric. "When and where will we be meeting up with your master? I have little desire to watch this squabble."

Cynric returns. "I surely hope you all aren't already trying to kill each other," he said, with a smirk. He looked over to Malvin. "I believe I have secured a partnership with our friend Kalim, over there. If not, we'll travel without. As for when, I believe the Vassal shall hold his ground while we rest for the night, here at the inn. It is half a day's ride, and I shall have horses bought and ready for the journey."

[Yas392]

Kalim's tone is smooth as he walks with Cynric to the main table. A piece of advice. Being too truthful is a killer for reputation. Honourable? Stop saying that if you know me? Kalim glares at Cynric for a moment before continuing. You will have my aid after you hear what kind of "expenses" you will have to cover. Firstly, protection from any interference from law bringers, mob and debtors. Secondly, immunity against your judgement; that means my ways are not to be questioned and you will not act against it. Those are my "expenses." Swear that you can back it up in the name of your god and you will have me for your motley crew on your task involving the Mournlands, bringer of justice.

[Prehysterical]

Disgusted by the lack of spine in Brent, the warforged suddenly lets go of his shirt and turns back to Spiker. "So, these drow elves... what tactics have you seen? Armaments? Fighting styles? Do they take prisoners, or do they just kill all they come across?"

[Vhaidara]

I saw them from a distance. And I didn't stay to observe them. But that storm over the Mournlands isn't moving. If the dark elves are unusual, then they are probably connected to the storm.

[Sir Grave]

Kalim's tone is smooth as he walks with Cynric to the main table. A piece of advice. Being too truthful is a killer for reputation. Honourable? Stop saying that if you know me? Kalim glares at Cynric for a moment before continuing. You will have my aid after you hear what kind of "expenses" you will have to cover. Firstly, protection from any interference from law bringers, mob and debtors. Secondly, immunity against your judgement; that means my ways are not to be questioned and you will not act against it. Those are my "expenses." Swear that you can back it up in the name of your god and you will have me for your motley crew on your task involving the Mournlands, bringer of justice.

"Hmm... I can live with your terms. Surely, had the circumstances of his recruitment been different, Brent's terms would be far worse."


Disgusted by the lack of spine in Brent, the warforged suddenly lets go of his shirt and turns back to Spiker. "So, these drow elves... what tactics have you seen? Armaments? Fighting styles? Do they take prisoners, or do they just kill all they come across?"


I saw them from a distance. And I didn't stay to observe them. But that storm over the Mournlands isn't moving. If the dark elves are unusual, then they are probably connected to the storm.

Brent spoke up, regaining some of his snide attitude. "So there's some arcane storm? Big deal. The Mournlands has those all the time."

"While true, I wouldn't rule out the possibility, Brent. Whatever is causing this storm and the undead is also after the soul of Vassal Wyrmslayer; he is clearly a deliberate target." Sir Cynric leaned in closer. "And what's more, the drow are not known for visiting the mainland, let alone a place like the Mournlands. They must be here for a reason."

[Yas392]

I believe the aphorism here is "I believe we need to dive past the eye of the storm into the heart of our enemies."

Kalim butts in after Brent's sentence to annoy him more, his form of speech changes to informal, a breather when addressing the others who joined forces after that heated bargain with the priest.

You two warforged? Never saw your lot after the Treaty. Heard Cannith messed up pretty bad and cooped up in their secret stowaway these days. They deserved it after all for bending your kind for their cause.

Kalim pretends to freak and raising his hands in protest as he sees the large musket but in truth, he is disgusted with it because the weaponry is against his policy to steal without killing and it is not a weapon that he ever wanted to steal since it can lead to indiscriminate bloodshed.

Don't swing this thing around. You could seriously injure someone with that!

Regaining his composure, Kalim introduces himself to the party with his wholeness excluding Brent whom he intentionally ignored. His back slants against the wall before the table as he juggles his knife with one hand using his acrobatics.

Now that that's out of the way, our resident paladin recruited me to help him with his problem. You can call me Kalim. I can contribute in ways except in direct confrontation. I hope we can work together without any hassle.

Kalim flicks his knife back into his pocket, putting on the biggest smile to prolong Brent's headache. Why he accept is simple; adventure out of this boring dump and revenge which had ignited to a good start after nabbing that magnificent bastard.

[Somensjev]

Briar looks at the man called Kalim he looks harmless enough, lets see how much information i can glean from this one

"Greetings Kalim, i am Briar Rose, what brings you to our little group?" Briar smiles widely

[Yas392]

There and back again. Someone is a lightning rod and a quest like this attract youths like me, I suppose. A pleasure to meet you, Briar. Kalim smiles back.

[Vhaidara]

Spiker scoffs.
I was not forged for war. D'Cannith called me Soulforged

[Sir Grave]

Now that that's out of the way, our resident paladin recruited me to help him with his problem. You can call me Kalim. I can contribute in ways except in direct confrontation. I hope we can work together without any hassle.




Spiker scoffs.
I was not forged for war. D'Cannith called me Soulforged

"And, ah, I am not actually a paladin. I'm afraid I only know the basics of swinging a sword. Nor am I, strictly speaking, a cleric. I like to think of myself as more of a practicing mystic theurge, than anything else, a student of both divine and arcane knowledge. The 'Sir' in front of my name is merely a title."

[Somensjev]

"I see. So, Sir Cynric, when will we leave this fine building?"

[Sir Grave]

"As I said, I believe it would be wise to depart on the morrow, at dawn, to be precise. It would not help the Vassal for us to arrive weary and smelling of liquor. "
Unless there are more questions, I'll have a couple of hours pass.

[Sir Grave]

Two hours pass as you all drink and converse with one another, and it gets late. Many leave, forming small groups of "Undead Hunters" to kill straggling zombies sighted pass the Brelish border. Only your group remains.
Sir Cynric returns from speaking with Longbow.
"I have taken the liberty of renting rooms for our rag tag group of misfits. Three bedrooms are meant for two, and two others are solitary. I trust you will leave the solitary rooms for our resident spellcasters: namely Malvin and I. We depart at six 'o clock. I trust you will rest well.

"On another note: Have we decided on a name for our little band? I thought about 'the Mournland Watch," but I've never really been creative when it comes to choosing names for these things."

[Vhaidara]

I shall meet you outside of town tomorrow then.
Spiker turns to leave.

[czieg]

I shall meet you outside of town tomorrow then.
Spiker turns to leave.

Likewise.

Oren climbs the stairs to his room in the inn

[Yas392]

I have a booking elsewhere. I will meet you at the spot that you indicated morrow. Kalim slips between spaces and is gone.

[Sir Grave]

I will simply progress the story. But many of you will recieve private messages.

[Guard]

Malvin stands up to leave. "I have little preferences as to the name. You have my thanks for the room, however." He turns, and makes off for the stairs to the room where he'd spend the night.

What a strange set of traveling companions he'd found. He felt somewhat apprehensive about the prospect of speaking further with them; it seemed there were a lot of egos that needed to assert themselves. And he suspected at least one of them was more than he seemed. Malvin shook his head and went to the task of preparing for bed, washing down, disrobing, and using magic to clear up some stains on his clothes. His spellbook was wrapped in a cloth and placed under his pillow.

He'd deal with 'the Mournland Watch' one day at a time.

[Sir Grave]

Dawn.
The sky is overcast with gray clouds. The city is quiet, but that is common at this time of day. You all gather at the meeting spot outside of the city. Sir Cynric awaits, with eight horses. Noticing only seven riders, the theurge raises an eyebrow.
"Where's Brent?"

[Vhaidara]

Spiker has traded in her spiked arms for a mask. A hornlike protrusion (http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/MM35_gallery/MM35_PG262.jpg) now juts from her head.
He fled town last night. Something scared him. I thought it might have been a mouse, but then I saw something. A figure with purple eyes. And it was rude. It seemed to think it was the hunter and I was the prey. And then it said it would return, and vanished.

Switched to the Yrthak Mask instead of the Kruthik Claws

[Yas392]

Just like a dog with its tail between legs. Kalim laughs then grows serious. Did that actually happen? There is no commotion in my district. Shame. If that weasel got paid, I believe a certain someone just wasted a lot of time and resources hand-picking that man.

[Guard]

Malvin had slept somewhat fitfully, and was more close-lipped than ever as he met up with his companions that morning. Spiker's comment made him pick himself up, however. "Turner turned his tail. Surprise, surprise.", Malvin mumbled to himself with a half-smile. The implication of what the soulforged said caused him to grow serious, however. "Spiker, that figure, did he perchance refer to his name?"

[Vhaidara]

No.


character minimum

[Sir Grave]

Cynric stroked his beard. "Hmm..." He looked at the arcanist. "Malvin, do you have some insight on this matter?"

[Guard]

"No. Just a strange coincidence. I'm quite sure it is not of import after all. I dreamt of a malevolent voice, claiming it would return. But I have been known to have such dreams before." Malvin's tail twitched beneath his coat. "Nothing of import, as I said."

[Somensjev]

Briar came out to meet his companions, catching the whole conversation
"i too had a strange dream, the figure with purple eyes, or at least, a figure with purple eyes was in it. In my eyes that's a couple of coincidences too many"

He turned to Spiker "Did you see which direction he fled?"

[Vhaidara]

She nods in the direction the group is planning on going.

[czieg]

Too bad, I wanted to be the one to hunt Brent down myself.

Oren has a pair of strange horns swinging at his waist. His rifle is also now out in the open, although he is still wrapped in cloth.

[Somensjev]

Briar turned to look at the man wrapped in cloth. "I'm sure you'll get a chance to hunt him down soon. Also, i don't believe we've had the pleasure of speaking before, i am Briar."

[czieg]

Briar turned to look at the man wrapped in cloth. "I'm sure you'll get a chance to hunt him down soon. Also, i don't believe we've had the pleasure of speaking before, i am Briar."

Oren extends his hand. "Oren Longshot of the Water Baron Snipers,"

[Somensjev]

Oren extends his hand. "Oren Longshot of the Water Baron Snipers,"

Briar grins and shakes Oren's hand. "A pleasure to meet you Oren Longshot of the Water Baron Snipers."

[Prehysterical]

Staying silent until this point, Halberd's curiosity finally gets the better of him. "Water Baron Snipers? Are they a mercenary group?" His gaze lowers to the horns on Oren's belt. "Are those signal horns?"

[czieg]

Staying silent until this point, Halberd's curiosity finally gets the better of him. "Water Baron Snipers? Are they a mercenary group?" His gaze lowers to the horns on Oren's belt. "Are those signal horns?"

I am from the Blade Desert. My tribe has a deal with a merchant that if we teach him desert survival techniques, he teaches us to use firearms. My tribe became powerful enough to take over an oasis, a place of water. We use our firearms to defend our oasis. We heard from our merchant friend that we were being called The Water Baron Snipers.

These horns have gunpowder in each. If you light a match near one of these when they are open, you risk blowing yourself into multiple pieces.

[Sir Grave]

She nods in the direction the group is planning on going.

Sir Cynric looked to the North. "Towards the Gray Keep. Interestng..."
He turns to the rest of the party. "Mount up. If there's a chance of finding Brent on the way to my Vassal, then I would prefer we take that chance. I for one would like to garner from him what it is he actually saw."

I'll assume you all decide to follow him, unless you deliberately object... which I doubt.

As you all ride, you all arrive to a heavily wooded area, and Sir Cynric rides on in. The trees are tall pines, centuries old, though quite a few are bare. The gloomy overcast does not let up, and the forest is dark even in the morning. Cynric is far ahead of you when he finally says something.

"Gentlemen, I believe I have found Mr.Gallows... though...I cannot say with absolute certainty."

You ride up to meet him: the smell of blood is heavy in the air. You come to a clearing, where Cynric stares solemnly up into the trees..

The body is hung up on the branches, flesh stripped down to the muscles, face twisted into an agonizing horror. Carrion birds feast on what remains, and flies are everywhere. You can find his blood in numerous places. On a stone in the center are markings painted in red.

To the Shrine of the Forgotten One, I go. To those who dare to find me, ye shall follow.

"While he was a coward," said Cynric, "Brent was cunning, elusive, and at times a deadly man. He has been known to escape secure prisons, and contribute to the deaths of many of the Guild's enemies.
"Whoever our new adversary is... killed Brent with little effort. Whatever it is... Mortal, undead... even otherworldly... he is a force to be reckoned with. Stay on your guard, friends, and keep together."

[Guard]

The carnage has Malvin wide-eyed with horror. Still, he dismounts his horse to take a closer look when he notices the writing on the stone. Trailing his finger across the writing, although without actually touching it, he commits the short message to memory.
"Interesting. I'd wager we have a devil on our hands; it seems to have left directions. It's headed for 'the shrine of the Forgotten One'. Would that perchance be another name for this grey keep you speak of?"

[Sir Grave]

Cynric looked at Malvin, shocked. "Bahamut's teeth! You can read that foul dialect?"
Cynric shook his head, "that is... No. No it is not. I've never heard of such a place."

[Guard]

Malvin looks distinctly uncomfortable. "I... My master knew a great many arcane languages. I have picked up a few of them. This happens to be among them."

He changed the subject. "I don't believe we should attempt to track down this creature. It is obvious it wants to be found, leaving behind a challenge like this. If it knows something is coming for it, it will have a trap laid out."

OOC
"Arcane" here meaning obscure, exotic.

[Somensjev]

Briar stepped foreward, his eyes locked on the body. "No. I'm not so sure it would set up a trap. A trap is meant to catch things, but there's no fun in killing a trapped creature. I believe this.. Being.. Would be more likely to lure us somewhere and then hunt us down. We'd be less than pray, we'd be toys for it's amusement."

Briar looked at the group "That being said, going to the place it mentioned, this "shrine of the Forgotten One", is practically suicide. If this being thought and acted like a predator then we might have been able to kill it, however it is not, it is merely playing with us."

[Prehysterical]

Halberd hates riding around on animals, preferring to walk around on his own two tireless feet. Still, he recognizes Cynric's desire to reach their destination quickly. The corpse of the runaway Brent is a strangely welcome distraction to him. The horrors he had witnessed in the Last War meant that the sight did not distress him. The implications of it, however, worried him greatly. From atop his own mount, the warforged watches the others converse before venturing his own opinion.

"Whatever did this, it's obviously a threat to anyone who wanders through this area. This thing likes to kill, and us passing it by will not do anything to stop it. In fact, I suspect that it will follow us. The dreams of the purple-eyed figure and Brent's actions coincide too much with this. I say we do the world a favor and go crush this thing's skull like it was dry field rations."

[Vhaidara]

Spiker shared Halberd's distaste for horses. They were prey, and she was predator, after all. They had no business working together.

When they find the body of the thief, Spiker is nothing more than annoyed.
And this is the fate of cowards. He should have fought. Maybe he could have gotten lucky and at least wounded his hunter. But it is irrelevant to our goal. When this work is done, I will return and hunt this creature. And one of us will die, as it should be.

[czieg]

I'm afraid that devils and creatures of other planes are beyond my experience. If it wants to be found by us, let it be the one to come to us...

Oren returns to the road, more than a bit shaken.

[Sir Grave]

Sir Cynric was silent for everyone's suggestions at what to do next, until at last he spoke. "There are still the undead and the drow to consider. They are as much of a threat to common folk as this new menace. And I for one am not willing to outright abandon my Vassal, his Knighthood or those they are protecting as we speak. If this bloody message is any indication, we have not seen the last of this monster, no matter what descision we make."

[czieg]

Fine, but when we get there, I'm going to research how to kill one of these things.

[Vhaidara]

If the people cannot defend themselves, it is only proper for them to be hunted. That is the way it works.

[Sir Grave]

If the people cannot defend themselves, it is only proper for them to be hunted. That is the way it works.

"I... wouldn't say that, Spiker. However, 'better to deal with the devil you know.'" His eyes were set back onto the path. "Let us depart before we smell of this evil."
Cynric spurred his horse, ushering her forward.
Unless there are any objections, we shall keep moving.

Just warning you, Halberd: this creature is unknown to me, much less it's purpose. I'm not sure how much help I will be against it, other than as a weapon.

Kalim, silent the whole time, took one last look at Brent's remains. Not exactly how I pictured you biting it... he thought to himself. He took out a silver piece, and held it up at the late trapsmith. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr.Gallows," he said, finally. He flipped the coin under where his body hanged. And with that, he rode on.

A few hours of riding later, and you see a clearly paved road for a change. The trees are less condensed, though the gray skies do not seem to be letting up. Thunder rolls in the distance. Eventually, you feel a light drizzle, which turns to a moderate downpour of rain.

Sir Cynric rides on. "We are close now," he says. "If we hurry, we could seek shelter within the Vassal's Hall."

Sure enough, fifteen minutes of riding later, you all find a fork in the road, with a sign pointing your way to Gray Keep. You continue, finally making it to a new clearing.

The fort itself is small, and not very impressive. Gray walls, and a single tower on the west end of the structure. There are a few banners draped upon the keep: each with a platinum star upon a blue field. Hodge podge barricades are placed outside of the walls, each with a few men at arms posted behind them. Upon closer inspection, you notice a line of bodies with white blankets draped over them, heavily guarded by several warriors.

However, what catches your amazement is what sits atop the tower: a huge, winged, silver scaled beast which could only be a dragon! It remains perfectly still, stalwartly staring towards the north, unmoved by your appearance. You're not even sure if it notices you.

As you all approach, a half elven woman, red-haired and armored in scale mail, points her scimitar at you.

"HALT! This area is not safe for travelling! We can provide no more sanctuary! Turn back!"

[Vhaidara]

I say what I mean. The strong will hunt the weak. It is the way of the world.

As the rain begins to pour, Spiker's irritation at being mounted grows. So when the half-elven woman tries to turn them away, she nearly snaps. Her tail begins to jerk forward, but she stops it before the spikes fly.
I expected better from my employers. And from servants of the dragon god, no less!

[Sir Grave]

I say what I mean. The strong will hunt the weak. It is the way of the world.

As the rain begins to pour, Spiker's irritation at being mounted grows. So when the half-elven woman tries to turn them away, she nearly snaps. Her tail begins to jerk forward, but she stops it before the spikes fly.
I expected better from my employers. And from servants of the dragon god, no less!

Cynric quikcly stood between Spiker and the half-elf. ""Put those away, damn it all!" He turned and bowed to the armored woman, who was unmoved by Spiker's display. "Mistress Sorra, I have returned with this group at the request of the Vassal himself. These gentlemen are called the Mournland Watch, here to help us with our plight. But we must speak with Saint Wyrmslayer, immediately."

The half elf lowered her blade. "Sir Cynric," she said,"I-I'm sorry, but the Vassal cannot be disturbed in his condition."

"It is a matter of great importance, my Lady. I have received ill tidings of our current situation-"

Lady Sorra tried her best to hide her worry, but it's as clear as day. "You don't understand. Th-the Vassal's illness has gone from bad to worse! By the divines, you can see it upon his face..."

[Guard]

"If the Vassal is truly dying, it only emphasises the import of our errand. This matter can hardly wait 'till after he is dead. Let us pass." Malvin stated drily.

[Sir Grave]

Anyone feel free to make a diplomacy roll or aid in a diplomacy roll.

[Somensjev]

Briar takes a half-step towards the half-elf called Sorra"Ma'am, i know you're worried about the vassal, but the information is of the utmost importance. it is imperative that he hears what we have to say."

diplomacy check
[roll0]
i really hope this roll works

[Sir Grave]

Briar takes a half-step towards the half-elf called Sorra"Ma'am, i know you're worried about the vassal, but the information is of the utmost importance. it is imperative that he hears what we have to say."

diplomacy check
[roll0]
i really hope this roll works

You are very close. Would you care to spend an action point for a 1d6 bonus?

[Somensjev]

You are very close. Would you care to spend an action point for a 1d6 bonus?

sure, i guess
[roll0]

hopefully this roll is better than the last

[Sir Grave]

Briar takes a half-step towards the half-elf called Sorra"Ma'am, i know you're worried about the vassal, but the information is of the utmost importance. it is imperative that he hears what we have to say."

diplomacy check
[roll0]
i really hope this roll works

...
...
...
... Close enough. :smallwink:

Lady Sorra, hesitant to respond, gives a heavy sigh. "... My humble apologies. Our helpless outnumber our strong, and our dead outnumber our living. We all grow weary. I... will see to it the Vassal knows that you're here-"

"BEWARE!"

Behind you, a mortally wounded soldier on horseback rides towards your group, and falls at Lady Sorra's feet. His neck bears a severe bite wound. He is dying.

"...M-My Lady... Undead... They are coming... s-so many... beware..."

He dies. Lady Sorra Turns to the few men she has. "STATIONS! The undead come again! " She turns to the Mournland Watch. "If you mean well, help us."

[Prehysterical]

Finally glad to be back in his own element, Halberd swiftly dismounts and faces the direction that the soldier appeared from. His hand clutches Endbringer's hilt and the massive blade is finally held in his hands again. He assumes a ready stance with the blade pointing backward, poised to send it swinging forth in a deadly arc.

Ready to finally see some action, Endbringer? Don't worry, I won't use you to bash any skeletons. I'll just hit them with my fists.

Looking back at Spiker, whose earlier remarks had irked him, he says, "Not forged for war, huh? Well, let's see how well you do in open battle."

[Somensjev]

...
...
...
... Close enough. :smallwink:


i swear to obad-hai, if i ever roll that badly again then the first undead i see will take a noncombatant's quaterstaff to the face :smallsigh:


He dies. Lady Sorra Turns to the few men she has. "STATIONS! The undead come again! " She turns to the Mournland Watch. "If you mean well, help us."

i cannot speak for the rest of them, but i will help you as best i can

i'm going to make a listen check to try and hear the undead. don't for get, i'm a great scout (http://dndtools.eu/feats/players-handbook-ii--80/keen-eared-scout--1710/)

[roll0]

i swear to obad-hai, i'd better at least get in the 20's

[Vhaidara]

Spiker laughs at Halberd's comment.
War is far from the only form of battle. I've killed my share of undead in the Mournlands.
Her tail whips up to her shoulder as she looks up at the warrior woman.
Now, are you going to let us in before the undead arrive?

[Sir Grave]

i swear to obad-hai, if i ever roll that badly again then the first undead i see will take a noncombatant's quaterstaff to the face :smallsigh:



i cannot speak for the rest of them, but i will help you as best i can

i'm going to make a listen check to try and hear the undead. don't for get, i'm a great scout (http://dndtools.eu/feats/players-handbook-ii--80/keen-eared-scout--1710/)

[roll0]

i swear to obad-hai, i'd better at least get in the 20's


Spiker laughs at Halberd's comment.
War is far from the only form of battle. I've killed my share of undead in the Mournlands.
Her tail whips up to her shoulder as she looks up at the warrior woman.
Now, are you going to let us in before the undead arrive?

Lady Sorra glares at Spiker. "If you are truly a capable fighter, you will help us prevent the undead from even entering the sanctity of Gray Keep. There are innocents inside!"

It is difficult to hear with the downpour, but you hear the faint sound of ghastly moaning... and it grows louder... accompanied by a chorus of cold groans... They draw close...

[Vhaidara]

Spiker looks at the woman for a moment before laughing again.
You may have a spine, it seems. Perhaps I will need to fear, when the day comes that I hunt you.

[czieg]

I understand your hesitance but I do much better at longer range.
Oren hefty his rifle to his shoulder, pouring in some powder from the horn on his belt and stuffing in a lead ball.
This thing isn't that good in hand to hand.
Loading Musket
Diplomacy- [roll0]
Have mercy on me in this next fight o' great gods of dice...

[Somensjev]

briar looks at his present company and lifts up his quarterstaff "we might want to draw our weapons, they're getting closer"

yeah, i didn't expect to hear much :smallsigh: i'm still waiting to roll higher than a 10. although, i guess i did get in the 20's, just

i was going to see if i had a useful spell, but i won't be able to do much spell wise until they come within eyesight

[Sir Grave]

I understand your hesitance but I do much better at longer range.
Oren hefty his rifle to his shoulder, pouring in some powder from the horn on his belt and stuffing in a lead ball.
This thing isn't that good in hand to hand.
Loading Musket
Diplomacy- [roll0]
Have mercy on me in this next fight o' great gods of dice...

"Then you'll seek cover behind one of our barricades for a first volley, gunman."

[czieg]

"Then you'll seek cover behind one of our barricades for a first volley, gunman."

Oren raises an eyebrow at this.
Are you actually trying to get us get killed? *sigh*
Oren takes cover behind a barricade, ready to fire at the first zombie that comes in range.
If something happens to change my desicion, I'll edit this, otherwise- Readying an action to shoot the first enemy to come in 120 ft (2 range increments)
Attack roll- 1d20+8-2
Damage- [roll0] myth-weavers crashed on me and I don't remember if my dex modifier is +3 or +4. If it is +4, add one more to my damage.
Thanks to my various bonuses, reload is a swift action for me, so I reload at the end of my turn.

[Somensjev]

Briar looks around at his allies and puts his quarterstaff away. He starts to prepare a spell


i'm readying an action to cast a spell on the 2nd enemy that comes within 100ft of me

a briar web (http://dndtools.eu/spells/complete-divine--56/briar-web--733/) aimed towards that enemy, preferably catching as many enemies as possible, if they're close enough to each other

[Vhaidara]

Spiker also positions herself behind the barricade, and readies her tail to snap forward as soon as enemies come in range.

Readying to chuck spikes at the first enemy within 30ft.
Attack 1: [roll0]
Crit confirm: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Crit Damage: [roll3]
Attack 2: [roll4]
Crit confirm: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Crit Damage: [roll7]
Attack 3: [roll8]
Crit confirm: [roll9]
Damage: [roll10]
Crit Damage: [roll11]
And you should probably post the combat map. I just looked at it, and it matters.

[Sir Grave]

You all have mayebe three rounds before combat actually begins, positioning yourself and readying actions is allowed.

The sound of ghastly groaning grows louder, you cannot yet see them through the trees and the rain. Sorra's Knights ready their heavy crossbows in anticipation. "On my order..."

Halberd, the closest of the Watch, sees faint shadows moving from behind the treeline: shambling figures... And there are many... At least fifteen can be seen at the moment... They draw near...

"FIRE!"

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/17pgwMYP1ipZFfkTza0LZQI2FPjcX_zVuVzgpCx9CYus/edit#gid=0

Consider this a surprise round, gents.

[Sir Grave]

Malvin
Halberd
Oren
Briar
Lady Sorra
Cynric
Zombies
Kalim
Spiker
Knights

[Guard]

"I don't suppose your rooftop decoration is a live examplar?" Malvin asked Cynric as they were first made aware of the
threat approaching. "Ah well. I suppose we can't rely on divine intervention for everything." Already in motion, he began his stride to catch up with the warriors, the Lady and mr. Halberd, who'd made for the front ranks. Along the way, he uttered the chant and made the gestures that would provide the framework for his spell. It came into being as a glowing ball of red light, which he waved ahead of him towards Lady Sorra in a casual manner. It settled as a mantle across her shoulders, and she began to grow untill she'd reached an impressive twelve feet in height. Malvin caught up to her, and began tracing his hand in the air in a intricate patttern. As the spell neared completion, the pattern started to come into being, making out an etheral glowing sigil that hovered before him. A swift tap of Sorra's shoulder indicated the target, and the sigil drifted along to settle in chest height on her left side.
Malvin moved on to Halberd. He made the gestures, chanted, touched the plates of the warforged's shoulder, and for a brief second, nothing seemed to happen. Then red cords grew forth on the areas that served as muscle groups for the construct, glowing with a pulse of light.

Finally, as the approaching horde grew a bit too close for comfort, Malvin took a step back, and called up a semi-solid protective shell, reinforcing his coat over certain vital areas.
"Here they come."

OOC
Prep round 1: Follow the front liners as a move action. Cast Enlarge Person on Sorra as a standard action. Free action speech.
Prep round 2: Get adjecent to Sorra as a move action. Cast Protection from Evil on her as a standard action.
Prep round 3: Move to P10 behind Halberd as a move action. Cast Bull's strength on him as a standard.
Round 0 (surprise): 5' step back to P11 as a free action. Cast Mage Armor as a standard. Free action speech.

[Prehysterical]

Halberd looks over his shoulder and nods, the movement awkward from that angle. "Thanks."

Time to buy those archers some breathing room. Let's do this, Endbringer

Glaring at the zombie forward and to the right of him, Halberd thunders forward, Endbringer poised.

"I. Am. WARFORGED!" The blade swings in a deadly arc.
Charging to P5, +2 Attack, -2 AC (19 AC)
Attack Roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Sir Grave]

Halberd looks over his shoulder and nods, the movement awkward from that angle. "Thanks."

Time to buy those archers some breathing room. Let's do this, Endbringer

Glaring at the zombie forward and to the right of him, Halberd thunders forward, Endbringer poised.

"I. Am. WARFORGED!" The blade swings in a deadly arc.
Charging to P5, +2 Attack, -2 AC (19 AC)
Attack Roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Time to put some undead to rest, big guy.

Sir Cynric's readied action included a bless spell.]

The zombie doesn't even see you coming as you dash through the rain. As you shout your opening line, you swing with brutal accuracy at the walking corpse's chest. It staggers, barely holding on for dear unlife.

You not only receive bless, but Cynric has given your musket the magical descriptor.
And it's your turn.

[czieg]

OOC: first shot on Z1, hitting on touch AC
Fear my rifle, brainless scum!
Oren fired his musket and was reloaded, ready to fire another shot in the time it took Halberd to charge into his chosen target.
firing on Z1 if my first shot didn't drop him, otherwise on Z5
Attack- [roll0]
Damage- [roll1]

[Sir Grave]

OOC: first shot on Z1, hitting on touch AC
Fear my rifle, brainless scum!
Oren fired his musket and was reloaded, ready to fire another shot in the time it took Halberd to charge into his chosen target.
firing on Z1 if my first shot didn't drop him, otherwise on Z5
Attack- [roll0]
Damage- [roll1]

KRACKOW!

Your rifle spouts smoke as you fire. At first everyone thought lightning had stricken in the midst of the clearing, but they are then amazed that it in fact came from your weapon. The shot itself lands home into the zombie's shoulder, taking it's arm right off.
Cynric's eyes widened at the spectacle. "Great Gods!"

Your turn. 3 rounds of prep, including that spiderclimb spell, and then the surprise round.

[Somensjev]

Briar casts a strange spell on himself and moves towards the wall. He starts trying to climb it


round 1: standard action, cast climb walls (http://dndtools.eu/spells/spell-compendium--86/climb-walls--4025/), move action to get right up against the wall

round 2: move action to climb 1/2 of my move speed up the wall, second move action doing the same (moving 1/2 of my move speed imposes a -5 penalty)
[roll0]
[roll1]


round 3: if either of those two rolls succeeded, do the same actions
[roll2]
[roll3]

if the first two checks failed
standard action to cast bull's strength on Yin, my animal companion


From where he now stands briar starts casting another spell he aims it at one of the zombies, after casting his spell he looks at one of his birds while pointing to a zombie and saying something in a strange language


standard action cast briar web (http://dndtools.eu/spells/complete-divine--56/briar-web--733/http://dndtools.eu/spells/complete-divine--56/briar-web--733/) centered on Zombie 13, if possible, trying to entangle zombies 12, 14, and 15 as well

free action handle animal check to make Yin attack Zombie 6 (DC 10 to make it perform a trick it knows) [the command is in druidic]
[roll4]

[Sir Grave]

Briar casts a strange spell on himself and moves towards the wall. He starts trying to climb it


round 1: standard action, cast climb walls (http://dndtools.eu/spells/spell-compendium--86/climb-walls--4025/), move action to get right up against the wall

round 2: move action to climb 1/2 of my move speed up the wall, second move action doing the same (moving 1/2 of my move speed imposes a -5 penalty)
[roll0]
[roll1]


round 3: if either of those two rolls succeeded, do the same actions
[roll2]
[roll3]

if the first two checks failed
standard action to cast bull's strength on Yin, my animal companion


From where he now stands briar starts casting another spell he aims it at one of the zombies, after casting his spell he looks at one of his birds while pointing to a zombie and saying something in a strange language


standard action cast briar web (http://dndtools.eu/spells/complete-divine--56/briar-web--733/http://dndtools.eu/spells/complete-divine--56/briar-web--733/) centered on Zombie 13, if possible, trying to entangle zombies 12, 14, and 15 as well

free action handle animal check to make Yin attack Zombie 6 (DC 10 to make it perform a trick it knows) [the command is in druidic]
[roll4]


Even with the spell, you struggle to climb the wall... you slide several feet back down a couple of times before you even get there. Despite those fumbles, however, you manage to reach the top. You see the zombies as they pour in. You mutter to your bird of prey, which you think is right next to you, when you notice it's attacking a panicked squirrel. Sighing, you cast your spell...

Grasses, weeds, bushes, and even trees to grow thorns and then wrap, twist, and entwine about the zombies in the area in which you casted, holding them fast. They hardly notice their entanglement, trying to move anyway.

[Sir Grave]

Lady Sorra is startled at the change of height. She looks to Malvin, and nods. Then she barks more orders to the knights near the bodies. "Sentries! Move to protect the wizard! Cynric, start praying!"

"Yes, M'Lady!" He replies, beginning his prayer in Draconic. You all feel confident, feeling victory within your grasp. He then moves to Oren. Casts an incantation upon his rifle, and then to Spiker, doing the same to her spike tail. "As impressive as your weapons are, friends, they'll do you little good without certain... improvements."

You recognize the spells as Magic Weapon. and Cat's Grace.

He then draws his sword. "To battle! The unholy spawn of black magics will tremble at the roar of Bahamut's finest!"

As the zombies approach, Sorra charges fearlessly at the shambling horrors. "Taste the fang of a dragon, souless ones!" She brings her enlarged scimitar down on one of them...

Charging Z7
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
Her blade lands home on the base of the zombie's neck, sending rotten blood to the ground. It still stands, a gaping wound in it's neck.

Cynric quickly makes it over to Halberd. "Care for a change in perspective, Halberd?"
He casts another incantation, and Halberd grows to a height just a little taller than Sorra's. "There now. Aren't you a sight to behold!" He laughs.

Kalim, seeing little he can really steal from the undead, takes a spare crossbow to the Barricade where Oren is. He carefully aims his shot at one of the zombies...

rolling in the next post...

[Sir Grave]

Lady Sorra is startled at the change of height. She looks to Malvin, and nods. Then she barks more orders to the knights near the bodies. "Sentries! Move to protect the wizard! Cynric, start praying!"

"Yes, M'Lady!" He replies, beginning his prayer in Draconic. You all feel confident, feeling victory within your grasp. He then moves to Oren. Casts an incantation upon his rifle, and then to Spiker, doing the same to her spike tail. "As impressive as your weapons are, friends, they'll do you little good without certain... improvements."

You recognize the spell as Magic Weapon.

He then draws his sword. "To battle! The unholy spawn of black magics will tremble at the roar of Bahamut's finest!"

As the zombies approach, Sorra charges fearlessly at the shambling horrors. "Taste the fang of a dragon, souless ones!" She brings her enlarged scimitar down on one of them...

Charging Z7
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
Her blade lands home on the base of the zombie's neck, sending rotten blood to the ground. It still stands, a gaping wound in it's neck.

Cynric quickly makes it over to Halberd. "Care foor a change in perspective, Halberd?"
He casts another incantation, and Halberd grows to a height just a little taller than Sorra's. "There now. Aren't you a sight to behold!" He laughs.

Kalim, seeing little he can really steal from the undead, takes a spare crossbow to the Barricade where Oren is. He carefully aims his shot at one of the zombies...

rolling in the next post...

Kalim shooting Z1
[roll0]
[roll1]

[Sir Grave]

Action Point
[roll0]

Kalim's shot narrowly misses the zombies head. "Damn it."
You are enlarged. Make adjustments accordingly.
You were the target of Cat's Grace. Make adjustments accordingly. Also, your turn.
You have all been blessed. Make adjustments accordingly.

[Vhaidara]

Spiker feels the agility of the jungle's great predators surge into her, and her tail snaps forward, unleashing a volley of spikes at the closest zombie.

Attacking Z15
Attack 1: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Attack 2: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Attack 3: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

[Sir Grave]

Spiker feels the agility of the jungle's great predators surge into her, and her tail snaps forward, unleashing a volley of spikes at the closest zombie.

Attacking Z15
Attack 1: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Attack 2: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Attack 3: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

You fire your volley at an easy target: one of the zombies trapped in Briar's spell. Each spike impales the zombie dead on: two in the chest, one in the head. The spike to the head tears through to the other side of the zombie's skull, splattering it's brains. It ceases moving.

[Sir Grave]

The Knights guarding the bodies quickly move to the forward position, in front of Malvin. All Knights fire their crossbows at the undead...

[roll0] vs Z3 [roll1]
[roll2] vs Z3 [roll3]
[roll4] vs Z3 [roll5]
[roll6] vs Z3 [roll7]
[roll8] vs Z3 [roll9]
[roll10] vs Z3 [roll11]
[roll12] vs Z11 [roll13]
[roll14] vs Z11 [roll15]


Focusing fire on the zombies to the northwest, the shots fly and riddle one of the zombies with bolts. One ends up falling, lifeless. The two knights manning the right hand barricades fire on the untrapped zombie on the northeastern side. Both shots land home, but it still advances forward.

Surprise round over. Round 1 begins...

[Sir Grave]

Need perception checks from both of you.

[Sir Grave]

The two of you both notice it: Briar from your vantage point and Spiker with your keen senses. Behind the tree line, you see more movement. You hear more groaning. The mob you face now is just a first wave, and they will seek to overwhelm you in less than 10 seconds!
You will be able to warn the others on your turn.

Top of the round. Malvin's turn.

[Guard]

Malvin seldom regreted not having learned how to make things explode, but this was one of these few times. He could make people think they were blind, deaf and stupid, sure, but these things didn't think, so it was a moot point.

He might still provide some support, but for now his allies seemed to have things in hand, and so discretion was the better part of valor.
He kept an eye out for things attempting to jump him, and digged through his coat to find that wand he'd grabbed from his shop.
Total defense, AC is 18, draw wand of repair moderate damage.

[Sir Grave]

Adequetly described, Guard.
Halberd is up next.

[Yas392]

Kalim notices that "his" bolt is piddling to the sea of fast approaching zombies, quickly discards the crossbow that he procured and scours the fort for anything that could be of use against the undead forces. His allies may have something in their pocket. But he needs something bigger...He glances around...Hmmmm...


Spot - [roll0]
Listen - [roll1]

[czieg]

Mentally scolding himself for missing the zombie's head, Oren lined up another shot at the nearest zombie.
Attack- [roll0]
Damage- [roll1]

[Prehysterical]

Suddenly much taller than the surrounding zombies, Halberd looks down disapprovingly on the undead horde. As tempting as it is to just start striking indiscriminately, Halberd's discipline holds him in check. Only turn your back on an unmoving corpse. One at a time.

With that thought, he swings to finish off the zombie he had charged.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Sir Grave]

Suddenly much taller than the surrounding zombies, Halberd looks down disapprovingly on the undead horde. As tempting as it is to just start striking indiscriminately, Halberd's discipline holds him in check. Only turn your back on an unmoving corpse. One at a time.

With that thought, he swings to finish off the zombie he had charged.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

You take Endbringer and bury it into the zombie's stomache, lift it off of the ground and flip it over yous shoulder. Still moving, though prone, you lift your heavy metal foot and crush it's skull, ending it's shambling days.



Mentally scolding himself for missing the zombie's head, Oren lined up another shot at the nearest zombie.
Attack- [roll0]
Damage- [roll1]

You aim for the zombie you attacked before, this time sure that you'll fell him. Krackow!
When the smoke clears from your shot, you notice that it's right eye is now missing. It falls, dead again.

You're up.

[Somensjev]

Briar cups his hands over his mouth "Be ready everyone, there's more of them coming soon!"

he turns to one of his birds and spends a while seemingly issuing it orders
he then turns the the other one, sighing, and starts talking to it while it terrorizes a squirrel


free action to talk

full-round for a handle animal check (DC25)
[roll0]

free action for a handle animal check, involving my animal companion (DC10)
[roll1]

[Sir Grave]

Briar, you attempt to command your other bird, however, the command is confused through the noise of the rain. You groan, look at the bird whos chasing rodents, and shout "HEY!" The bird stops, squawking it's protestation. You give it "the look," and it complies, flying back to you.

[Sir Grave]

Lady Sorra, hearing Briar's warning quickens the pace of her attack. She moves shoulder to shoulder with Halberd and makes two quick attacks against the zombie in front of him, and then using her momentum, cleaves at the zombie she just attacked.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
Cleave attempt [roll6]
[roll7]
[roll8]

In one fluid motion, the two zombies fall, in pieces.
Turning to her knights, she points her blade to the zombies in the northeast. "Knights! CHARGE!"

[Sir Grave]

Cynric quickly switched to the offensive, casting a quick incantation. "Second wave? Then these abominations won't do at all." He then moved to Halberd's right, and muttered another incantation. He pointed at his targets, and fiery rays shot from his fingers.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

Both of the undead are engulfed in flames, literally being reduced to ashes. They crumple to the earth.

[Vhaidara]

Getting this out of the way now, since I'm about to go offline for 3-3.5 hours and it's almost my turn

Spiker unleashes another volley at the next zombie, waiting to see if it drops before moving.

Attacking Z13
Attack 1: [roll0]
Damage 1: [roll1]
Attack 2: [roll2]
Damage 2: [roll3]
Attack 3: [roll4]
Damage 3: [roll5]
if he drops, move to O12

[Sir Grave]

The zombies to the northeast all advance, hungry for flesh. On charges at Sorra with it's club, but she is prepared, swinging her scimitar at the opportunity...
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

It's head flies clear into the treeline as the body falls.

The zombies to the north west attempt to advance forward, further injuring themselves and becoming more entangled in the process.
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]

[Sir Grave]

Kalim notices that "his" bolt is piddling to the sea of fast approaching zombies, quickly discards the crossbow that he procured and scours the fort for anything that could be of use against the undead forces. His allies may have something in their pocket. But he needs something bigger...He glances around...Hmmmm...


Spot - [roll0]
Listen - [roll1]


You look around, finding no siege engines, unless you count the dragon. Pulling out a precious stone, you wave it in the air at it, getting no reaction from it. Damn it, dragon! What good are you if you just sit there... You stop in mid thought, and notice: parts of it's scales are decaying, and it's eyes are darkened. You also notice that the sky has taken a darker tone: unnaturally so.
You move on to your basic need. You need to find something. Any thing at all! You search the ground, seeing a few bags of alchemist fire, and not much else...
Until finally, something near the dead bodies catches your eye... a wand. You wonder what it does...



Getting this out of the way now, since I'm about to go offline for 3-3.5 hours and it's almost my turn

Spiker unleashes another volley at the next zombie, waiting to see if it drops before moving.

Attacking Z13
Attack 1: [roll0]
Damage 1: [roll1]
Attack 2: [roll2]
Damage 2: [roll3]
Attack 3: [roll4]
Damage 3: [roll5]
if he drops, move to O12

You throw another volley of deadly spikes at your target as they hopelessly struggle against the ever-growing plant life, which is tearing them apart. They all land home, one of them impales deep into the zombie's mouth and into it's brain. Another good kill...

[Sir Grave]

The knights on the front line all drop their crossbows and draw their swords, issuing a mighty roar against the zombies. They move, however only one can get an attack in...

[roll0]
[roll1]

...and manages a good hit into the base of it's neck. It still stands, however.

The knights manning the barricade open fire again...

[roll2] vs Z4
[roll3]
[roll4] vs Z4
[roll5]
[roll6] vs Z12
[roll7]
[roll8] vs Z12
[roll9]

...the volley barely makes a dent in their advance.

[Sir Grave]

Karnathi Skeletons [roll0]
Karnathi Zombies [roll1]

The second wave pours in, but these ones are... different. They are well armed, they have better reflexes than their shambling kin, and their tactics are well coordinated. One of the dual-wielding skeletons points his blade at you all. "Your lizard God has abandoned you, canned meats!!"

You know these horrors: they are karnath's undead warriors, probably left in the mournlands after the war.

Top of the round. Malvin, you're up.

[Yas392]

****! Just what we need. More walking dead! Kalim's body is reactive as he scoops up the fallen assortments of alchemist fire, groaning. What kind of dragon do they keep in this fort if it would not accept a tribute and burn them all? Damn it all! His expression lights up with a mischievous glint as he finagles with the object he fished up then point the wand at the incoming enemies. Why hello there! What can you do?


Use Magic Device - [roll0]

[czieg]

OOC: My turn soon so...
Headshot, you crazy undead meatbags!
Oren's hands move at a blurring speed, his hands driving another lead pellet down the barrel of his musket. Oren points his rifle at one of the zombies standing farther away from him, leaving the closer one to the knights.
Shooting at Z4 after reloading
Attack- [roll0]
Damage- [roll1]

[Prehysterical]

Looking down at the zombie in front of him, Halberd replies, "The war is over, Sparkless! And so are you!" Endbringer whistles at its new target.
5 foot step to O3-P3
Attack Roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Guard]

Malvin looked around, taking in the new arrivals. Deciding that they would be much more dangerous than the previous cannon fodder, he scanned through his mind for the only spell he'd brought along that was likely to work on the walking dead. An incantation and a wave of his hand brought down an explosion of, well, glitter, down on the skeletal troops preparing to overrun the western barricade.

Malvin moved to get some distance and a barricade between himself and the approaching hordes. He really should have prepared something else than sprays of shadow this morning.

A low oath escapes him as one of the undead directed the others to attack him. They were sentient, apparently. He filed that information away for later use.
Casting glitterdust, positioning it to hit KS1, KS2 & KZ1. Will DC 18 or be blinded for 4 rounds. Invisible stuff in the square from C3 to F6 are outlined.
Moving to S11.

[Sir Grave]

Malvin looked around, taking in the new arrivals. Deciding that they would be much more dangerous than the previous cannon fodder, he scanned through his mind for the only spell he'd brought along that was likely to work on the walking dead. An incantation and a wave of his hand brought down an explosion of, well, glitter, down on the skeletal troops preparing to overrun the western barricade.

Malvin moved to get some distance and a barricade between himself and the approaching hordes. He really should have prepared something else than sprays of shadow this morning.
Casting glitterdust, positioning it to hit KS1, KS2 & KZ1. Will DC 18 or be blinded for 4 rounds. Invisible stuff in the square from C3 to F6 are outlined.
Moving to S11.

KS1 [roll0]
KS2[roll1]
KZ1[roll2]

The glitter falls upon the three undead soldiers, and they stop dead in their tracks. They all try to shake it off, but it's no use. The undead look around frantically, one of them gestures forward. "A mage! KILL THE MAGE!"


Looking down at the zombie in front of him, Halberd replies, "The war is over, Sparkless! And so are you!" Endbringer whistles at its new target.
5 foot step to O3-P3
Attack Roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

You swing down with your blade, hoping to split the armored zombie in two. However, it simply steps a foot to the right and raises it's light shield high. The sword glances off of it, a skillful parry.

"Halberd... This Storm... it's the same one from the Mournlands!


OOC: My turn soon so...
Headshot, you crazy undead meatbags!
Oren's hands move at a blurring speed, his hands driving another lead pellet down the barrel of his musket. Oren points his rifle at one of the zombies standing farther away from him, leaving the closer one to the knights.
Shooting at Z4 after reloading
Attack- [roll0]
Damage- [roll1]

You fire again (KRAKOW!) taking off a huge chunk of the zombie's rib cage. It turns it's attention towards you.

Briar, it's your turn.

[Somensjev]

Briar looks back at his birds, sighing. Let's try this one more time.


free action to make my animal companion attack KZ3
[roll0]

full round action to make the other bird attack KS4
[roll1]

[Sir Grave]

Briar looks back at his birds, sighing. Let's try this one more time.


free action to make my animal companion attack KZ3
[roll0]

full round action to make the other bird attack KS4
[roll1]


Your hawk is still confused. Your eagle, however, understands, and swoops down for it's prey. It flies over Halberd's massive shoulder and strikes for the zombie's head.

Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]

The zombie, however, instinctively moves it's head to the side, your eagle swooping past it. It comes back around, above Halberd.

[Sir Grave]

Following Halberd's example, Sorra takes a few steps forward and makes two attacks against the skeleton warrior in front of her...
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]


The skeleton sees the attacks coming, skillfully parrying both swings with it's two scimitars. Halberd isn't surprised... These are Karnath's finest soldiers.

[Sir Grave]

Cynric see's more undead pouring in. "Ah, now it's a party!" He quickly muttered a word, hurling three magical bolts of energy at the skeleton, each hitting home at their target. He then charges it with his sword, which becomes wreathed in flames. He attacks...


Charge [roll0]
Damage[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3] Action Point Spent

Cynric buries his sword deep into the skeleton's rib cage, and then twists. The motion dismembers it's spine. It falls.

[Sir Grave]

The blind skeletons stumble forward towards the keep, aimlessly.
KS1 [roll0]
KS2[roll1]
KZ1[roll2]

The others, however, pick their targets and attack. "HAHAHAHAHA!"

KZ2[roll3]
[roll4]
KS3[roll5]
[roll6]
KS4[roll7] & [roll8]
[roll9] & [roll10]
KZ3[roll11]
[roll12]
KZ4[roll13]
[roll14]
KS6[roll15]
[roll16]

The two undead from the north west charge at the knights, ferociously killing one and leaving the other heavily wounded (Kn1). The three undead warriors on Lady Sorra, Halberd and Cynric attack, Sorra skillfully parrying, Halberd allowing the zombie's sword to glance off your armor plating, and Cynric simply side stepping the attack.
The Knight next to Malvin falls on the receiving end of a charge attack, he quickly ducks the skeleton's swinging arc.

[Sir Grave]

The remaining cannon fodder zombies advance and attack.

Z2 [roll0]
[roll1]
Z4[roll2]
[roll3]
Z5[roll4]
[roll5]

One of them bites the wounded knight in the neck, seeing weakness. The zombie rips his throat, and the knight slumps forward, dead.
The two others advance for Kalim. One swipe at Kalim with his club, Kalim ducks. The other, however, slams into Kalim's shoulder.

You take 2 damage

The two remaining zombies under Briar's spell finally succumb to the inevitable, ripped to pieces by the plant life.

[Sir Grave]

****! Just what we need. More walking dead! Kalim's body is reactive as he scoops up the fallen assortments of alchemist fire, groaning. What kind of dragon do they keep in this fort if it would not accept a tribute and burn them all? Damn it all! His expression lights up with a mischievous glint as he finagles with the object he fished up then point the wand at the incoming enemies. Why hello there! What can you do?


Use Magic Device - [roll0]


Spenddiing an action point on your behalf, I'm sure you want this to work.
[roll0]

[Sir Grave]

Spenddiing an action point on your behalf, I'm sure you want this to work.
[roll0]

The tip of your wand flickers with flames, and two rays of fire- similar to the rays that Cynric used- erupt from it. The two zombies take their attacks of opportunity...

Z2[roll0]
[roll1]
Z4[roll2]
[roll3]

They miss horribly, as your fiery rays fly...

Ranged touch attack 1[roll4][roll5]
& 2 [roll6][roll7]

... searing through the two undead. They crumple to a burning crisp.

Spiker, it's your turn.

[Vhaidara]

Spiker steps to the side to get a clearer shot, and launches yet another volley of spikes at one of the zombies.

5ft step to P13, Attack KZ5
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

[Sir Grave]

Spiker steps to the side to get a clearer shot, and launches yet another volley of spikes at one of the zombies.

5ft step to P13, Attack KZ5
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

You throw another volley, this time you manage to impale it in both of it's eyes. It falls backwards, motionless.

[Sir Grave]

Ranged
Kn[roll0]
[roll1]
Kn[roll2]
[roll3]
Kn[roll4]
[roll5]
Melee
Kn [roll6]
[roll7]
Kn[roll8]
[roll9]
Kn[roll10]
[roll11]

The knights still unengaged by undead open fire on the newcomers: all miss. These undead warriors seem highly skilled in evading volleys... Spiker as an exception.

The knights in melee with the last first wave zombie attack: one was simply distracting it as the other impaled it in the mouth. The zombie falls.

The Knight next to Malvin drops his crossbow and draws his sword, slashing at the skeleton. He lays a good mark across the skeleton's skull, though nothing serious.

Top of the round. Malvin?

[Guard]

It was getting a bit hotter than Malvin appreciated. He put some distance between himself and the knight who'd just drawn his sword to engage the incoming skeleton.
He swore under his breath again, this was getting ugly, already more than a few people had been felled.
He was all out of feasible spells - there was a trick he knew, though he didn't use it often.

Magic is prefers to be magic. That's why fashioning it into spells is so hard - it takes hours of preparation, and years upon years of study just to prepare the merest of spells, bending magic into the desired shape.
Casting a spell is easy, hardly takes any time. That's because you're not telling the magic to be anything, you're releasing the spell into it's original state - magic.

He already had the framework for the spell he needed done, it was just empty of magic. He reached out with his mind, feeling for the energy in the world around him, and, once he grabbed onto it, gave a slight tug. It came flowing into his mind like a searing snake of liquid steel. He ground his teeth as he guided it into the spellwork. For a fraction of a second, he seemed to lose it, but then it settled into the spell, giving one last discontent wiggle.

The casting came as a relief after that. A chant, a finger-drawn sigil, and a pointing at the undead who were about to tear into the left-flank knights, and it was done.

Moving to R15.
Free action using an action point to recall Glitterdust.
Casting it, targetting KZ2 and KS3. They need to make a will-save DC 18 or be blinded.

[Prehysterical]

Halberd recovers the momentum of his deflected swing and winds up for another strike, determined now to put down these undead warriors before they reach the archers' ranks.
Swing at KZ3
Attack Roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Sir Grave]

It was getting a bit hotter than Malvin appreciated. He put some distance between himself and the knight who'd just drawn his sword to engage the incoming skeleton.
He swore under his breath again, this was getting ugly, already more than a few people had been felled.
He was all out of feasible spells - there was a trick he knew, though he didn't use it often.

Magic is prefers to be magic. That's why fashioning it into spells is so hard - it takes hours of preparation, and years upon years of study just to prepare the merest of spells, bending magic into the desired shape.
Casting a spell is easy, hardly takes any time. That's because you're not telling the magic to be anything, you're releasing the spell into it's original state - magic.

He already had the framework for the spell he needed done, it was just empty of magic. He reached out with his mind, feeling for the energy in the world around him, and, once he grabbed onto it, gave a slight tug. It came flowing into his mind like a searing snake of liquid steel. He ground his teeth as he guided it into the spellwork. For a fraction of a second, he seemed to lose it, but then it settled into the spell, giving one last discontent wiggle.

The casting came as a relief after that. A chant, a finger-drawn sigil, and a pointing at the undead who were about to tear into the left-flank knights, and it was done.

Moving to R15.
Free action using an action point to recall Glitterdust.
Casting it, targetting KZ2 and KS3. They need to make a will-save DC 18 or be blinded.

KZ2[roll0]
KS3[roll1]
More glitter falls upon another pair of undead, and they glance wildly around as the previous recipients of the spell did. "WHY IS THAT WIZARD NOT DEAD YET?!"

Halberd recovers the momentum of his deflected swing and winds up for another strike, determined now to put down these undead warriors before they reach the archers' ranks.
Swing at KZ3
Attack Roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Halberd spins in a 360 degree arc, coming back with a counter attack. The zombie warrior was not prepared to the swiftness of Halberd's response, evidently, as it's head flies clean off of it's neck. It falls.

[Sir Grave]

Oren has already prepared another bullet. "GETTING TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT, HERE!" He shouts, firing his musket at One of the blind skeletons...

Attack[roll0]
Damage[roll1]

CLICK!

"Huh?"

Confused as his rifle did not fire, he checked the gunpowder within. It was unfortunately, exposed to rain. "DAMN IT ALL!"

[Somensjev]

Briar sighs once more and turns to his hawk "let's see if you'll understand this time"

After issuing orders to his hawk, he turns his attention to the battlefield, pointing to the same undead and issuing more orders at his eagle


full-round to make the hawk attack KS4 (DC 25)
[roll0]

free action to make the eagle attack KS4 (DC10)
[roll1]

[Yas392]

Sweet! This may come in handy for future uses. Kalim shelves away the wand that shoots fiery lines at people. Hearing someone screaming for the mage's blood for the third time that could blow your ears off, it is not safe to say the thief motivation peaks. Moving to a nearby barricade very quietly, he focuses on the voice and the direction where it came from.


Is Kalim beside Oren and the knight when he picked up those items?
Going to double move if he is off-position.
Move action to sheathe wand.
Move action to move back to Original Position/nearest barricade.
If not, readied action to double move closer to the source of the noise and hide behind a shadow if he knows where it is coming from.

Spot - [roll0]
Listen - [roll1]

If he moves...
Hide - [roll2]
Move Silently - [roll3]

[Sir Grave]

Briar sighs once more and turns to his hawk "let's see if you'll understand this time"

After issuing orders to his hawk, he turns his attention to the battlefield, pointing to the same undead and issuing more orders at his eagle


full-round to make the hawk attack KS4 (DC 25)
[roll0]

free action to make the eagle attack KS4 (DC10)
[roll1]


I am so sorry. The Forum dice roller must really hate you.:smalltongue:

Your hawk stares at you as you command him for the third time, this time he actually seems to be paying attention. It's attention is then interrupted by a small bird as it flies through the rain. You roll your eyes, and you face-palm to express frustration.

The eagle moves on to it's next target, diving in for the kill...

[roll0]
[roll1]

Although the eagle tries to take advantage of the skeleton's focus on Lady Sorra, the skeleton sees the attack coming. It swings it's scimitar at the bird, forcing the bird to change direction.

[Sir Grave]

Sorra, taking advantage of the eagle providing a distraction, gave a mighty battle cry as she gave two arcs with her blade against the skeleton...
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]


The first blow completely shatters the skeleton's shoulder blade, sending it's arm to the ground. The other completely cleaves it's skull into pieces. It slumps over, motionless.

[Sir Grave]

Cynric glared at the zombie, taking a few steps back. "ENOUGH! You cannot overwhelm us, creature!" He outstretched his hand, muttered another incantation, and sent two more rays of fire at his new target...

AP spent
Ranged touch [roll0]
Damage[roll1]
Ranged touch [roll2]
Damage[roll3]

The rays set it alight, burning away it's flesh. Before it falls, it gives a brief, guttural laugh. "...Overwhelm... You do not know what it means for us to overwhelm you..." It dies, so to speak.

The black sky lights up...

[Sir Grave]

KRACKADOOM!!!!

Without warning, a bolt of lightning strikes the bodies of the knight corpses behind the barricades. Those who manage to glance at it as it struck see that it's a bolt of unnatural energy: ebon, and negative. It leaves a dark fog around the lines of corpses... And they slowly rise...

The undead warriors give a loud, horendous battle cry. "SURRENDER TO DEATH, WEAKLINGS!" They continue on the attack...
KS2&[roll1]
[roll2]&1d6+1 [roll4]
KZ2 [roll5]
[roll6][roll7]
KS6[roll8]&[roll9]
[roll10]&1d6+1
They literally fight blindly against their foes, another knight takes a severe wound...It matters little that they survive, as they know they have the advantage...

[Sir Grave]

Sweet! This may come in handy for future uses. Kalim shelves away the wand that shoots fiery lines at people. Hearing someone screaming for the mage's blood for the third time that could blow your ears off, it is not safe to say the thief motivation peaks. Moving to a nearby barricade very quietly, he focuses on the voice and the direction where it came from.


Is Kalim beside Oren and the knight when he picked up those items?
Going to double move if he is off-position.
Move action to sheathe wand.
Move action to move back to Original Position/nearest barricade.
If not, readied action to double move closer to the source of the noise and hide behind a shadow if he knows where it is coming from.

Spot - [roll0]
Listen - [roll1]

If he moves...
Hide - [roll2]
Move Silently - [roll3]


Kalim, you are sheathing your wand as the lightning strikes. Turning around, your eyes widen as you see a whole new horde of armored zombies behind you. They haven't noticed you yet, you take the opportunity to sneak towards the barricade further back.

[Vhaidara]

Spiker curses, seeing the new horde of zombie rising. Still, there were bigger problems. She moved forward and launched another barrage of deadly spikes at one of the skeletons.

Move to O11, attacking KS3
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

[Sir Grave]

Spiker curses, seeing the new horde of zombie rising. Still, there were bigger problems. She moved forward and launched another barrage of deadly spikes at one of the skeletons.

Move to O11, attacking KS3
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

You send another hail of spikey death at another skeleton, however, in your rush to kill as many of these unholy spawn as possible, only one manages to hit. It still stands.

[Sir Grave]

The knights move to new strategic positions, frantically. "WE ARE OVERRUN! PROTECT THE KEEP!"
[roll0] [roll1]
[roll2] [roll3]
[roll4] [roll5]
[roll6] [roll7]

They fight with all of their strength, even getting in a few good hits... but they know their doom is certain...

[Sir Grave]

[roll0]
AP [roll1]

Suddenly, the doors to the keep open... everyone feels positive energy emanating from the entrance. A man, armored in what could only be described as the shiniest scale mail you have ever seen, slowly walks out into the open, sword drawn. He looks as though he's seen better days... his eyes are darkened, his flesh is marred, slightly, and looks exhausted. He looks up at the scene, displeased.

Malvi's turn

[Guard]

Malvin takes stock of the battlefield; they were in trouble. Still, the new arrival, the Vassal, he presumed, looked like he might handily take care of it.

Nevertheless, he made his way across the battlefield, intercepting the vassal, all the while calling up a spell to warp space. With a crackling of sound and a flash of light, Oren swapped places with Halberd.

Moving to N11 and casting Benign Transportation to swap Oren and Halberd's places.

[Sir Grave]

Malvin takes stock of the battlefield; they were in trouble. Still, the new arrival, the Vassal, he presumed, looked like he might handily take care of it.

Nevertheless, he made his way across the battlefield, intercepting the vassal, all the while calling up a spell to warp space. With a crackling of sound and a flash of light, Oren swapped places with Halberd.

Moving to N11 and casting Benign Transportation to swap Oren and Halberd's places.

You move and mutter an incantation, which seemingly does nothing at first, until you notice that Oren is now clear and away from the danger and Halberd now faces the new mob of zombies. They both look confused.

[Sir Grave]

Halberd, head shaking from the sudden relocation, is blurry eyed. His vision clears, revealing a massive gathering of undead, who take notice to him. They begin to advance towards him.
The warforged pointed Endbringer at the horde. "Come on! COME ON! I'll plant all of you into the ground!" He rushes forward, attacking the first zombie in their ranks...

Attacking Z4
[roll0]
[roll1]

He stabs one of the zombies in the chest, lifts it into the air, and hurls it to the side, sending the slain zombie to the side. It falls at the Vassal's feet.

[Sir Grave]

Halberd, head shaking from the sudden relocation, is blurry eyed. His vision clears, revealing a massive gathering of undead, who take notice to him. They begin to advance towards him.
The warforged pointed Endbringer at the horde. "Come on! COME ON! I'll plant all of you into the ground!" He rushes forward, attacking the first zombie in their ranks...

Attacking Z4
[roll0]
[roll1]

He stabs one of the zombies in the chest, lifts it into the air, and hurls it to the side, sending the slain zombie to the side. It falls at the Vassal's feet.

Vassal Grave sees the zombie at his feet, staring at it's face. He knew this man. He watched him fall in battle. And to see him defiled by necromancy, he gritted his teeth.

"No."

His sword ignited in blue flame. He wrapped it's blade with his platinum holy symbol. "No more bloodshed."

He held his sword high. "THIS ENDS NOW!"

From his sword, a wave of positive energy exploded forth across the battlefield, passing all of the combatants. Those living (or more importantly, not dead) feel nothing, and are unaffected. The undead however, scream.

Targeting15d4HD worth of undead in a 100ft radius burst. Will save DC28
z1[roll0]
z2[roll1]
z3[roll2]
z4[roll3]
z5[roll4]
z6[roll5]
z7[roll6]
z8[roll7]
z9[roll8]
z10[roll9]
z11[roll10]
z12[roll11]
z13[roll12]
z14[roll13]
z17[roll14]
z16[roll15]
z17[roll16]
z18[roll17]
z19[roll18]
z20[roll19]
z21[roll20]
z22[roll21]
KS1[roll22]
KS2[roll23]
KS6[roll24]
KZ1[roll25]
KZ2[roll26]

The undead... all of them... become engulfed in a blue flame that saps out whatever holds them together. The negative energy returns to the ebon skies, which seem to retreat to the northeast, leaving only distant thunder and pouring rain. The bodies of the attacking undead all fall to the earth, dead again.

The Vassal lowers his blade. He coughs, bleeding from the mouth, and he slumps over, kneeling.

Sorra watches, terrified, and rushes to him. "GRAVE!"

[Vhaidara]

Spiker looks at the Vassal.
So, this is our employer. Took long enough.

[Sir Grave]

Lady Sorra has shrunken down back to normal size by the time she gets to him. "Grave. Are you alright?"

The Vassal recovers, solemnly looking at the dead knight before him. He closes the knight's eyes. "...I'm failing Sorra," he said, quietly. "...I'm failing you all..."

"No. You saved us. Had it not been for you, we would be overrun."

Grave struggled to stand. Sorra helped him. "I did not save you. This is merely a reprieve. They will return. We must act, and quickly."

He looked to the dragon above the tower, and, finally, the dragon looked down. They converse with one another in draconic.

Grave:"Namhias. I need one of your wards.Provide us sanctuary."
Dragon:"Our fates are bound, Saintly One. Should I be taken by the darkness that has befallen us, you will die as well.
Grave: Please, Namhias. These people have suffered enough. Let us share some of their burden.
Dragon: Our burden is already strong enough, Wyrmslayer. But very well. Sanctuary is given.
Grave: Thank you.

The dragon, roaring and flapping it's wings, gestures with it's front claws, and a powerful energy crackles around the keep. It carves draconic runes upon the ground, surrounding the area. Grave holds his head, in pain. He recovers, once again, and looks at the rest of you.

"You..." he says. "You helped defend ourselves, this day. You have my thanks. Had you not intervened, many more would have surely been killed."
Thunder rumbles once more in the distance. "We should all get inside. We have much to discuss."

[czieg]

OOC: posting shall be sporadic, but I'm here!

When Oren pops in where Halberd once was, part of the wrapping around Oren's face drops to reveal a massive burn scar on the right side of his face, he quickly pulls it back up the wrappings. Still slightly confused by his sudden trade of places with Halberd, Oren tinkers with his rifle for a moment before smacking roughly. Seemingly satisfied he fixed the jam, Oren turned to the Vassal.
Thank you for your assistance Lord Vassal. I doubt we could have held the line much longer. If I may ask, what did you just say to the dragon and what is it doing now?
use Quick Clear deed, cost one grit point, 2 left.

[Prehysterical]

Sensing that the battle is over, Halberd wills himself to reduce in size and dismiss the magical strength granted to him. While he is not familiar with how the magic exactly works, he has seen them applied enough in the war to know that they can be removed at will.

Surveying all the dead bodies around, and the creeping storm fleeing the area, Halberd turns around slowly. His metal fist angrily grips Endbringer, actually shaking. Cold blue eyes regard the dragon atop the keep. Not a statue, after all.

"You could have helped," he said quietly.

Taking a step forward, he points a finger at the dragon. "I saw your kind fight in the war. You could have annihilated this entire force by yourself, with tooth and claw and magic breath. And yet there you sat, doing nothing." The last word is spat out, as though it were a curse. Halberd's arms open wide, encompassing the carnage around them.

"Good men, good soldiers, have died today and you could have prevented their deaths. Why?!" The warforged words echo metallically off the keep's walls.
I will update Halberd's stats tomorrow. A thunder storm is getting a little too close for comfort for my laptop.

[Guard]

Looking over the bodies of the recently and not so recently slaughtered knights, Malvin couldn't help but agree with Halberd. Still, it would not do to anger their hosts. There had to be other facets to the situation, the Vassal and Namhias' conversation hinted as much.
He made his way over to the righteous warforged. "I'm sure there's a bigger picture here. If Namhias' hands weren't tied, he would of course have done everything in his power to protect these men. Let us follow sir Grave, hear what he has to say."

Malvin wondered what this task they were about to be given would contain. If it was something within their power to achieve, sir Cynric alone should have been able to handle it, if he took care and prepared himself properly, not to speak of what he and lady Sorra could achieve in concert, although perhaps she was sorely needed here, defending the keep.
This organization obviously commands impressive resources within their ranks. Why do they need us? Perhaps their manpower is indeed tied up here. Perhaps the task their wish fulfilled is something they can't afford to be seen as doing.

[Sir Grave]

OOC: posting shall be sporadic, but I'm here!

When Oren pops in where Halberd once was, part of the wrapping around Oren's face drops to reveal a massive burn scar on the right side of his face, he quickly pulls it back up the wrappings. Still slightly confused by his sudden trade of places with Halberd, Oren tinkers with his rifle for a moment before smacking roughly. Seemingly satisfied he fixed the jam, Oren turned to the Vassal.
Thank you for your assistance Lord Vassal. I doubt we could have held the line much longer. If I may ask, what did you just say to the dragon and what is it doing now?
use Quick Clear deed, cost one grit point, 2 left.

The Vassal took his time before speaking, trying to be clear through his tiredness. "Namhias... is a Sacred Warder of Bahamut. I requested that he provide us sanctuary for a night. We all need to recuperate... to rest... from this ordeal..."


Sensing that the battle is over, Halberd wills himself to reduce in size and dismiss the magical strength granted to him. While he is not familiar with how the magic exactly works, he has seen them applied enough in the war to know that they can be removed at will.

Surveying all the dead bodies around, and the creeping storm fleeing the area, Halberd turns around slowly. His metal fist angrily grips Endbringer, actually shaking. Cold blue eyes regard the dragon atop the keep. Not a statue, after all.

"You could have helped," he said quietly.

Taking a step forward, he points a finger at the dragon. "I saw your kind fight in the war. You could have annihilated this entire force by yourself, with tooth and claw and magic breath. And yet there you sat, doing nothing." The last word is spat out, as though it were a curse. Halberd's arms open wide, encompassing the carnage around them.

"Good men, good soldiers, have died today and you could have prevented their deaths. Why?!" The warforged words echo metallically off the keep's walls.
I will update Halberd's stats tomorrow. A thunder storm is getting a little too close for comfort for my laptop.


Looking over the bodies of the recently and not so recently slaughtered knights, Malvin couldn't help but agree with Halberd. Still, it would not do to anger their hosts. There had to be other facets to the situation, the Vassal and Namhias' conversation hinted as much.
He made his way over to the righteous warforged. "I'm sure there's a bigger picture here. If Namhias' hands weren't tied, he would of course have done everything in his power to protect these men. Let us follow sir Grave, hear what he has to say."

Malvin wondered what this task they were about to be given would contain. If it was something within their power to achieve, sir Cynric alone should have been able to handle it, if he took care and prepared himself properly, not to speak of what he and lady Sorra could achieve in concert, although perhaps she was sorely needed here, defending the keep.
This organization obviously commands impressive resources within their ranks. Why do they need us? Perhaps their manpower is indeed tied up here. Perhaps the task their wish fulfilled is something they can't afford to be seen as doing.

The dragon, surprisingly, acknowledges Halberd's presence, though he doesn't speak, at first. He gives a low, agonized growl as blood drips from his maw... his blood. He studies the warforged for a good long while, as Malvin speaks, finally muttering two draconic words, "Ithquent sventlin..."

He wipes the blood with his front claw. "If you are truly the wielder of that blade, Kovgam Arytiss, you will know the answer, in time." He continues to stare to the north, where the storm fled.


Ithquent sventlin: God Slayer
Kovgam Arytiss: Metal Warrior

Sir Cynric returned from healing one of the wounded knights, putting his hand on Halberd's shoulder. "A compassionate warrior must always heed the words," he looked at Malvin, "of a wise companion. Come. We must not keep the Vassal waiting."

If anyone has any objections to going into the keep, let me know. Otherwise, I'll just assume you all follow the Vassal inside.

You enter the keep, which beholds the Vassal's hall. You really can't tell how large it is, however, as it is currently crowded with peoples of all shapes and sizes: merchants, travelers, beggars, families... all here under the protection of the Knighthood. Briar awaits you, entering from the tower. As Grave and Lady Sorra pass them, they thank him for his protection and hospitality, a few even ask for his blessing. He turns to the crowd. "Everyone... this day does not belong to me... but to my wife Sorra... my knights... and to these newcomers, who were brave and kind enough to lend a hand. They truly deserve your gratitude."
The vassal turns to you. " There is a room upstairs where we may speak privately. Please, follow me."
You all comply, and he leads you to the second level: a large, circular room with a long table: a meeting place for the knights. He gestures for yo all to take a seat.

"...I look at those people every day, " he begins, taking his seat, "and each of those days, I wish to meet this new evil head on... and, at the very worst, die defending those I hold dear.

"But my new enemy... whatever it may be... is cunning. For it has set it's soul-snare not only on me, but onto Namhiras, whom I am bound to. And we grow weaker, especially when we use our power and might, with each passing day. Should I die, I will bring Namhias with me.

"So... the question is... which of the innocents shall I sacrifice? Namhias, who despite his physical prowess is not a warrior, but a contemplative and philosopher, and a sentient, compassionate being? Or the people down there, who sought the saftey of my keep, and cannot defend themselves against the invaders? Who am I to make such a decision as to value who's life is greater than the other?

"Namhias," he continued, looking at Halberd, "faces a similar dilemma, in reverse. He is, by all means, an older and wiser being than myself. Yet he has no answer, either! It is not for him to judge which he should save. And so he does nothing! "

He pauses, sighing. "And while we do nothing... We are dying. Slowly. Me. Namhias. My knights. The people we protect. And...Sorra..."

The Vassal's face is solemn. "Now... You know of our plight. Why we can do nothing."

He leans forward. "...Why you are here..."

He straightens himself out. "Before I sent for you... I sent a band of my best knights to the Mournlands... to seek out the source of this evil... and destroy it. Only one returned... shambling towards my keep, with countless other undead. My diviners, to their displeasure, spoke with his corpse, which set forth a destination.

"It spoke of a shrine, long ravaged by time, at the center of the storm. One of my knights, Sir Lukon, managed to survive... But he has yet to return for weeks. I fear the worst.

Finally, he concluded, "I sent Sir Cynric to gather you all for one purpose: enter the shrine. Find whatever may be causing this storm. And destroy it."

[Vhaidara]

Spiker scoffs.
You men fell to the shamblers and dark ones? Let me guess, they went in in gleaming steel without any idea of what the word "stealth" means.

[czieg]

Oren thinks upon Grave's dilemma as he checks the windows for any squirrels that might be listening in.

In the desert, we know that the few must be sacrificed so the tribe may live. Despite the darkness of the thought, you must consider who has the least potential to contribute. The elderly who can no longer hunt or do anything to help the community. It is dark but it is the truth.

[Sir Grave]

Oren thinks upon Grave's dilemma as he checks the windows for any squirrels that might be listening in.

In the desert, we know that the few must be sacrificed so the tribe may live. Despite the darkness of the thought, you must consider who has the least potential to contribute. The elderly who can no longer hunt or do anything to help the community. It is dark but it is the truth.

The Vassal listens to Oren's point with intent. "Perhaps... but should you succeed, the sacrificing of anymore innocent lives may not be necessary."


Spiker scoffs.
You men fell to the shamblers and dark ones? Let me guess, they went in in gleaming steel without any idea of what the word "stealth" means.

"Already forgotten about Mr. Gallows, have you?" Sir Cynric said. He turned to Grave. "My Lord, we didn't come here simply seeking sanctuary. There are new tidings that we bring. I'm afraid that they are not good."

Grave nodded.

"The 'dark ones' that my companion refers to are drow, which she saw skulking about in the Mournlands. I cannot say what their purpose may be, only that it is an odd occurance that may be connected to this storm.

"However, there is darker news as well. I fear we may have an infernal adversary on our hands. It has forseen our coming, killing one of the companions I had gathered in a monsterous manner. It left a message for us, written in his blood, telling us that it goes 'to the Shrine of the Forgotten One.' Perhaps it may be the same shrine that you are sending us to, and the same evil that slew your knights in the Mournlands."

The Vassal's face darkened at the news, silent for a moment. "...then it is far worse than I feared..."

[Vhaidara]

Gallows did not fall to the dark ones or the shamblers.
And then the Vassal decides to be ominous. That is annoying, and Spiker snaps at him.
Perhaps instead of morosely pondering our doomed fate, you do something useful and tell us what you know.

[Sir Grave]

Gallows did not fall to the dark ones or the shamblers.
And then the Vassal decides to be ominous. That is annoying, and Spiker snaps at him.
Perhaps instead of morosely pondering our doomed fate, you do something useful and tell us what you know.

"That is what he knows," Lady Sorra said, scowling at the soulforged. "And if you dare disrespect my husband in his Keep again, I'll have your head myself!"

"Sorra," Grave said, raising his hand. He then turned to Spiker. "In light of this news, friend, it means that forces even you could not possibly comprehend are at work, in the Mournlands. Do you really think that some devil would simply decide to take a stroll across Khorvaire, just for the fun of killing some adventurer? No. It has a plan. It calculates our every action, even now. It studies us. And then it acts against us. For a purpose we cannot even fathom, save that it has something to do with that shrine. And that... THAT is your enemy. Even simple agents of the Infernal Lords are masterminds in their own right. If what you say is true, and it has already been near New Cyre, and even killed one of your own, then it already has a hundred ways to kill each and every one of you! And this is only one step of it's plan!!

"However..." he continued, "do not think that I have given up, otherwise, I would not have called you all here. More is at stake than I thought. With the undead, that at least was predictable. But you add the devil, well... then you should expect the unexpected."

[Vhaidara]

Spiker looks at Sorra.
Your husband gives the best advice I have ever heard.
She looks back at the Vassal
Cynric told us that we would receive a boon if we aided you. Seeing your condition, I wonder if it would even be within your power to do so. Do I look like such a fool as to risk my life when the reward is so uncertain?

[Sir Grave]

Spiker looks at Sorra.
Your husband gives the best advice I have ever heard.
She looks back at the Vassal
Cynric told us that we would receive a boon if we aided you. Seeing your condition, I wonder if it would even be within your power to do so. Do I look like such a fool as to risk my life when the reward is so uncertain?

The Vassal, even through his exhaustion, chuckles to himself. "Of course... running this keep, I nearly forgot how this works..."

He speaks to all of you, in general. "Wealth is not our issue, as much as a lack of trade. No one likes to travel upon a road infested with walking dead, and most certainly not a murderous devil. I can reward you with significant pay." He coughed, out of breath for a moment.I hope you don't mind... I only pay in Platinum.

[Somensjev]

Briar finally speaks up. "I'm terribly sorry sir, but i will be unable to accept that reward. I will, however, help you regardless. I hope that is okay?"

[Vhaidara]

I have no interest in money. I need soldiers.

[Sir Grave]

I have no interest in money. I need soldiers.

The Vassal coughed. "Soldiers? Do you think us mercenaries for hire? Why in Bahamuts name do you need soldiers?"

[Vhaidara]

I was told that I would receive a boon, not coin. A boon is a more general reward, correct? And I am fighting your foes. Is it so wrong that I ask the same of you?
She looks him straight in the eyes.
As to why I need soldiers, it is to take the city of Sharn, and kill Merrix D'Cannith.

[Sir Grave]

Briar finally speaks up. "I'm terribly sorry sir, but i will be unable to accept that reward. I will, however, help you regardless. I hope that is okay?"

Grave looks at you, smiling slightly. "Heh... you took a Vow of Poverty, didn't you? I knew someone like you... Very good."

[Somensjev]

Grave looks at you, smiling slightly. "Heh... you took a Vow of Poverty, didn't you? I knew someone like you... Very good."

"yes sir. i do not have very fond memories of what material goods can do to a person"

[Sir Grave]

I was told that I would receive a boon, not coin. A boon is a more general reward, correct? And I am fighting your foes. Is it so wrong that I ask the same of you?
She looks him straight in the eyes.
As to why I need soldiers, it is to take the city of Sharn, and kill Merrix D'Cannith.

Grave stared hard at Spiker, a mix of tiredness, shock, and concern formed over his face. he looked at Sir Cynric, who shrugged. He then looked back at Spiker,shaking his head.
"I'm sorry," he said, coolly, "but you came a long way for nothing."

[Vhaidara]

Grave stared hard at Spiker, a mix of tiredness, shock, and anger formed over his face. he looked at Sir Cynric, who shrugged. He then looked back at Spiker.
"Then it seems, 'friend'," he said, coolly, "you came a long way for nothing."

Spikers soulmelds darken
I do not care for the city, but D'Cannith experimented on me, without my consent. He hunts me still. As long as he lives, my life is in danger. That is the price I ask: Justice for the crimes taken against me since the day I was forged, and peace of mind to live without fearing D'Cannith's machinations.

The Vassal is probably god enough at reading people (and Spiker bad at controlling her emotions) to tell that it is legitimately fear that drives Spiker to this, not malice

[Sir Grave]

Spikers soulmelds darken
I do not care for the city, but D'Cannith experimented on me, without my consent. He hunts me still. As long as he lives, my life is in danger. That is the price I ask: Justice for the crimes taken against me since the day I was forged, and peace of mind to live without fearing D'Cannith's machinations.

The Vassal is probably god enough at reading people (and Spiker bad at controlling her emotions) to tell that it is legitimately fear that drives Spiker to this, not malice

Grave takes a moment to mull over what Spiker tells him. "I... cannot truly know what you experienced when you were created. But I cannot give you what you are asking of me."
He leans forward. "However, should you seek the sanctity of my Hall, I can provide it. D'Cannith has no power here. You would be safe."

[Vhaidara]

You want to know...
The soulmelds switch from an almost black navy to a nearly transparent blue as her eyes fall to the ground.
I don't know if the Creation Forges give us souls. I don't think D'Cannith believes they do. So he tried to force souls into me. And it hurt. They became the Incarnum I now wield, but I can still feel their pain.
Her eyes snap back up to the Vassal, the incarnum returning to its more neutral color.
I will accept your offer, but know that one day I will find him. And when I do, he will be lucky to die.

[Sir Grave]

You want to know...
The soulmelds switch from an almost black navy to a nearly transparent blue as her eyes fall to the ground.
I don't know if the Creation Forges give us souls. I don't think D'Cannith believes they do. So he tried to force souls into me. And it hurt. They became the Incarnum I now wield, but I can still feel their pain.
Her eyes snap back up to the Vassal, the incarnum returning to its more neutral color.
I will accept your offer, but know that one day I will find him. And when I do, he will be lucky to die.

The Vassal nods. "The Keep is open to all in need."
He turns to the rest of the group. "Now..." he said. "Does anyone have any further questions, boon requests or payment demands they wish to make?"

[Prehysterical]

The argument between Spike and Grave interests Halberd, who stays silent. Spiker's earlier comments are starting to make a little more sense now. 'Not forged in war'... you have a lot to answer for, Cannith. Halberd makes a mental note to speak to her more on the matter later.

Turning his mind back to the present, he briefly considers the matter of how to bring up his quest to this Vassal. Fleshlings always have difficulty comprehending that anything metal can talk, so how do I tell him?

Eventually, Halberd awkwardly raises Endbringer and points the handle toward Grave. "He... it... told me that I needed to see you. That you could help me with my quest. But frankly," he says as he looks the Vassal up and down, "you don't seem to be in much shape to help much of anyone."

[Sir Grave]

The argument between Spike and Grave interests Halberd, who stays silent. Spiker's earlier comments are starting to make a little more sense now. 'Not forged in war'... you have a lot to answer for, Cannith. Halberd makes a mental note to speak to her more on the matter later.

Turning his mind back to the present, he briefly considers the matter of how to bring up his quest to this Vassal. Fleshlings always have difficulty comprehending that anything metal can talk, so how do I tell him?

Eventually, Halberd awkwardly raises Endbringer and points the handle toward Grave. "He... it... told me that I needed to see you. That you could help me with my quest. But frankly," he says as he looks the Vassal up and down, "you don't seem to be in much shape to help much of anyone."

Grave looks at you. Then at the sword you present him. "...Namhias addressed you... or your sword... as 'Ithquent sventlin'... It means 'God Slayer.'"

He stares into your eyes, as if looking into your soul. "We shall speak privately, soldier, tonight. Upon the tower."

[Sir Grave]

If you wish for me to edit, PM me.

Malvin took in all of the information being provided in the conversation. He finally spoke. "I... do not seek payment as much as information. This storm, made from evocation and necromancy, displays intent. If it is being controlled, who... or what... would want to specifically target you or your dragon?"

Grave pondered this question before he replied. "The few enemies I have made are, indeed, powerful. But I have no quarrel with the drow. I've never even met one. That said, I doubt they would be responsible for the storm in the first place.

"As for this... Devil... Perhaps it is possible. I was directly involved in the battle for Brindol, defending the city from a horde that payed homage to Tiamat. They used extraplanar creatures as a strategic edge. But it's not right... I don't smell Tiamat's stench about this...

"This unknown enemy... It seems to be holding me hostage... Forcing me to act... Perhaps in it's favor?"

[Yas392]

Ahh, so that's how it is. Clever. That complicate things so that it leaves their strongest at their weakest. That's why the dragon did not heed my bribery. It was reserving it's remaining life force to ward this sacred bastion. Kalim nods his head in understanding, careful not to cause property damage with his unorthodox seating position near Sir Grave as he takes settles his legs on his chair while his buxom is on the table, bearings on the Vassal of Bahamut.

I have no need for wealth, sir. As for my boon, I do have some requests that I would like to see fulfilled. They cannot compare respectively to the generosity you offer. However, they will add up in the end if you would allow multiple transactions. If you would be kindly enough to spread some of your wealth to the address that I provided, I am forevermore grateful. Kalim hands a sheet to the Vassal. It may seemed untimely to ask of you this in your failing health but combating whatever threat you or my companion listed for us require further preparation. Are there any items in your vault versatile enough for this cause? Kalim faces the window, basking in light piercing through the windows, sky scarred yellowish-orange of the Mournlands staring back at him. My last request is upholding the prerogative that was promised with Sir Cynric. The basics of the term is the immunity from other forms of justice and his questioning on my morality. I would like to ask the same of you in the latter for that is the only way you will earn more of my time in your service.

[czieg]

Listening to his companions, filing away bits and pieces of certain information, the gunslinger finally speaks.

Despite my ally's lack of desire for material wealth, I do appreciate the offer. However, I have my own objectives beyond this mission as well. I would like to use your keep to research reliable ways to kill devils along with a base to create a new breed of firearms. One that would give your soldiers a great advantage over your foes. Provided you help me if and when I need it. The new firearm can wait until this business is done though.

[Sir Grave]

Ahh, so that's how it is. Clever. That complicate things so that it leaves their strongest at their weakest. That's why the dragon did not heed my bribery. It was reserving it's remaining life force to ward this sacred bastion. Kalim nods his head in understanding, careful not to cause property damage with his unorthodox seating position near Sir Grave as he takes settles his legs on his chair while his buxom is on the table, bearings on the Vassal of Bahamut.

I have no need for wealth, sir. As for my boon, I do have some requests that I would like to see fulfilled. They cannot compare respectively to the generosity you offer. However, they will add up in the end if you would allow multiple transactions. If you would be kindly enough to spread some of your wealth to the address that I provided, I am forevermore grateful. Kalim hands a sheet to the Vassal. It may seemed untimely to ask of you this in your failing health but combating whatever threat you or my companion listed for us require further preparation. Are there any items in your vault versatile enough for this cause? Kalim faces the window, basking in light piercing through the windows, sky scarred yellowish-orange of the Mournlands staring back at him. My last request is upholding the prerogative that was promised with Sir Cynric. The basics of the term is the immunity from other forms of justice and his questioning on my morality. I would like to ask the same of you in the latter for that is the only way you will earn more of my time in your service.

"Hmm..." the Vassal considered your words with care before speaking. "I'm sure I can fulfill the request as far as donating part of my treasury to these addressees. And I most certainly understand your need for exclusivity from our judgement, though understand: our knighthood is not a branch of the King's Law, but of Bahamut's. Unless you do something that is specifically cruel or unjust, I don't see how we'll have problems with your methods.
As for items that may help... You are free to consult my priests for scrolls and potions."


Listening to his companions, filing away bits and pieces of certain information, the gunslinger finally speaks.

Despite my ally's lack of desire for material wealth, I do appreciate the offer. However, I have my own objectives beyond this mission as well. I would like to use your keep to research reliable ways to kill devils along with a base to create a new breed of firearms. One that would give your soldiers a great advantage over your foes. Provided you help me if and when I need it. The new firearm can wait until this business is done though.

The Vassal nods. "I can offer reward for your services. For those who are interested, I can award you 500 platinum per head in advance, and 1000 more upon completion of your task.
"That said... I'm not much of a gun smith... And as far as I know, you carry the most advanced form of firearm...
"But you are wise to caution against evil outsiders. A few of my priests are alchemists, and can coat your ammunition in cold iron. Perhaps that might help?"

You may purchase scrolls, potions and wands, and you may have your weapons enchanted, or given descriptors, up to a +1 bonus.You must pay the appropriate amount, though keep in mind that you now have an exta 5,000 GP to spend.

[Guard]

Malvin is fascinated with hearing his companion's reasons for undertaking this jurney. It seemed they were not as rag-tag as he had presumed, united primarily under the banner of coin to be gained.
While he had been truthful in his earlier proclamation of scholarly intent, Malvin's eyes still gleamed at hearing the size of the payment offered. He'd left a sizeable library of arcane tomes behind him when he ran, and untill he'd lost it he had not noticed how much he had depended on the availability of those books in order to solve his problems. Currently, he was down to the few spells contained within the pages of his personal research, and it chafed.

When he thought of the sheer unadultered power meant to run through some of the equations he'd seen in those books... It left his stints on the battlefield look like the batting of a moth's wings in comparison. No, a library like that was the work of decades, a lifetime even, but with a lump sum like fifteen hundred platinum coins at his disposal, he might be off to a head start, and eventually he could turn scrolls bought from here into formulae for his collection. Still, there was the matter at hand to take into account first.

"This devil is aware we're coming for it, has been edging us on, even. It will be certain to be prepared in most devious ways. While I yet do not think much of our chances of succeeding in this quest, I am agreed to your generous proposal, Grave."

"Now, in our preparations, I suggest we consider our adversaries. It would be prudent to expect the dark elves, the walking dead, and devils. I suggest acquireing silver weaponry, if you rely on such in combat; I'll look into a way to make weapons easier able to hurt fiends."

[czieg]

"Hmm..." the Vassal considered your words with care before speaking. "I'm sure I can fulfill the request as far as donating part of my treasury to these addressees. And I most certainly understand your need for exclusivity from our judgement, though understand: our knighthood is not a branch of the King's Law, but of Bahamut's. Unless you do something that is specifically cruel or unjust, I don't see how we'll have problems with your methods.
As for items that may help... You are free to consult my priests for scrolls and potions."



The Vassal nods. "I can offer reward for your services. For those who are interested, I can award you 500 platinum per head in advance, and 1000 more upon completion of your task.
"That said... I'm not much of a gun smith... And as far as I know, you carry the most advanced form of firearm...
"But you are wise to caution against evil outsiders. A few of my priests are alchemists, and can coat your ammunition in cold iron. Perhaps that might help?"

You may purchase scrolls, potions and wands, and you may have your weapons enchanted, or given descriptors, up to a +1 bonus.You must pay the appropriate amount, though keep in mind that you now have an exta 5,000 GP to spend.

Oren nods in appritation about the cold iron and his eyes gleam at the size of the reward.
I thank you for your generosity. I shall see to it that I am prepared for when we contact this creature. If my weapon were to be blessed with holy power, would this also bypass any resistances of such evil creatures?

[Prehysterical]

Looking over the refugees present, a thought begins to form in Halberd's mind.

"Do you have a smith here in the keep? Tried my hand at it for a time. If we are staying the night here, might be a good idea to get these civvies armed with some good steel."

[Sir Grave]

Oren nods in appritation about the cold iron and his eyes gleam at the size of the reward.
I thank you for your generosity. I shall see to it that I am prepared for when we contact this creature. If my weapon were to be blessed with holy power, would this also bypass any resistances of such evil creatures?

"Again, my priests will happily oblige... for a small donation."


Looking over the refugees present, a thought begins to form in Halberd's mind.

"Do you have a smith here in the keep? Tried my hand at it for a time. If we are staying the night here, might be a good idea to get these civvies armed with some good steel."

The vassal leans back. "My first profession was as a blacksmith. I love the craft. I would be more than happy to help, as I am not doing anything else.""

[Sir Grave]

Malvin is fascinated with hearing his companion's reasons for undertaking this jurney. It seemed they were not as rag-tag as he had presumed, united primarily under the banner of coin to be gained.
While he had been truthful in his earlier proclamation of scholarly intent, Malvin's eyes still gleamed at hearing the size of the payment offered. He'd left a sizeable library of arcane tomes behind him when he ran, and untill he'd lost it he had not noticed how much he had depended on the availability of those books in order to solve his problems. Currently, he was down to the few spells contained within the pages of his personal research, and it chafed.

When he thought of the sheer unadultered power meant to run through some of the equations he'd seen in those books... It left his stints on the battlefield look like the batting of a moth's wings in comparison. No, a library like that was the work of decades, a lifetime even, but with a lump sum like fifteen hundred platinum coins at his disposal, he might be off to a head start, and eventually he could turn scrolls bought from here into formulae for his collection. Still, there was the matter at hand to take into account first.

"This devil is aware we're coming for it, has been edging us on, even. It will be certain to be prepared in most devious ways. While I yet do not think much of our chances of succeeding in this quest, I am agreed to your generous proposal, Grave."

"Now, in our preparations, I suggest we consider our adversaries. It would be prudent to expect the dark elves, the walking dead, and devils. I suggest acquireing silver weaponry, if you rely on such in combat; I'll look into a way to make weapons easier able to hurt fiends."

"A wise precaution, mage. After all, I am counting on your return."
He turned to Halberd. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind working in silver?"

As he says this, another enters the room: a warforged, plating painted like the forest, with twin shortswords at his hip. "You wanted to see me?"

Grave nodded to the warforged. "Wotan," he responded. "I require your skills as a hunter. The people could use more food, and another scout keeping an eye out for new waves wouldn't be bad, either."

Wotan nodded. "Not a problem, old friend," he said. He then looks at Spiker. "You there. I noticed your handiwork outside. I can use someone like you. Care to join me for a few rounds?"

[Prehysterical]

Halberd grunts in response. "Huh, never had the chance to work with silver. I'll see what I can do."

[Vhaidara]

Spiker nods.
Of course.

[Yas392]

Kings and those of the followers of gods. Sometimes, the line blurs that they are not so different. I am merely putting this up in the event you will need to deal with inconvenience. Kalim takes his turban and fumbles with it as the wrap has loosen. Anyone specific? There are many priests here. His eye ridges rises as his mouth runs itself, not impressed with dealing with many of them.

[Sir Grave]

Spiker nods.
Of course.


Kings and those of the followers of gods. Sometimes, the line blurs that they are not so different. I am merely putting this up in the event you will need to deal with inconvenience. Kalim takes his turban and fumbles with it as the wrap has loosen. Anyone specific? There are many priests here. His eye ridges rises as his mouth runs itself, not impressed with dealing with many of them.

As Spiker leaves with Wotan, the Vassal addresses Kalim. "Not as many priests as you might think, actually. As you may have noticed with Cynric and my wife, we're not all "shiny paladins" or, "preachers of divine faith." My Knighthood boasts a wide variety of specialized persons. Wotan, himself, was a former Cyran Scout during the Last War,, and after that, a mercenary.
My knights can redirect you to the right people, friend. All you need do is ask.
"Now... I believe there is much work to be done. Halberd, if you would meet me outside in the courtyard, at the center of the keep. I must change out of my armor, first, of course. "

[Prehysterical]

Halberd shakes his head at Grave's words. "You want to take off your armor in the middle of a recognized combat zone? You Fleshlings... Fine, I will await you outside." The warforged marches off in the direction that Grave indicates.

Are you sure about this, Endbringer?

[czieg]

Well, I guess I better go see about those cold iron and silver bullets. I may also look into enchanting my musket, a little extra magic never goes too far aray.

[Sir Grave]

Outside, you notice the rain finally clearing up. A few of the common folk hang around, outside, for some fresh air. A few of the soldiers train at the western end of the courtyard. In the southern end, you see a smith's working area:; a hammer and anvil, a smelter, a grindstone... a standard set-up, with a few tools you don't recognize... You figure they are for more specialized metals.
Eventually, Grave enters the courtyard, having regained some of his strength... At least you believe. You peg him for a man who doesn't know when to rest... Or does know, but doesn't anyway. He wears common clothes, with an old, tattered blacksmith's apron. He, and another knight, pull on a wagon full of stone which could only be silver ore.

"One of the merchants was willing to provide us with some material. The price was steep, but it's obviously not an issue, if the need is dire."

As you both work, you begin to understand the basics of crafting silver as he teaches you. You almost instantly get the hang of it, as the same principles apply to smithing with other rare metals, such as mithril.

Grave ceases teaching, and strikes up conversation. "You remind me of my first commanding officer, during the war. He, too, said little, leading by example.
"Tell me, Halberd," he continued. "What's your story?"

The rain finally begins to clear as the two of you hunt. You find that Wotan is very experienced, saying nothing and yet still communicating what he needs from you. You even lose sight of him a few times.
You make it to one of the roads leading east, in the forest. Peering from the undergrowth, you see Wotan in the trees. He points.

Two deer graze on the dewy grass, unaware of you. Wotan signals you to attack the one on the left, when he gives the go ahead. He moves to another tree, above the one on the right. He draws one of his blades. He signals the attack, descending from the tree upon his target...
[roll0][roll1]

You are studying the scrolls in the Keep's Library, which is actually a pretty sizable collection. Oren is on the other end of the library, researching outsiders, by the looks of it. You ignore him, keeping your focus on your scrolls.
Sir Cynric approaches you. He, too, studies scrolls, both arcane and divine. "Hope you don't mind if I join you."
He takes the seat in front of you. He allows silence for the better part of ten minutes before he speaks.
"You know," he says, "I've been intrigued by you ever since we met at the Longbow. Where are you from? What's your story?"

You curse, silently, in the library as the only books you can find on firearms are imprints of the rifle you already have, and even then, they are only a handful of books. When a familiar voice booms from behind you.

"Oren? Oren Longshot? Moradin's Beard! What're yeh 'doin here, lad?!"

You turn around, seeing the dwarven merchant you met in the Blade Desert: Rurik.

You finish your rounds as far as purchasing what you need. You head into the Vassal's hall where the gathering of commoners hang about. Many are stressed.
You notice a strange beggar, wearing tattered vestments, feeding the others soup. He walks over to you. He...doesn't look human. He is green skinned, lined with dark green spots upon his face. He bows.
"May I offer you soup, travelar?" he says.

[Sir Grave]

Halberd shakes his head at Grave's words. "You want to take off your armor in the middle of a recognized combat zone? You Fleshlings... Fine, I will await you outside." The warforged marches off in the direction that Grave indicates.

Are you sure about this, Endbringer?

"About as sure as a being that predates your civilization by over a millenia, sure."

[Vhaidara]

Spiker emerges from hiding, snapping her tail at the other deer.

Attack: [roll0]
Crit Confirm: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Crit Damage: [roll3]
Attack: [roll4]
Crit Confirm: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Crit Damage: [roll7]
Attack: [roll8]
Crit Confirm: [roll9]
Damage: [roll10]
Crit Damage: [roll11]

[Prehysterical]

Not wishing to waste any time, Halberd continues to shape the silver metal as he responds to Grave's question. His words occupy the empty space between the hammer blows.

"Like most warforged, I was made to fight in the war. Served under all five nations at one time or another. I would fight for my objective and defend my comrades. When I was disabled, I became the property of the victor and started over. Not really thinking or believing, just existing.

When the Treaty of Thronehold was signed and the warforged were free, at first I didn't know what to do with myself. What's a warforged without war? So, I tried my metal at the civilian life. Worked as a blacksmith. Hammered away at the forge for hours at a time, making new weapons. It was what I knew. The Fleshlings in the village would curse me and my brethren for taking their jobs and loved ones away from them. It rusted at me, and one day I left to pick up mercenary work.

I liked it. Didn't even really want the money, just something to fight, a reason to fight. To exist. As I started travelling, though, I noticed that other warforged were in the same trench. They seemed to be missing-in-action, confused, and exploited. They were hated and enslaved at the same time. Called soulless, even. I don't care about gods one way or the other, but none seemed to be in a hurry to claim us or appear to us.

Then, one day, something... sparked inside of me. I've heard you Fleshlings describe it as 'waking up'. Myself and a few others were assaulting this fortress that had been taken over by bandits after the war. Turns out they were led by a demon-possessed barbarian. Only reason I made it through that fight was because of a priest of Pelor keeping me up. After the fight, we found a booby-trapped room with a sword on a stone pedestal. A monk who was travelling with us nearly got himself killed getting it.

Turns out, the sword was sentient. Called itself Endbringer and said that it was now at my service. I asked if it wanted that, and its response was that it had never been asked before. At that moment, I knew for the first time what I actually wanted. I had a real purpose. It's been keeping me going for a while now. I swore that I would free Endbringer from his prison, his slaved existence as a weapon to whoever picks him up. I'm going to free all of us, find a place for us, and no man, demon, or god will stand in my way."

The hammering stops as realization strikes Halberd. He looks toward Grave curiously. "Huh. That's the first time anyone ever asked about my history. You said you fought in the war. Which side were you on? I don't recall seeing you."

[Guard]

Malvin nods at Cynric as he sits down at the table in recognition of his prescence. He works on in silence, content that Cynric was simply looking for a workspace. He does not immediately respond to the priest's question, although the lines around his mouth and on his brow deepens a smidge. For a long while, there is only scratching sound of claws carefully handling parchment as he unrolls scrolls, refold them, and either returns them or adds them to the meticulously ordered stack that consists of the writings he plans to bring with him.

Then, a scroll brings him pause. He traces the writing with a black, talonlike nail, and a smile spreads on his face.
The expression is no gleaming explosion of joy, but nor does it carry sarcasm or vitrol. Without the frown lines, the tiefling seems to lose a decade's worth of years.

"Look at the bindings. They're simplistic, almost primitive, yet the spell itself is so elegant." Malcin seemed to be speaking to himself. He bent in close, his horns almost scraping the parchment, smile still firmly planted on his face. "It seems to rely on the faith of the creator to give it structure, yet it is clearly of arcane origin." He rolls up the scroll, and puts it aside, neither returning it to its rightful place, nor adding it to the pile he'd purchase. He wouldn't be able to make use of it, having found direct manipulation of energy a crude field of study, and consequently beneath him. Looking at that spell made him, if not regret, then at least re-examine that viewpoint.

He looked up at Cynric, and although he was no longer smiling, he was not frowning, either. He then picked up another scroll to decipher, returning his attention to it. "My parents were both human. They were well liked, rich, owning both an inn and a collection of magical goods they traded with travellers from time to time." Malvin delicately discards yet another scroll. "The items themselves were strictly off limits, but the library..." He doesn't seem to be seeing the graphs and the text before him. "I sneaked down there at night, read of magic, gods, otherworldy denizens," The dry wryness of his humor is is back in his voice. "Sometimes, I'd lose track of time. Once, I failed to notice the morning light creeping into the study. Mother was quite cross with me, as one might imagine - Khyber is hardly an appropriate subject of study for a young mind." The frown returns to his face, and he closes his scroll with a snap before adding it to the growing stack. "In retrospect I suppose the pair of them must have been powerful, having access to resources like that."

"How's this for text?" Dingdingding! This'll be the spoiler text color.

"This is legible. Or is it?"

"Here goes nothing."

"Yippie kay-yay motherfvcker"

"These dreams / Under my pillow / In the twilight, of these white nights"

[Sir Grave]

Spiker emerges from hiding, snapping her tail at the other deer.

Attack: [roll0]
Crit Confirm: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Crit Damage: [roll3]
Attack: [roll4]
Crit Confirm: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Crit Damage: [roll7]
Attack: [roll8]
Crit Confirm: [roll9]
Damage: [roll10]
Crit Damage: [roll11]

Both of your attacks are simultaneous. Both are good, clean kills. Wotan stands, pulling out his blade as you walk towards your prize.
"Perfect" he said, finally, as he cleaned off his blade.
He hoisted his kill over his shoulder. "Such a design to your anatomy... It can only be the work of d'Cannith." His eyes, a glaring red, dimmed. "He must have caused you... a great deal of pain."

[Vhaidara]

Spiker nods as she lifts her own kill.
Not physically. But either we have souls, or our bodies are incompatible with housing them. I still wonder if there might be a way to see if humans really do have souls. I'd like to test it on that monster.

[Sir Grave]

Not wishing to waste any time, Halberd continues to shape the silver metal as he responds to Grave's question. His words occupy the empty space between the hammer blows.

"Like most warforged, I was made to fight in the war. Served under all five nations at one time or another. I would fight for my objective and defend my comrades. When I was disabled, I became the property of the victor and started over. Not really thinking or believing, just existing.

When the Treaty of Thronehold was signed and the warforged were free, at first I didn't know what to do with myself. What's a warforged without war? So, I tried my metal at the civilian life. Worked as a blacksmith. Hammered away at the forge for hours at a time, making new weapons. It was what I knew. The Fleshlings in the village would curse me and my brethren for taking their jobs and loved ones away from them. It rusted at me, and one day I left to pick up mercenary work.

I liked it. Didn't even really want the money, just something to fight, a reason to fight. To exist. As I started travelling, though, I noticed that other warforged were in the same trench. They seemed to be missing-in-action, confused, and exploited. They were hated and enslaved at the same time. Called soulless, even. I don't care about gods one way or the other, but none seemed to be in a hurry to claim us or appear to us.

Then, one day, something... sparked inside of me. I've heard you Fleshlings describe it as 'waking up'. Myself and a few others were assaulting this fortress that had been taken over by bandits after the war. Turns out they were led by a demon-possessed barbarian. Only reason I made it through that fight was because of a priest of Pelor keeping me up. After the fight, we found a booby-trapped room with a sword on a stone pedestal. A monk who was travelling with us nearly got himself killed getting it.

Turns out, the sword was sentient. Called itself Endbringer and said that it was now at my service. I asked if it wanted that, and its response was that it had never been asked before. At that moment, I knew for the first time what I actually wanted. I had a real purpose. It's been keeping me going for a while now. I swore that I would free Endbringer from his prison, his slaved existence as a weapon to whoever picks him up. I'm going to free all of us, find a place for us, and no man, demon, or god will stand in my way."

The hammering stops as realization strikes Halberd. He looks toward Grave curiously. "Huh. That's the first time anyone ever asked about my history. You said you fought in the war. Which side were you on? I don't recall seeing you."

Grave smiled. "It would be difficult to remember me, friend," he said. "I was but a regular foot soldier from Sharn, serving under Bulwark. I was younger, then, enlisting even when my father didn't allow it. Sometimes... I wonder what my life would have been like had I listened to him.
"In fact, I nearly died in my first battle. A Karnn boneknight shoved a sword straight through me. I honestly thought it was the end...
Until... By chance... I saw a winged beast in the sky. A dragon. I had never seen one before then. It... inexplicably... filled me with the strength to stand. And I fought on, at Bulwark's side. We were victorious. I never explained what had happened to anyone, except to my closest friends."

[Sir Grave]

Spiker nods as she lifts her own kill.
Not physically. But either we have souls, or our bodies are incompatible with housing them. I still wonder if there might be a way to see if humans really do have souls. I'd like to test it on that monster.

Wotan looked away. "... so... we have similar mindsets..."
He stopped. "Tell me, Spiker. Are you tired of living in fear? Knowing that people like Merrix strive to destroy our chance for freedom? I lived in fear, once. Until my Lord came to me."

[Vhaidara]

Wotan looked away. "... so... we have similar mindsets..."
He stopped. "Tell me, Spiker. Are you tired of living in fear? Knowing that people like Merrix strive to destroy our chance for freedom? I lived in fear, once. Until my Lord came to me."

Spiker glares at him.
I find no peace in religion. I am a hunter, plain and simple. I hunt my foes, they hunt me, and the better hunter survives.

[Sir Grave]

Malvin nods at Cynric as he sits down at the table in recognition of his prescence. He works on in silence, content that Cynric was simply looking for a workspace. He does not immediately respond to the priest's question, although the lines around his mouth and on his brow deepens a smidge. For a long while, there is only scratching sound of claws carefully handling parchment as he unrolls scrolls, refold them, and either returns them or adds them to the meticulously ordered stack that consists of the writings he plans to bring with him.

Then, a scroll brings him pause. He traces the writing with a black, talonlike nail, and a smile spreads on his face.
The expression is no gleaming explosion of joy, but nor does it carry sarcasm or vitrol. Without the frown lines, the tiefling seems to lose a decade's worth of years.

"Look at the bindings. They're simplistic, almost primitive, yet the spell itself is so elegant." Malcin seemed to be speaking to himself. He bent in close, his horns almost scraping the parchment, smile still firmly planted on his face. "It seems to rely on the faith of the creator to give it structure, yet it is clearly of arcane origin." He rolls up the scroll, and puts it aside, neither returning it to its rightful place, nor adding it to the pile he'd purchase. He wouldn't be able to make use of it, having found direct manipulation of energy a crude field of study, and consequently beneath him. Looking at that spell made him, if not regret, then at least re-examine that viewpoint.

He looked up at Cynric, and although he was no longer smiling, he was not frowning, either. He then picked up another scroll to decipher, returning his attention to it. "My parents were both human. They were well liked, rich, owning both an inn and a collection of magical goods they traded with travellers from time to time." Malvin delicately discards yet another scroll. "The items themselves were strictly off limits, but the library..." He doesn't seem to be seeing the graphs and the text before him. "I sneaked down there at night, read of magic, gods, otherworldy denizens," The dry wryness of his humor is is back in his voice. "Sometimes, I'd lose track of time. Once, I failed to notice the morning light creeping into the study. Mother was quite cross with me, as one might imagine - Khyber is hardly an appropriate subject of study for a young mind." The frown returns to his face, and he closes his scroll with a snap before adding it to the growing stack. "In retrospect I suppose the pair of them must have been powerful, having access to resources like that."


]

"How's this for text?" Dingdingding! This'll be the spoiler text color.

"This is legible. Or is it?"

"Here goes nothing."

"Yippie kay-yay motherfvcker"

"These dreams / Under my pillow / In the twilight, of these white nights"

Cynric listened intently, serious. He leaned in close. "Hmm... What happened to them?"

[Sir Grave]

Spiker glares at him.
I find no peace in religion. I am a hunter, plain and simple. I hunt my foes, they hunt me, and the better hunter survives.

"I do not serve the Vassal. He is my friend, and I help him in his time of need. But we do not share perspectives.

[Vhaidara]

"I do not serve the Vassal. He is my friend, and I help him in his time of need. But we do not share perspectives.

And what perspective do you hold different from him?

[Sir Grave]

And what perspective do you hold different from him?

You heard his offer. It was the same thing he offered me: protection. Safety. Sanctuary. He will not fight for us. He is just like all the others: they preach that we are sentient, and yet they do nothing as their same kin kill us in the streets! 'Free...' We are still nothing but slaves, and they coddle our fear because it is an effective cage.
"But... There can yet be freedom for you. And, should we prevail... Revenge.

[Vhaidara]

You heard his offer. It was the same thing he offered me: protection. Safety. Sanctuary. He will not fight for us. He is just like all the others: they preach that we are sentient, and yet they do nothing as their same kin kill us in the streets! 'Free...' We are still nothing but slaves, and they coddle our fear because it is an effective cage.
"But... There can yet be freedom for you. And, should we prevail... Revenge.

Spiker smiles at him.
Ah, so you understand what it means to be hunted. Who made you their prey?

[Guard]

Malvin's frown remained in place. "They died in improbably timed accidents. I left. Now I am here." He resumed the proccess of picking out scrolls, and although he is no less excacting in his work, there is a new urgency to the proccess. His tail flicks rapidly, causing his coat to rustle behind him.

[czieg]

Rurik, you dwarven dunce, what are you doing around here? You were supposed to go back toward the desert after you finished in New Cyre. I'm researching a new kind of firearm. You know those crossbows with clips you tried to sell us? Imagine one of those on a musket.

[Prehysterical]

Grave smiled. "It would be difficult to remember me, friend," he said. "I was but a regular foot soldier from Sharn, serving under Bulwark. I was younger, then, enlisting even when my father didn't allow it. Sometimes... I wonder what my life would have been like had I listened to him.
"In fact, I nearly died in my first battle. A Karnn boneknight shoved a sword straight through me. I honestly thought it was the end...
Until... By chance... I saw a winged beast in the sky. A dragon. I had never seen one before then. It... inexplicably... filled me with the strength to stand. And I fought on, at Bulwark's side. We were victorious. I never explained what had happened to anyone, except to my closest friends."

Halberd leans forward excitedly. "You served under Bulwark? What was he like? Do the stories do him justice?"