Frederick in the Feral Dog

[Farmerbink]

Frederick rides to the Feral Dog, and pickets Leroy outside. You are recognizable enough, and no one is likely to steal a military saddle emblazoned with Heironeous' crest. Be good now, no biting while I'm gone! He gently tethers a feedbag, and leaves Leroy picketed tightly to the top beam. After taking a few breaths to steady his heart, he pushes through the opening, into the darkened room beyond. After noting Kullen and company's location, he pushes his way to the bar, and orders enough of the best drink he's got for one apiece. He takes them to Kullen's table, ignoring the glares and growls coming from it, and places them at the table. Without taking a seat, he takes a long draught from his own glass, and places it before himself. He looks Kullen in the eye and speaks. I am sorry to hear about Skutch. I know we never particularly got along, but I would not wish that upon anyone.

[Farmerbink]

If you already want it [roll0]

[DarkOne-Rob]

http://i77.photobucket.com/albums/j42/logansanwolvie/TheFeralDog.jpg

Since the higher-class entertainment in Diamond Lake charges a cover fee, most of the town's poorest and most desperate frequent other, less reputable bars. The Feral Dog is by far the most popular of these, located on the central square along the central veins of the mining town. Every night - especially when the workforces of several local mines let out at the same time - cheering laborers within scream obscenities and wave betting vouchers over two dogs in a lethal pit fight. No one savors the tinny ale, but the place is more about camaraderie, bravado, and desperation than about expecting exemplary quality or service.

Kullen's gang casts a broad shadow over the squalid taproom nightly. While the rest of his crew are known for their boisterousness, Kullen silently seethes at a back table. The regular patrons know to avoid the big albino, as his backhand is swift and powerful and his rages legendary. More than one miner has ended up dying from injuries incurred at his hands during a brawl, and only the foolish (or suicidal) get involved with him anymore.

Arguments are nightly occurrences, especially during the dogfights when betting often grows contentious and even violent. About once a month a drunk miner falls or is pushed into the thrashing dog pit, with predictably tragic results. During the worst brawls, someone usually gets knifed. The festering garbage pit in the sharp crags behind the building is said to hold the corpses of as many humans as dogs.

Currently the bar is hosting one of the famous visitors to Diamond Lake - Tirra, an elven knife-throwing adventurer. She has already made a name for herself amongst the locals, flirting confidently with the more handsome patrons and dominating all takers in the bar's contentious dagger tossing contest.

http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/127243/Kullen.jpg
Kullen and his gang sit at the table furthest from the dog pit on the ground floor, showing little interest in anything until Frederick walks inside and buys a round for the patrons. They watch him carry drinks to their table and down a portion of his own before Kullen nods and they begin drinking from their mugs. At the mention of Skutch only Merovinn responds, shaking his head with a frustrated expression.

The rest of the bar quiets only slightly as the confrontation happens, with a couple of patrons seated nearby moving closer to the dog pit. None of the thugs offer Frederick a seat, though there is one nearby and an open place at their table.

So far Frederick's initial peace offering seems to be received as well as could be expected. His bravery and diplomatic entrance seem to have done some good at least. The gang is taking their cues from Kullen, who is keeping his hands on top of the table and away from his weapon.

Frederick's attempt at Diplomacy has worked so far, changing Kullen's (and his gang's) attitude from hostile to unfriendly.

[Farmerbink]

[roll0] BTW, I didn't say it outright, but I wanted to mention, Frederick came in unarmored, and only armed with the short sword. The great sword would be lashed to the military saddle on Leroy, and the armor was left at the house.

Frederick takes a long second standing beside the table, carefully scanning every face for insight, before continuing.

"I thought you should know, I am also upset about the way the other night played out. The gnome is... a damned fool, but she means well..." he sighs and rubs his forehead with a huge grey/green hand. Gesturing to the ales, "it seemed the least I could do." Gruffly, he adds, "hope you enjoy them," as he turns his back to the crew, and heads back to the bar.

Frederick takes a seat at the bar, rapidly finishing the drink in his hand. When he gets the barkeep's attention, he buys another for himself, and slides the man a gold orb. Gesturing with a hooked thumb, he says, "The albino and his... friends do not pay for a drink this week. I assume this will be adequate?" Once the barkeep's eyes return to their usual place inside his head, Frederick quickly drains his second ale before rising and heading outside- making no efforts to be particularly polite on the way out.

[DarkOne-Rob]

The table of men sullenly watch Frederick go back towards the bar. While the paladin is finishing his drink Merovinn walks up and stands beside him for a moment. "Kullen doesn't care too much about Skutch, but I did, and though what you said doesn't do anything to bring him back, I appreciate it anyway. We aren't really sure how much longer we can trust most of the folks in town. Things have been getting uglier, and I don't just mean with necromancers hanging around," he mumbles, just barely loud enough to be heard over the din of the dogfight. "Yeah, I knew what Filge was when he said he needed corpses - none of us liked that sort of work. Graverobbing isn't what we expected to do when Smenk said to make his friend "comfortable" here in Diamond Lake. Smenk made us go warn him after you all jumped us, saying that if we didn't we would need to be finding a new boss, and in this town that wasn't likely to happen. How did you all survive? Filge is a creepy bloke, that's for sure..."

[Farmerbink]

Smenk made us go warn him after you all jumped us, saying that if we didn't we would need to be finding a new boss, and in this town that wasn't likely to happen. How did you all survive? Filge is a creepy bloke, that's for sure...

Frederick looks askance at the man. I had surmised as much about this morning. The wizard was too well prepared to have not been expecting us... and your presence was a hint. With a knowing smirk, he continues. Surviving was a test. Filge's vile minions both severely injured my companions and I, as well as hindering our ability to give chase when the necromancer fled. Speaking of which, we were not able to finish what we began. You should expect to... deal with him again.

He turns to fully face Merovinn. There is more at work here than corrupt mine managers and juvenile animosity. If you get the chance, tell Kullen that I harbor no ill will. Our history is behind me. He looks pointedly at the man. Come to think of it, this town would benefit from a few more examining eyes with the strength to do something about its wrongs, and several of you have proven your ability on that front. Something is coming. Something bigger than any of us can expect to handle without help. I do not know what I believe, but there are those who's opinions I respect speaking often of the "Age of Worms." One thing I can say for certain. I have no love lost for many people in this town, but if it is overrun, it will be over my dead body.

He turns away from the man, and calls over the bartender. Another ale. Also, Kullen and his... friends will not pay for another drink this week. He slides a gold orb at the bartender as he retrieves his drink. After throwing it back in one long, slow draught, he belches loudly, and turns to Merovinn. Grinning impishly, he says, enjoy it. And try to not burn the place down. He thinks for a second, and his grin fades. It is truly the least I could do. I wish I could do more. With a concerned expression, he smiles weakly and makes his way to the door.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Frederick leaves the bar unhindered, and as he walks nearly catches up to and passes Lyr and Arkiana as they make their way home from the Emporium. He notices them walking slowly home up the final path to the house and discretely lets them enter the building and get settled before he makes his way inside and does the same.

[Farmerbink]

************************************************** *******

The Whispering Cairn is empty. Frederick has just left Osgood's smithy, where the first day of work upgrading his great sword has been completed. He walks into the feral dog, studiously ignoring the stares from most of the town's less-reputable types. He strides to the bar purposefully, takes an open seat, and maintains eye contact with the same barkeep from a week past.

Well, I can see the establishment is as... flavorful as ever. He smirks at the man, sliding a gold crown across the bar to him, but keeping his finger firmly planted in the middle of it. Anything interesting happen since I was in here last? he asks, pointedly.

This is intended as a diplomacy check to gather information from the barkeep, at +7?[roll0]

[DarkOne-Rob]

The scarred bartender looks at Frederick with a smirk, greed showing in his eyes. "Interesting, you say? Depends on what entertains you," he says, his voice slurring slightly from either deformity or alcohol (or both). "If yer askin' 'bout Kullen, I keep my nose clean uh his bisness, but he hasn't seemed quite as angry of late. That is interesting in itself."

Wiping the bar with a rag at least as dirty as the wooden surface, he continues, "Don't get me wrong, he still yells and screams when his dogs lose, but I haven't had to replace as much furniture of late. Other than that, you might want to check out the elf over there," he points at an attractive young elf, dressed in leathers with her long, blond hair in a ponytail that goes down past her waist. "One of them three 'Free City Adventurers' what came into town a couple of weeks ago. I heard they didn't find much in the tomb they explored, but she has been here ev'ry night, winning gold hand over fist in this knife-throwin' contest she started. She handles her liquor better'n the usual drunks, and throws them blades well." With that he moves to take the coin offered, placing a large mug of his best ale in front of Frederick. From the looks and smell of it, the ale should actually be good...

As the two men wrap up their conversation, the elf woman in question saunters up, confidence rolling off her as she sits down on a stool beside the big half-orc and says to the bartender in a smooth, alto voice, "Henry, you had better not be lying to this man about me, or I will pin you to the wall." She laughs, throwing her head back freely and continues, "You know what I like - get me something strong to give these poor folks a chance tonight!" The bartender opens a bottle of amber liquid, pouring it into a glass until she moves to take the whole bottle. She takes a long pull and turns to Frederick, looking him over from head to toe. "You have orc blood - the tusks give it away - but don't smell like that blowhard Kullen. I'm Tirra, from Greyhawk. I saw you come in a couple of nights ago and stick your nose into Kullen's table. That's either brave or foolish." She drinks from the bottle again, her words crisp and clean in spite of the drink. "You carry yourself like it is bravery, which I like. Care to throw a knife or two with me? None of these others present much of a challenge - maybe you will be different."

Without waiting for a response she stands and walks away. Without putting any obvious effort into it at all, her motions attract the eye of all the men in the bar, eliciting a mixture of admiration, hunger, and respect in their eyes. Her flirtation with Frederick has also elicited some looks, mostly of surprise and incredulity. The bar tender mutters, just loudly enough for the half-orc to hear, "First time I ever see her make a move on a man. You gonna get over there or what?"

[Farmerbink]

Frederick listens to the man with clearly feigned disinterest. Upon profference of the drink, he casually removes his finger from the coin, and takes up the glass. He smiles at the barkeep, and raises the ale in salute.

As the elf woman comments on his heritage, Frederick snorts in amusement. The tusks, indeed. I am sure the greenish skin, thick oily black hair, and winning demeanor never crossed your countenance. She leaves, and Frederick turns back to the bartender, nodding to the man. Henry, hmm? Enjoy yourself tonight. He flips the man another gold piece, before turning and following the elf to the targets.

So, Tirra. Bravery and foolishness are my only choices? What is bravery if not foolishness fueled by purpose? He smirks as he approaches the elf woman. Twisting a dagger somewhat carefully by the blade, he gazes into the reflection and muses, half to himself. I have never been particularly graceful when it comes to target practice. I have found that enemies squirm less when pierced with a larger blade, as well... but I will engage in your contest. It should be entertaining for a time, at least.

[DarkOne-Rob]

As the elf woman comments on his heritage, Frederick snorts in amusement. The tusks, indeed. I am sure the greenish skin, thick oily black hair, and winning demeanor never crossed your countenance.

So, Tirra. Bravery and foolishness are my only choices? What is bravery if not foolishness fueled by purpose? He smirks as he approaches the elf woman. Twisting a dagger somewhat carefully by the blade, he gazes into the reflection and muses, half to himself. I have never been particularly graceful when it comes to target practice. I have found that enemies squirm less when pierced with a larger blade, as well... but I will engage in your contest. It should be entertaining for a time, at least.
With a raised eyebrow Tirra listens to Frederick before responding, "I could have said more about half-orcs, such as how their talent with large...weapons...often makes their lovers squirm when pierced too, but I felt such conversation might be inappropriate without first getting to know you a bit better. As far as demeanor is concerned, we will see how well you handle yourself in a game, and then see if you can handle me..."

She continues without giving him time to respond, pointing at a wooden target with three concentric circles about 25 feet away. "Here's how we play: First, everyone places their bets and takes a turn throwing a dagger into that target over there. Anyone who can stick their blade in the outer ring gets to continue - everyone else loses their bet and the money goes to the pot. Someone with your arm should have little trouble so far, perhaps a wager of several gold orbs?"

Remember the lighting and smoke in the room makes some things like skin tone harder to discern. Frederick's hair is thick and oily, but assuming basic grooming standards (of Heironious-sponsored paladin orders) it is likely at least clean. As far as demeanor, you have been discreet and calm - very unlike most half-orcs.

Tirra can see better than most in low light, obviously, but she has also noticed Frederick's more charismatic qualities (which contrast significantly with Kullen or anyone else in the Feral Dog)...

[Farmerbink]

Bah, freaking rolls. Just deleted to repost, 'kuz I tried to insert rolls after posting. -_-

This one should work.

Frederick gazes at the target, considering. The distance certainly does not concern me, precision is a different talent somewhat outside my regular... purview. Still, I might as well. The day has been productive. The month has been... interesting, and somewhat lucrative. It certainly piques ones curiosity more than watching dogs reap each other to shreds... Shall we say five orbs each? Also, exactly who is everyone? Surely the good people in this establishment can tell when they are outmatched! Are there still those among us foolish enough to challenge you? Or do they actually match your skill from time to time? He smirks at her, deliberately attempting to goad her (and any nearby participating patrons) into a state of unease. intimidate? Kinda thinking the "shaken" effect might be nice, but obviously this isn't actually combat, so..... [roll0] BTW, that modifier is NOT a typo. I have +16.... O_o


Without more ado, he places 5 gold orbs on the table beside him, takes his dagger and flings it at the target.
[roll1] (counting -2 for range increments) WTB strength to thrown weapons D:

[Farmerbink]

DAMMIT!

I. Freaking. Swear. (obv)
-_-

[roll0] intimidate

[roll1] daggery

[DarkOne-Rob]

Frederick's throw hits the target inside the outer ring.

Tirra smiles at the half-orc's loaded compliment as she takes several deep breaths before throwing her own dagger. "Everyone bets their own value - it's their way of showing confidence in their skill. I'll meet your five orbs, for now...Most of the regulars have figured out that I am better, but many find the challenge enticing. The fresh faces sometimes get in over their heads, but most of the time things heat up a bit later in the evening..."

Tirra is experienced enough to recognize Frederick's intimidation tactic, taking her time with the throw. (He was successful, and with more competitors she would be forced to throw faster - it's a good tactic, maybe used a little early.)

Dagger [roll0] attack vs. AC 10
Her throw hits inside the second circle with a solid thunk. "Good! We both get to keep playing - anyone who misses this first throw is out for the future rounds. Now we throw again, but to stay you must get inside the second ring, like mine did. The third round must be within the final circle. The last one standing wins the pot! Shall we continue?"

[Farmerbink]

"Everyone bets their own value - it's their way of showing confidence in their skill. I'll meet your five orbs, for now...Most of the regulars have figured out that I am better, but many find the challenge enticing. The fresh faces sometimes get in over their heads, but most of the time things heat up a bit later in the evening..."

Frederick walks to the target to recover his dagger patiently. Not quite everyone bets their own value. Some bet what they are willing to part with. He smiles at the elf, entertained by the repartee. Perhaps I will have to stay around until you have won your fill to recover my losses! Then again, wrestling might be fun. Think anyone would challenge me if we cleared out the pit? He chuckles at the thought, as he takes his place back at the throwing line.

[roll0] this won't last long. And does she seriously have a +13?

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Oh, if we play till I have had my fill, you might not be going home tonight..." Tirra says with something like a growl as she takes down her dagger. "As far as wrestling in here is concerned, I wouldn't advise it. Too often I have seen men fell into the dogpit during a fight, where the wrestling is for keeps. However, there are plenty of rooms in town where enough floor can be found to roll around with another..."

She returns to the line and throws again.


[roll0] this won't last long. And does she seriously have a +13?
Yes, she does in fact have a +13. She wasn't kidding when she said she was good and that no one consistently beat her at this game. For reference sake, she has been an adventurer for longer than Frederick.

Dagger [roll0] attack vs. AC 15
With a casual-looking toss she hits in the center target, as she leans back and watches Frederick with smoldering eyes and a smirk on her lips.

[Farmerbink]

As Frederick walks to the target to recover his dagger, he comments: The wrestling may be for keeps, but it cannot possibly be worse than I have been through recently. Granted, I had help, but I would wrestle a few mangy dogs over a twelve-foot owl bear every day and twice on Sunday. Gods, that was unpleasant. He shakes his head, as if to dislodge an unpleasant thought, as he returns to the line.

As for the... rolling around, that would make quite a sight, would it not?

I assume we now must hit the inner ring? He smirks as he throws at the target once more.

You're also not accounting the -2 for range increments, unless she really has a +15, which would be truly absurd. I suppose a masterwork dagger would help. Oh yeah, and some dex. -_-

[roll0]

Frederick's expression as his dagger strikes the target is one of unabashed incredulity. I may have to have you tag along next time I have a challenge before me. I find your gaze to be simply inspiring!

[DarkOne-Rob]

You're also not accounting the -2 for range increments, unless she really has a +15, which would be truly absurd. I suppose a masterwork dagger would help. Oh yeah, and some dex. -_-

Frederick's expression as his dagger strikes the target is one of unabashed incredulity. I may have to have you tag along next time I have a challenge before me. I find your gaze to be simply inspiring!
Tirra laughs, a sound like bells ringing and says, "Well thrown! Let me see if I can do better!"

Good catch - my math was wrong, but only by -2 for range. It could have been higher, but I didn't want to min-max her too much from the original version in 3.5. Also, we are using house provided daggers, no masterwork on them.

Dagger [roll0] attack vs. AC 20
Grinning she walks up to the target, removes both daggers, and carries them back to the half-orc. "I find that the sight of my partner squirming underneath me while we wrestle is often quite enjoyable. He gets a good view as well, inspiring a certain greatness that I desire. Shall we find an appropriate venue, try our hands on each other after this game is over?"

[Farmerbink]

"I find that the sight of my partner squirming underneath me while we wrestle is often quite enjoyable. He gets a good view as well, inspiring a certain greatness that I desire. Shall we find an appropriate venue, try our hands on each other after this game is over?"

Frederick enjoys the view, sipping more of the ale, as Tirra retrieves the daggers. He hums contentedly as he slowly lowers the mug, meeting her gaze. Hmmm, I can... not see that, at the moment, though I might dearly like to in the future. I can, however, imagine it, and such a thought is... intriguing to say the least.

If I may ask, exactly when is this game over? I am afraid I agreed to it before I fully understood the implications. He steps closer to Tirra than is necessary to recover the dagger, meeting her eyes from just a few inches away before turning back to the target, and throwing once more.

[roll0] is this the inevitable miss?

[DarkOne-Rob]

Tirra pouts a little, her lips making quite the intriguing sight as she turns and throws.

Dagger [roll0]
Hitting her mark, she turns and looks at the big half-orc, saying, "Now the game is over. You play to elimination, and after the third throw you must hit the center target to stay in the game." She takes the ten gold orbs in hand and pockets them before turning around again to face Frederick. "If you change your mind, I will be hanging around town for another couple of weeks before we head back to Greyhawk. Just remember, it isn't nice to keep a lady waiting too long..."

With that she walks up to Frederick, kisses her fingertips and then places them brazenly on his lips, and walks to the bar for another drink. While there she loudly announces, "A drink for everyone in the house, courtesy the half-orc over there!" as she points at the paladin and winks.

[Farmerbink]

"A drink for everyone in the house, courtesy the half-orc over there!" as she points at the paladin and winks.

Frederick watches her go, sighing and grumbling about "duty to women, indeed."

At the cry, he hops onto a bench and bow as flamboyantly as he can imagine, grinning widely. He looks around the room once more, before finishing his ale, and sauntering towards the exit.

He walks off into the night towards home, whistling merrily as he goes.

[DarkOne-Rob]

The following evening when Frederick arrives he heads to the dogfight pit, intent to see the spectacle for himself. It is a grisly sight, but fascinating in a way.

The dogs seemed to explode out of their restraints, two projectiles flying into the air toward the center of the pit. They met under the oil lamps and, leaving a trail of spittle and hair, collapsed in an entangled, heaving heap onto the dirt…

The dogs tumbled on their sides and one, a large bulldog named "Crib" broke free. He dove back onto the other, "Butts," catching the back of the brindled wolfdog's head. Butts shook and jiggered, arched his back, tried to loosen Crib, the fine hair of his skull blushing gruesomely. Crib threw his head back, yanking Butts up. He whipped his head down. Butts hit the ground hard, his legs splaying like the splatter of an overturned pie. But Crib had lost his grip. Butts twisted his trunk around, swiveled onto his back, front paws revolving, back legs churning in the air. Crib leapt toward his exposed throat. The crowd bellowed, prepared for, anticipating, the blood…

The dirt was turning to syrup around the dogs' tethered heads. The bloody skulls thrashed in a terrible unison, Butts's muzzle gaping helplessly up at the gaping crowd, Crib grinding downward…

Now the crowd got what it came for. The blood cascaded down Crib's breast. Butts worked his jaws, deepening and widening the wound, aided by Crib's jerks and jumps. They lurched together across the pit to the atonal music of the surrounding chorus, Crib's muzzle propped on Butts's probing skull…

Stamping, applauding, whistling, yelling, the men demanded their due. Winners or losers, they hungered now for a glorious, fatal finish--a magnificent kill was imminent!
Walking away, the smell of blood hanging low in the air, Frederick cannot help but be disgusted at such waste and cruelty, all for the sake of the audience's cheap thrill and a couple of silver bets...

[Farmerbink]

Noting a bitter taste in his mouth, Frederick spits before turning his back on the grisly scene and striding to the bar, beside Tirra. These cretins pay to watch that?! Oh, how I would love to get the people responsible into that pit with me. That would be worth watching. He gets Henry's attention, How much is what I had yesterday? It went down smooth enough! He favors the man with a grin (before paying double).

Once he has a drink in hand, he turns, facing the crowd, with Tirra to his side. What is it that prompts a woman like you to spend her evenings in a place like this?

[DarkOne-Rob]

Without turning away from her drink Tirra responds, "A woman like me? As in, 'an attractive elf maiden?' Or 'a flirtatious adventurer?' Or 'a hard-drinking, unrepentant thief?'" She takes a long pull from her drink before turning and looking Frederick in the eyes, her gaze intense and challenging. "I was born and raised in the slums of Greyhawk, my parents all but raised me in bars like this. I didn't see real elven forests till I was over one-hundred years in age. The dog fights are brutal and cruel, but they are better than seeing men and women beaten and killed. These miners use the dog fights to escape the hell that is their daily lives; what are you doing to provide them such an escape that you feel the right to judge them for it?"

[Farmerbink]

Without turning away from her drink Tirra responds, "A woman like me? As in, 'an attractive elf maiden?' Or 'a flirtatious adventurer?' Or 'a hard-drinking, unrepentant thief?'" She takes a long pull from her drink before turning and looking Frederick in the eyes, her gaze intense and challenging. "I was born and raised in the slums of Greyhawk, my parents all but raised me in bars like this. I didn't see real elven forests till I was over one-hundred years in age. The dog fights are brutal and cruel, but they are better than seeing men and women beaten and killed. These miners use the dog fights to escape the hell that is their daily lives; what are you doing to provide them such an escape that you feel the right to judge them for it?"

Frederick turns to face the woman, surprise apparent in his eyes. In response to your first question, I see nothing mutually exclusive about any of those options, as they clearly all embody, to some capacity, you.

In response to your second, these dog fights are brutal and cruel, and wasteful. I would rather see men and women fight and suffer for their actions and beliefs than dogs fight and suffer for the whims of their owners. Hell, I would rather fight and suffer personally than impose pain on another because it suits my fancy.

I suppose you refer to men and women beaten and killed in oppression or slavery, again, with little gain but the whims of their... owners. I cannot say such a situation holds any more appeal for me than this.

Still, you actually prefer this environment? I- suppose that makes perfect sense. I doubt you have anything to worry about regarding your personal safety, and the high-strung nonsense of a more "proper" environment may appeal to you as much as it does to me.

Frederick grins as he considers what has just been said. You are, to be sure, a most unusual woman. Especially for an elf. He chuckles as he takes a long draught from the ale.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Tirra sighs and says, "I suppose I am unusual, for both. However, I value the life of a man, whether good or evil, as more than the life of a dog, even a good one. Slave or free, men fighting each other is vastly worse that animals fighting. For them it is nature and instinct; for us it is morals and motives. They aren't to blame for the blood they spill; we are.

Now, if you wanted to suggest a better outlet for these men to express their anger at their lot in life, you might do them good and make yourself some coin in the meantime. If not, you might reconsider your criticisms of them..."

Twiddling a masterfully made dagger in her hands, she mumbles, just loudly enough to be heard, "Somehow I made it out of these holes...Khellek and Auric had much to do with that, I suppose. But I never really feel at home until I am back in a place like this. You can rise above your roots, but they are still your roots. Does that make any sense?"

[Farmerbink]

Somehow I made it out of these holes...Khellek and Auric had much to do with that, I suppose. But I never really feel at home until I am back in a place like this. You can rise above your roots, but they are still your roots. Does that make any sense?"

Frederick nods, knowingly. More than you know. I thought I had... made it out, as you say, when I ended up in the free city. But something kept pulling on me, and I wound up back in the lovely sprawling metropolis of Diamond Lake. A more wretched and depraved city is difficult to conceive, though I suppose one must exist; the people here are not technically slaves, though most cannot see what few options they have.

I see that I have more options than most, but truth be told, I lack the... creative touch. I would love nothing more than to give these men hope for a future, and freedom to truly live life to the fullest, but I see little I can do to fix the problems here. Little that I can do now, that is. Until such time as I am able to right some greater wrongs, I...

To be completely honest, I try to not dwell on it. I understand these people, though I do not empathize tremendously well. When you cannot change a problem, you ignore it. When you think you cannot change a problem, well... Let us say that I am open to suggestions. Gods know, I want to make this a better place to live...

[DarkOne-Rob]

"I may be a funny elf, but you are a funnier half-orc. Crazy enough to put your face in front of Kullen's fist, hangs out in a dog-fighting bar with out-of-luck miners and crooks, wears the crest of Heironeous on spiked armor...Not much about you fits with the rest of you." Shaking her head, Tirra walks away from the bar, flipping her dagger deftly in her hand. As she gets to the line for her dagger-throwing contest she flips her hair and the dagger disappears, presumably somewhere on her person. Without looking back at Frederick, she tosses a single house dagger into the target, never even looking at it and walks out the front door.

[Farmerbink]

Grinning at her description of him, Frederick hails Henry again. Send Kullen and his a round. You need not tell them who sent it. I doubt anyone else is foolish or brave enough to do so. Laughing aloud, he leaves a gold crown on the counter and steps into the night.

Not deliberately trying to follow Tirra, but not necessarily not. I'd like to look around the town at other places to meet interesting characters :-D

[DarkOne-Rob]

The town square of Diamond Lake is a veritable mass of chaos and movement. Tirra is nowhere to be seen amongst the throng of miners, harlots, and soldiers milling about between the various venues.

The crowd near the Emporium is filled with thrill seekers, their enthusiasm for entering that den of...less-than-reputable entertainment plain.

To the left of the Feral Dog is the much higher-class nightspot called "Lazare's House." Its stylish stone and timber construction and distinctive crooked-peaked roof stand in stark contrast to the ostentatious banners and garish chipped paint of the Emporium and the simple wooden, rough front of the Feral Dog. Inside many of Diamond Lake's elite play a game of skill and wits called "dragonchess" - a popular game played with two sides of 42 pieces over three 96-square boards representing the sky, earth, and underworld. Lazare, the owner of the establishment, was a mine-manager in town until Balabar Smenk ruined him, forcing him out of business. His hatred for Smenk is well known in town...

To the right of the bar is an odd sight - the chapel of St. Cuthbert stands in stark contrast to the debauchery found in much of the rest of the square. Even at this time of night it is well lit with some few worshipers out front, doing their best to change the base behaviors of the rest of the town's inhabitants. Some can be seen whipping themselves, others wearing sackcloth, while still others accost passers-by with accusations of damnation and cries to repent and commit to bettering the community!

The stores on the square (Tidwoad's and Taggin's General Store) have closed for the day, while the Sheriff's office is clearly open. The sole remaining building in sight, the "Hungry Gar" claims to have the finest meal in town. Frederick remembers how very untrue that claim was from his childhood.

Following the main street (the "Vein") towards the garrison one can find several other businesses of note for the night-owls and off-duty soldiers. The "Midnight Salute" acts as the only alternative in town to the Emporium for lonely individuals to find company for a night. This by-the-numbers house of ill repute primarily serves soldiers and visiting dignitaries. One building past this brothel is the "Spinning Giant" - so named after an actual giantess of old, "Flailing" Felanore who was captured by the garrison some forty years ago. Felanore has since passed away, but the tavern still uses her image to attract parties interested in a simpler, friendlier night than usually found further into town. The raucous two-story bar is the watering hole of folk that consider themselves more "honorable" than most of the rabble in town. It is well known that the Sheriff and his corrupt lackeys are unwelcome, as are criminals and the more obviously poor miners in town.

[Farmerbink]

Wandering through the town, trying to loosen his knotted muscles, Frederick pays little attention to where his feet take him. It comes as a surprise when he finds himself approaching the Spinning Giant- from the outside of town. Somewhat taken aback, he decides to have another- hopefully better- ale before heading back to the house for more labor.

Wishing once again that he had ridden Leroy, Frederick stumbles through the doors.

[DarkOne-Rob]

The atmosphere of this pub is totally different from that found a the Feral Dog. In place of the odors of sweat, fur, blood, vomit, and alcohol this bar has a fresh, oaken smell accented by the sharp smell of hops. The place is clean, with numerous glass mirrors and lamps, making the common area noticeably less smokey as well. The clientele are also better dressed and friendlier, as can be surmised by the sound of singing coming from inside as Frederick approaches. It is clearly a soldiers' bar, with many trophies, weapons, and unit emblems to be found throughout the space.

As Frederick enters it is impossible to miss the enormous fresco of a female giant dressed in a bright yellow dress - the main door goes between the images legs! Once inside the half-orc is first greeted with curious stares and cautious looks, but as he makes no trouble and approaches the bar the other patrons return to their drinks and conversation. The bartender walks up, a large but well-groomed man, drying a glass mug and silently waiting on Frederick to order.

Around the room the patrons can be seen drinking, eating, and talking, though there does not appear to be as much gambling here as in the rest of Diamond Lake. There do appear to be some good-natured arm wrestling happening at a table by the hearth, with an enormous, muscled blond man and various soldiers. The man is dressed like a gladiator, with a large red woman's face on his breastplate. From the looks of things he is winning most of the time, though the crowd is smiling and cheering both competitors equally.

[Farmerbink]

Frederick nods at the bartender. I suppose it would be an insult to ask for something better than the feral dog's brew, yes? After getting a drink and paying with a gold orb, he takes a deep draught, and nods at the gladiator in the corner. Who is he? Not from Diamond Lake, I can tell, but...

[DarkOne-Rob]

Frederick nods at the bartender. I suppose it would be an insult to ask for something better than the feral dog's brew, yes? After getting a drink and paying with a gold orb, he takes a deep draught, and nods at the gladiator in the corner. Who is he? Not from Diamond Lake, I can tell, but...

The bartender raises an eyebrow as he pours Frederick a large glass of dark, nearly red brew. "I won't comment on the Feral Dog, but that gentleman is Auric, Champion of the Greyhawk arena. He's an interesting enough man, quite adept with weapons, or so I hear. Tonight the soldiers decided they wanted to see who could best him in an arm-wrestling match. Auric takes these sorts of things in stride, and humors them well enough," the man says. Looking at the scene with the gladiator and soldiers he smiles, "He brings in some of the soldiers who would be going elsewhere too, so it's good for business. I like him well enough."

[Farmerbink]

Frederick nods at his words. Hmmm, might be an interesting use for a few minutes. He takes his mug and meanders in the direction of the gladiator, intending to survey the scene before deciding whether or not to engage.

[DarkOne-Rob]

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Jyqu2WNExMM/TGKumFnj5fI/AAAAAAAAABw/XeazYVXIqr8/s320/NPC+-+Auric.jpg
The soldiers surround the table as one of their own, a long-limbed man skinnier than most, jokingly grasps Auric's hand. The two throw back a drink with the other hand as they begin the arm-wrestling. Auric's mug shakes only a little, while the soldier's spills much more before he looses to the gladiator. Auric finishes his drink before releasing the man's hand, comes up smiling and claps the other good-naturedly on the back. "A fine effort there, friend! Now, go get me another drink!" he says, grinning. With a shrug the other man hops up to the bar and returns a moment later with a large mug, foam visible at the top.

The gathered crowd doesn't react much to Frederick. A couple of soldiers see him, clearly not recognizing him, and make it a point to look him over a bit more thoroughly than your average bar-hopper. When they see his well-kept appearance and demeanor they appear to accept his presence before returning to the antics of their fellows. It would seem they do a bit to police their own, and Frederick seems to remember hearing that the town police are generally not welcome here, as the soldiers do not respect their corrupt authority. Nor are there any miners or other vagabonds in the bar - it is nearly entirely craftsmen or soldiers, and all in generally better clothing than likely owned by the poorer folk in Diamond Lake.

It is clear why this bar isn't Tirra's preferred night spot, given her earlier statements, even if her companion Auric is here.

[DarkOne-Rob]

- Days Later, in the Caves of Ereythnul -

Round 0

One of the grimlocks sees Frederick coming and moves to the side, avoiding his incoming blade and readying himself for the incoming half-orc. Frederick leaps over the chasm, floating and landing in a controlled fashion on the narrow ledge. The second archer, startled by the arrival of the heavily armored falchion-wielding enemy, steps away, earning himself a painful gash along his back from the paladin.

GA1 Initiative [roll0]
GA2 Initiative [roll1]

23 - GA2 steps to AG7
19 - Frederick leaps to AE7
11 - GA1 steps to AC7 and takes 18 damage from Frederick's AoO
The map (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1fXxrGaewhcYkBXwdZbYT0yZs3hLAiwZ-H6NKgzTHLRQ/edit#gid=535817405) is updated. You will find your solo combat on the right hand side of the grid.

[Farmerbink]

Round 1

After G1 steps away and Frederick lands an attack of opportunity, the huge half-orc steadies his stance on the narrow ledge. Seeing the opportunity, he steps carefully towards the wounded grimlock, intending to finish what he has started. You are ill equipped for this, he growls, as he steps towards his bow-wielding opponent.


Frederick Strongarm (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=752782)
M LG Half-Orc Paladin 4, Level 4, Init +0, HP 36/36, Speed 20
AC 21, Touch 11, Flat-footed 21, CMD 23, Fort +8, Ref +4, Will +6, CMB +12, Base Attack Bonus 4, Power Points -/0
Magic Falchion +1 +11 (2d4+10, 18-20/x2)
Warhammer +10 (1d8+7, x3)
(+2 str) Composite Longbow (40 standard arrows) +4 (1d8+2, x3)
Full Plate +1, Heavy Steel Shield +1 (+10 Armor, +1 Natural)
Abilities Str 23, Dex 10, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 8, Cha 16
Condition Bull's Strength: 4 minutes - ~1 minute
Condition Lay on Hands: 5/5

I'm assuming G2 will close and attack me, or shoot. In either case, I'm doubtful that he'll kill me. 5-foot step to G1 and KILLLLLL HIM! Edit: (to AD/7)

[roll1] attack
[roll0] CC (29-31, x2)
[roll3] damage
+[roll2] crit damage

If the first grimlock to act hits me for more than 8, and I miss/fail to down the 2nd grimlock, I'll use my first LoH for the day as a swift action to heal for [roll4]. Any less damage than that, and I'll save it for later.

Edit: probably won't waste it. Good rolls!

Edit again: wait, do I heal for 2d6 yet?? I think I do! Meh, no matter.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Round 1

As Frederick dispatches the first archer the other grabs onto a rope tied to an iron spike drilled into the ledge and begins to make his way below!

GA2 retreats, taking a double move to climb down towards the tunnel
Climb [roll0] vs. DC 5 (success)
Frederick steps to AD7 and kills GA1

The map (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1fXxrGaewhcYkBXwdZbYT0yZs3hLAiwZ-H6NKgzTHLRQ/edit#gid=535817405) is updated.

[Farmerbink]

Round 2

Frederick attempts to give chase, following the grimlock down the rope and spikes beneath.

[roll0] (climb check) double move

[DarkOne-Rob]

Round 2

As Frederick climbs down to follow the grimlock he sees the archer duck around a corner into a previously hidden tunnel entrance.

GA2 attempts to get to the ledge safely
Acrobatics [roll0] vs. DC 5 (Success)
He then moves into the tunnel, disappearing around a corner
Frederick climbs down the ledge, rope, and spikes
The map (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1fXxrGaewhcYkBXwdZbYT0yZs3hLAiwZ-H6NKgzTHLRQ/edit#gid=535817405) is updated.

[Farmerbink]

As the grimlock turns the corner, fading from sight, Frederick lets out a vile curse. Son of the nine hells!! I WILL FIND YOU! He spits to the side, but refuses to charge blindly further into the caves. After several long breaths, to steady himself, he climbs back up the spikes and rope, to where the dead grimlock lay. I might step aside, he calls out to his companions below. After taking the valuables off the slain grimlock, he closes his eyes and tries his best to step calmly off the ledge.

The ring works as it should, and a few seconds later, he eases into the ground, a few feet away from his companions.