Giantslayer (IC)

[Cyclopean]

Jubilation fills the evening air in the normally staid town of Trunau, for it is the twelfth birthday of the Chief Defender’s youngest daughter, Ruby, and the townsfolk have been preparing all day for the ceremony and festivities to follow. A throng of spectators has amassed at the town Commons; the buzz of the crowd subsides as the weathered town leader, Halgra of the Blackened Blades, takes the stage and begins to speak.

“Thank you all for joining us this night. I take immense pride in my responsibility as Chief Defender, especially when it comes to the honor of the hopeknife ceremony. It is always a great privilege to bequeath Trunauan youths their hopeknives as they come of age.” Halgra stops speaking long enough to open an ornamental case and retrieve a slender, ornately decorated dagger hanging from a silver chain. “But tonight is a special occasion, for the recipient of this hopeknife is none other than my youngest daughter.” Once again, Halgra pauses, but this time she turns to talk to the child beside her. “Ruby, by the traditions of our town, you have come of age. This hopeknife represents your responsibilities as an adult and defender of Trunau. You must be willing to use it on yourself, your fellow Trunauans, and your family—even me, should it come to that. It will be a far quicker death than that which our enemies will offer, and providing it is your duty. Do you swear to guard Trunau from all comers, and to use your hopeknife only for its intended purpose?” Ruby—dusky skinned, black haired, and painfully shy—nods her head in response to her mother’s question. “If the raiders come, and there is no other option, this is where you cut—here, here, and here.” Halgra demonstrates which arteries to sever while Ruby watches. When she is finished, Halgra sheathes the hopeknife and places the necklace around Ruby’s neck before turning back to address the crowd.

“Tonight, Ruby becomes a full member of our community!Let us welcome her, and celebrate her passage into adulthood! Trunau forever!” The crowd echoes Halgra’s last words in unison, signaling the end of the ceremony and the beginning of the celebrations.

First among the night's festivities are a number of games with Ruby as a key player, beginning with a tug of war. The rope is brought forward by the Grath brothers, prominent members of the militia.


http://i.imgur.com/Se0aW8R.jpg

"Okay, Ruby, we'll be your opponents," Rodrik says with a friendly smile. "Go ahead and choose your team from the audience."

Ruby takes a hard look at the audience, and chooses a few people she knows from around town: Rosora, Veyraan Zlodiz, and Byron Myratt. "Why don't you pick a couple more, Ruby?" After all, Rosora and Veyraan were hardly known for their physical strength. "Alright, then," replies Ruby. "You, and you," she says, pointing to Amos Drummond and Damal Lowren.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron walks forward and grabs the rope with a wide grin on his face. "Maybe you would like it if Quicksilver joined our team as well?"

Byron whistles and his chestnut steed heads towards him, its long, wild mane and tail a reflection of the young mans hair.

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan makes a face when she hears her name. "Truly, Ruby, you want me on your team? You know this is a game! You're expected to try and win, mind you..." She smiles at the shy young woman as her slightly sibilant voice resonates through the Commons and she walks her usual light step to take her place in the team.

Indeed, with a slender build, complemented with striking eyes of a very pale blue color, long, silver hair tied in a pony tail, she doesn't strike a figure than one would expect in a tug of war. Gamely, she takes her space still, comfortable that she's among friends. As she goes next to him, she tells Byron, with mock alarm: "Oh, you can't do that! Every participant must hold the rope with their... hands, you know!"

[Othniel]

Amos was new in Trunau, and didn’t yet know any locals. He’d met a few of the town guards upon entry, and they had waved him in, pointing him toward the tavern as a good first stop. That was fine by him. He was thirsty and tired from his travels along the dusty road. His journey hadn’t been completely solitary, as he had at times joined in along with merchant caravans, sharing guard duty at night, and regaling members of each group with his skaldic stories of battle, bravery, and brew. Using what skills he had as an apprentice blacksmith, he traded work for food, and sometimes the occasion to rest his weary feet whilst riding in a wagon.

Arriving the day before, he had yet to find either the village blacksmith or whoever passed for the community’s leader. He wished to inquire as to whether the blacksmith had need of an apprentice, and failing that, he wondered if he might find employment (albeit temporary as he intended to travel further in his adventures) with the town guard.

He’d spent the evening of his arrival carousing in the tavern, telling his same stories. His best was the tale of his grandsire, Amos Drummond the Giantslayer. His ancestor had single-handedly saved a community from giants with the very greataxe that the present-day Amos now bore. It was old, pitted and scarred, but was still a sturdy weapon, well-crafted and deadly in the hands of a capable warrior. The prior Amos Drummond had died accidentally when the giant fell dead atop him, but the present-day Amos was an experienced story-teller, and was unafraid to embellish. Instead of the ignoble death, the giantslayer had fought a terrible battle against the giant, sustaining many bloody wounds, repaying the giant in kind for every wound he sustained. Finally, as the giant raised its log-turned-club for a final blow, the elder Drummond had called upon his god, Torag (who his grandson also honored), and imbued with the strength of the god, felled the giant in one mighty blow. Rather than his actual death, the new version had the giantslayer dying the next day, honored by the community he had saved, as Torag summoned him home to be an honor guard in the afterlife.

Before he’d gone to bed, the tavern-keeper had mentioned that the following day brought a local ceremony. Apparently the mayor’s daughter was coming of age and would be receiving some sort of gift. The details were a bit foggy for Amos, due to the quantity of alcohol he had imbibed that evening, but he was always happy to join in a celebration, and made sure that he would rise early enough to attend.

The next morning found Amos occupying a stump-turned-seat, backpack resting against it on one side and great axe on the other. Apparently there was a tug-of-war competition as part of the celebration. The mayor’s daughter, who apparently was named Ruby, pointed at him and another person, “You, and you,” she said. Amos got up, leaving both his pack and axe laying against the stump and walked over to join the girl. Flashing a grin first at the young girl, and then at their opponents, Amos asked, “All right, young lady. Where do you want me?”

[Smileybastard]

Byron


Veyraan makes a face when she hears her name. "Truly, Ruby, you want me on your team? You know this is a game! You're expected to try and win, mind you..." She smiles at the shy young woman as her slightly silibant voice resonates through the Commons and she walks her usual light step to take her place in the team.

Byron smiles as Veyraan approaches. "But never forget games are mostly for fun!"


Indeed, with a slender build, complemented with striking eyes of a very pale blue color, long, silver hair tied in a pony tail, she doesn't strike a figure than one would expect in a tug of war. Gamely, she takes her space still, comfortable that she's among friends. As she goes next to him, she tells Byron, with mock alarm: "Oh, you can't do that! Every participant must hold the rope with their... hands, you know!"

Byron presents a mock frown as he pats Quicksilvers flank. "Veyraan doesn't want you to play. You need hands it seems."

[Comissar]

Rosora raises an eyebrow as she's chosen for Ruby's team. Glancing behind her to make sure there wasn't some other person being chosen, she walked forward with a bemused expression. Veyraan's comment made her grin, though. "If you think she made the wrong choice picking you, then don't worry about commenting on me."

Taking her place behind Byron and Veyraan, she hesitated. Glancing at the others to be chosen, she looked over at Ruby with a sheepish grin, "I think we might have an issue. I can't do much pulling if I'm off the ground."

[Geckus]

"Ha! I wouldn't fancy their chances, eh? I bet the four of them only weight as much as two of those brothers." Damal shares a friendly laugh with the person next to him - young Rose, Veyraan and Rosara didn't look like powerhouses, though Byron certainly fit the bill. "Be tasting mud afor long, unless those boys are joking about..."

"You, and you."

"Wait, what?" Surprised into momentary immobility at being picked out, Damal is nudged into motion by the man he'd been joking with. "Enjoy the mud, friend." "Oh, ha ha, very funny." His grumble quickly becomes a grin as he walks over to join the others already holding the rope. "Well, miss...Ruby, yes? Damal's the name, and you've got my service, since it's yer day and all. Bet we can take 'em in no time flat, eh?"

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron smiles at Rosora. "Well once we get pulling the rope will be lower, so that'll help."

Byron laughs at Damal, "That's the spirit!"

[Othniel]

"Bah! A little mud never hurt nobody," Amos said to Damal, overhearing the exchange. He offered his hand first to Damal, and then to Byron. "My name's Amos. Amos Drummond. Came into town yesterday, and I must say that the folk around here seem to be pretty welcoming, what with this party and all." The man spoke with an accent that bespoke a mix of Ulfen and some sort of rustic origin, perhaps from the countryside around Lastwall. A curious combination to be sure. Amos nodded to Rodrik on the other side of the rope. "Even if I go in, I aim on taking that fella with me!" He looked back at his new teammates and grinned.

[Gwynfrid]

"Pleased to meet you, sir, and sir", Veyraan says, nodding her head with a shy smile at both newcomers, obviously men of strength and battle. "I am Veyraan, and I am glad you are on our team to help our chances!"

They seem kind enough, and at least they're prepared to have some fun, she reflects. She glances at Rosora, aware of the humor of her situation. "Oh dear. Maybe you can help by cheering for us? Oh, and I wonder if the rules allow you to go and tickle the guys in the other team?", she adds, with a friendly chuckle.

Just in case you haven't seen this convention before: words in italics, without quotes, indicate the characters' inner thoughts. It's there to help flesh out the RP. While your character can't read her thoughts, Veyraan isn't a particularly secretive person, so her general sentiment is usually apparent on her face.

[Comissar]

Rosora rolls her eyes at the teasing she was getting. Sticking her tongue out at Veyraan, she replied "Veyraan here fancies herself the next great comedian, I'm sure you can see that she has an illustrious career ahead of her."

Turning to look at the two new arrivals, "My name's Rosora," She grins as she continues, "And I'm wondering why I'm on this team to begin with."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron laughs at the tickling comment.
"I think you are on this team because Ruby likes you and to her that is more important than anything else in a game and I am inclined to agree with her."

[Geckus]

Damal takes the offered hand, and claps both Amos and Byron on the shoulder. "True enough that is. Haven't been here more than a week or so myself, but long enough ta see it's better than where I came from."

He returns Veyraan & Rosora's greeting with a big grin of his own. "Pleasure's all mine, ladies." His eyes linger a moment longer on Veyraan, looking for the slightly pointed ears that typically mark a half-elf. Nope...silver hair on a girl her age...strange.

Agreeing with Byron's assessment of why Rosora was chosen, he simply nods and rolls his shoulder in preparation for the contest.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron takes the big Ulfen man's hand firmly. "Welcome to town. I hope you are a strong as you look."

[Cyclopean]

Ruby smiles and nods--Byron has apparently seen to the heart of the matter.

Without further delay, the two teams form up, with Ruby in the front of her team and Rosora in the back. Rodrik draws a line in the dirt and goes to take his place in front of his brother. Halgra officiates, beginning the contest with a countdown: "Three! Two! One! Start!"

Rosora lightning reflexes allow Ruby's team to catch the Grath brothers off guard and take an early lead. They recover quickly, however, regaining double the ground lost. The game goes on for a minute and a half, with a dramatic reversal coming from one side or another nearly every other pull. In the end, Rodrik is unable to keep his grip, and stumbles over the line he drew. Kurst falls onto his hands, and the crowd erupts with cheers and laughter. "Thank you," says Ruby, smiling and almost embarrassed. She is shortly escorted away; there are other games to be played tonight, and the feasting will begin soon.

Congratulations! You each get 100 xp for your triumph.

"Well played!" Rodrik calls as he helps his grinning brother to his feet. "We'll want to speak with you all later. Save us a place at your table tonight, will you?"

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron does a theatrical bow towards Ruby and says, "Most welcome!"

Byron gives a quizzical look towards Rodrik and then says "Why the hell not?" And then turns to the rest of the group with a little extra focus on Veyraan and says, "I guess we are sitting together tonight."

[Gwynfrid]

"Yay, we won! I can't believe it!" Veyraan's high-pitched voice soars in delight, and she surprises herself about how excited she is at the unexpected success. "Thanks for picking me, Ruby... And thank you, gentlemen!", she adds, bowing her head to the team's strongmen, not doubt the main actors in the big win. "You realize that we beat some of the biggest guys in town?"

Soon enough, however, she reverts to her more usual demeanor, quietly moving away from the ruckus of the enthusiastic crowd. She doesn't entirely leave, and is happy to stick with the group for dinner, but already her mind is wandering, the view of the bright stars in the evening sky distracting her from paying full attention to the present company.

[Othniel]

Amos grins at the others. "That was quite fun!" he agreed, clapping the others on the back or shoulder (as height of his teammates permitted) in turn. "I would be happy to join the lot of you at the tavern, and perhaps have another, more liquid contest as well? For now, however, I am to meet with the blacksmith. I hope to be at the tavern for dinner, but if I am late please extend my apologies to the brothers Grath, and tell them that I will seek them out as soon as my business with Sara Morninghawk is complete. With that, he bows slightly to the remainder of the group and plods off in search of the village blacksmith, backpack over one shoulder, and greataxe over the other.

[Comissar]

Rosora grins broadly as they manage to win the tug of war. We won! I can't believe it!

She begins to respond to Ruby but the girl is whisked away before she gets a chance, and so she settles for a smile and nod. Looking up at the others on her team, he was caught unaware by a sudden clap on her shoulder. The friendly gesture causing her to stumble a step forward. Glancing at Amos she finds she only has time to just smile and nod again before he too leaves the group.

And there goes Veyraan too...

Her smile stayed on her face, but everyone's words were starting to sound more distant now. Time to go. She walked over to Byron, rapping her knuckle against his leg to get his attention "I'll catch up with you later, I'm going for a wander."

Not waiting for a reply, she slipped into the crowd. Though she flashed a smile at anyone who decided to congratulate her, she mostly tried to avoid catching attention. Finding a quieter part of the celebrations, she sat herself down and watched the crowd's movement.

[Geckus]

In response to Ruby's thanks, Damal smiles and says, "T'was fun, little miss. Best of luck with the remainder of yer games tonight!" His hands burned a bit from hauling on the rope, but that would pass soon enough, and the truth of it was he had enjoyed himself - this kind of friendly contest, while not entirely foreign, had certainly been a rarity back home.

He nods in response to Rodrik's request, curious about what he wanted to speak about but content to wait and find out.

As Amos, then Rosora quickly take their leave, Damal turns to Byron & Veyraan. "I need something to wet my throat after that; how's about a drink, and you can tell me a bit about this town - first round's on me."

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan isn't the most talkative of the revelers, and she might look a little distracted at times; still, she doesn't say no to a couple of drinks, and is happy to stick around with the nice foreigners. In a polite tone, she asks: "Tell us, Master Damal, Master Amos... What brings you to our little town? Other than the glory of winning every contest of strength over the locals, I mean?"

She has a good-natured smile at the memory of Kurst falling hands first in the dirt.

[Geckus]

Damal is quick to down his first ale, calling for a second before most would be through their second swallow. "Ha! I'm sure there's at least a few lads around here that could give me a run for my money, but only a few." He says with a wink and a grin. "And please, it's just Damal, miss."

"As to what brings me here...well, I'd heard talk of the place back in Freedom Town, and thought any place they thought lightly of couldn't be half bad. Might be a place for a man to make a fresh start, a better life. So far I haven't been much disappointed." He takes a slower sip of his second tankard. "Who ever you have for a brewer ain't bad, for a starter."

"What of you two? Born and raised here are you?"

[Gwynfrid]

The slender, silver-haired girl replies, "if it's Damal, then it's Veyraan. We aren't the most formal of people in Trunau, having all gone through the same training and the same ceremony, as you could see tonight."

"Yes, Byron and I were raised here. I have heard of Freedom Town... Maybe it's free, but it's pretty rough, if the stories are true." She seems to stumble a little on her line of thought, even as the ale makes her speech flow a little faster than it usually does.

[Geckus]

"Good ta hear, Veyraan. I've not had much use for titles or formality; been my experience that those who insist on 'em are the least worthy of the respect it implies."

"I'd say most of the stories you've heard of Freedom Town are true, if the stories you've heard are bad ones. Hah! Freedom Town...free to starve or slave or suffer, sure enough..." Damal's grin fades as he speaks, and he stares into his mug as if it's suddenly gone sour. But only for a moment; then the grin reappears and he slams the mug down, splashing ale across his hand and the tabletop. "But this is a celebration, no time for such dour thoughts! What we need is a dance or a song, or a tale of hopes to be; what say you?"

If neither of his newfound companions venture a choice, Damal will regale them with a drinking song he picked up years ago - though subject them to could be a better choice of words, given that he can't carry a tune to save his life; not that he seems to care about such trivialities.

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan sits back, a quiet smile on her lips, and listens to Damal's singing, doing her best not to vince at his peculiar sense of musicality.

[Comissar]

Rosora watched the celebrations with a glum expression. Easy to overlook at the best of times, she felt almost invisible sitting and observing from where she was. Byron and Veyraan were still with that other outsider, they looked to be getting along well. She couldn't see where the other one had gone off to, but then it didn't really matter.

Pushing herself to her feet, she glanced around. Making sure that Jagrin was nowhere to be seen. "Put on a friendly face, then..."

Wandering into the press of people, she began her search.

There's got to be at least a few more...

Rosora's going to try and find any NPC's who are not Trunau native's in the crowd. Her reasoning is that, since there's already two, there may well be a few more milling about.

Perception - [roll0]

[Cyclopean]

Rosora's efforts are soon rewarded. It seems the promise of free food and drink has drawn many to the festival, even those who are just passing through. One man in particular stands out. The fabric of his clothing is dyed bright red, suggesting that he is a traveling merchant of some sort. What's more, his pockets are almost as fat as the man himself.

Elsewhere in the Commons, Amos is able to find Morninghawk just as easily as Rosora finds her mark. The smith and councilor is seated at a mostly-empty table. A dwarven woman sits beside her. They both seem to be heavily involved in conversation, until Morninghawk spots the skald and calls him over. "Hey! Amos, wasn't it?"

[Comissar]

Rosora smiles to herself as she slips into more familiar territory. She takes a moment to compose herself before approaching him. Tugging on his sleeve, she smiled sweetly up at him "Hi! Have you seen Ruby yet? She's getting her hopeknife today! I'm soooo jealous!"

As she spoke, she kept a close eye on where the man was looking. By keeping one hand on his sleeve, and continuing to smile up at him, she did her best to keep his attention focused in the wrong place while simultaneously picking his pocket.

So! Using Disguise to appear to be a human child, at the same time using Sleight of Hand to try and pickpokect the man. Should he see through the disguise, she'll try and bluff him into thinking that he's mistaken Rosora for a Halfling when she is actually just a child.

Disguise - [roll0]

Sleight of Hand - [roll1]

[Othniel]

"Yes, ma'am," Amos responds, dipping his head in a respectful bow. He speaks slowly, but firmly. "Amos Drummond. Some of the guard folks said you might be the one to talk to. I'm new here, as you might know, and looking for work. Not sure how long I'll be staying, but I've some training in smith-work on account of my father, and..." He paused, slowly hefting his greataxe. "If that don't work out, I'm fair handy with this. Settling the axe back across his shoulder, he grins broadly.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron not one to forgo a free drink, sits with Damal and Veyraan.

"Freedom is almost always a two edged blade."
"So Damal, what do you do, beyond sing badly." Byron laughs.

[Cyclopean]

"I did indeed, little girl!" laughs the merchant. "Strong, too, isn't she?"He pats Rosora before turning back to his dining companions. "Did you see how she trounced those militiamen?" In their laughter, no one notices Rosora abscond with the man's coin purse. It is the perfect crime.

Rosora waits until she's in a safe spot before examining her spoils with some disappointment. It seems the merchant has already spent most of the money he took with him today; only 14 gp remains inside.

"Good to see you're flexible," Sara says to Amos. "We can always use more fighters in the guard, and I'm afraid I can't manage another apprentice right now. Maybe in another month or two, when Urnsul learns to be a little less clumsy." The smith makes a sour face. "Don't tell her I said that, by the way. However, there might be another option, though it's a bit of a longshot."

"That's right," chimes in the dwarf. "The name's Agrit Staginsdar, pleased to make your acquaintance. I heard about you from my wife and fellow councilor here," she says, giving Morninghawk an affectionate elbow to the ribs. "So, seeing as she's full up on apprentices but I'm certainly not, I thought I'd might as well ask. Do you happen to have any arcane ability?"

[Othniel]

"A little," the Skald confesses. He wasn't surprised that he'd been turned down for an apprenticeship. It wasn't the first time, and he was sure it was far from the last. "My mother trained me in her people's Skaldic ways. What did you have in mind?"

[Cyclopean]

Angrit's eyes light up. "A skald, eh? You don't see too many of them. Can't say I know too much about that particular art, to be completely honest, but I do find there's always some degree of overlap, you know? I'm a wizard myself, and proprietor of the House of Wonders. If you come work for me, I'll be happy to teach you what I know about weaving magic into the mundane. Interested?"

[Othniel]

"How does one do such a thing?" Amos asks, looking at the wizard intently. "I have heard tales of magical arms, armor, and the like, but never have I seen it done."

[Geckus]

Damal laughs along with Byron. "Badly? Clearly you've no ear for the finer voices... But I've other skills to fall back on, regardless. I do a bit of hunting here and there, so I've picked up a bit of woodcraft and how to read the lay of the land - I may have learned to prefer a nice feather bed, but the wilds are no stranger to me. Always have to be wary of orcs while out and about, but my fa...friend, Bursi, taught me weapons-work; use of a bow and blade, though he always favored a good axe, and so do I. Nothing like good dwarven steel to set a greenskin running."

He takes a quaff from his mug, finding it emptier than he'd like.

"But that's just to get me buy when the dice or cards don't fall in my favor, which I'll admit is more often than I'd like. Not often enough for those I play against though!"

"How about the two of you? You've the look of a warrior about you, Byron - militia man or free ranger I'd wager..."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron smiles. "I am part of the Militia and know my way around the wilds, weapons and horses, especially my horse Quicksilver."

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan politely refrains from offering her opinion on the man's singing, but she doesn't make any protest at Byron's characterization, either. She answers the question, although a little hesistantly. "Welll... I was trained in the militia too, like all here. I can defend myself. My parents would like me to come with them on their next trip to the South... Selling and buying stuff, you know." It's clear she isn't very enthusiastic at the prospect.

[Geckus]

"Quicksilver, eh? Must be fleet of foot, this horse of yours."

Taking note of Veyraan's lack of enthusiam in her reply, Damal raises a brow, then leans back his chair, propping his feet on the corner of the table away from where the other two are sitting.

"Merchanting, hmmm? Could be a fine life, if you're the sort for it. But are you? We've barely met, and even I can see that's not so. Don't you agree Byron? Surely there's something else that lights a spark in you?"

[Cyclopean]

Before Agrit can continue, her wife stands up. "If you'll excuse me, I've actually got a few things to attend to," she says as she claps both Amos and Angrit on the shoulder. "You mages have fun."

"Anyway," continues Agrit as Sara walks away, "it's rather complicated, I'm afraid. You know how to make scrolls, right? Well, it's a little like that, but if you want to make something so that the magic lasts, it's much more expensive and time-consuming. What's more, you use a different skill set for different kinds of items. Being married to a smith has really helped me understand how to work enchantments into weapons and armor, let me tell you. Plus, you need to meet a certain threshold of power--what's the strongest spell you can cast?"

[Othniel]

Amos shrugs. "I can cure basic wounds. It is probably nothing much to boast of, but the talent has served me well on the road." He then grins toothily. "Oh, I can also speed myself up quite a bit. When I learned the spell, I believe it was taught to me as a way to retreat quickly. I prefer to think of it as a spell to let me meet my enemies in battle all the swifter!"

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"Quicksilver is the fastest horse around!" boasts Byron, the drink having its effect on him.

~

A look of sadness crosses Byron's face when Veyraan speaks of going south. "Buying and selling isn't for everyone. You should stay here where you belong." He smiles. "I'll take care of you..." Byron blushes.

[Comissar]

Rosora looks at her takings with some measure of disappointment. Tch...

Pocketing the gold, she glances around. It didn't seem worth the risk to get such a meagre amount. If she was going to have a good evening, she'd need something more valuable. As she casts around for new potential targets, she lays her eyes on the gifts that have been bought for Ruby. And hesitates.

I shouldn't...

She takes a circuitous route over to the gifts anyway.

I'll just see what kind of things she's being given...

Trying to remain nonchalant, she looks over the presents intended for Ruby.

I imagine you don't need a perception? For clarification, Rosora's just looking right now. I'm also working on the assumption that there is some kind of 'gift table' given the hope knife celebration is a big deal.

And if you want to have an NPC spot her here and accuse her of trying to steal Ruby's presents, I could get behind that :smalltongue:

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan has a miffed look on her face as she replies to Byron, in a somewhat sharp tone: "Hey, I can look after myself, thank you very much. I was in the militia at the same time as you, and I passed, as I'm sure you remember."

As I remember you're bigger and stronger than I am, all right. No need to rub it in... She frowns, then eases up as she turns back to Damal.

"One trip per year, it's not too bad, and you get to see interesting places, or so my father tells me. And it's important for Trunau, too. We sell our local goods, and we buy steel, a quality that we can't find around here. No steel, no weapons. Without trade, Trunau wouldn't last long", she explains.

[Geckus]

Protective of his friend, he is. Damal watches the exchange between Veyraan and Byron with a faint look of amusement, mostly hidden behind sipping at an empty jug. Oh ho, a nerve is struck! Small but fierce this one. I think I'm going to like these two.

In response to Veyraan's explanation, he quirks an eyebrow. "I've no doubt it's necessary work, and perhaps adventurous enough given the hazards of travel, but is it work you truly want to do? And don't fear to tell me to mind my own business if I pry overmuch; I'll not take offense."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron look changes to one of sadness. "I was jokingly meaning they would be more inclined to let you stay then."
Byron looks a little less sad. "I know you can take care of yourself. You are one of the few people who I trust to do well in the wilderness. I may be strong, but you can draw magic out of nature."

[Gwynfrid]

"Aww, no offense taken, really", the silver-haired girl tells Byron, with a friendly smile, before changing the subject. "Anyway, I can't say I know for sure what to do with my life... You, Damal, sound like you do, however! As long as it's away from Freedom Town, right? D'you think you'd fancy staying in Trunau for some time?"

[Cyclopean]

"We certainly hope so!" a cheerful voice interjects. Byron, Veyraan, and Damal turn to see Rodrik approaching, Kurst close behind him. "It seems your friends from earlier are still looking around. Of course, that Rosora always did get bored easily...alright if we join you?"

Rosora, meanwhile, finds her search to be fruitless. It seems that either Ruby's gifts either haven't been presented yet, or else her mother is taking the less ostentatious route of doing any gift-giving in private. She recalls that her target earlier was sitting opposite two other merchants; perhaps they have heavier purses in their pockets.

Agrit stretches her chin. "Well, that's certainly handy. I can't do any healing magic myself, but I'm sure I could find a use for it in something. Still, you've got a long way to go before you could make something on your own. So, what do you say? Come work as my assistant, in return for fair pay and as much as I can teach you about my art?"

[Othniel]

Amos nods assent. "Yes, I will work for you. What would you have me do?"

[Geckus]

Damal drops his feet back the ground as he turns to face the newcomers, a welcoming smile on his face. "Well, I've certainly no objection, to the staying or to the company; pull up some chairs lads!" Remembering that his mug has gone dry, Damal adds, "I'll fetch a pitcher or two for the table, back before you know I'm gone."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron smiles at Veyraan and when he sees Rodrik and Kurst he waves them over. "Please join us."

[Comissar]

Rosora has mixed emotions at being unable to find Ruby's gifts. On the one hand, it would have been nice to look through them. On the other, she almost felt a sense of relief that the temptation wasn't in front of her. Ruby had been nice to her earlier, she wasn't sure that she'd understand if she found Rosora walking away with what was meant for her.

All the same, though, there was still that urge that needed satisfying. There was always that group of merchant's. Meagre though the takings had been, it did at least provide some measure of entertainment. She worked her way back toward them, careful to avoid the attention of any of the elder's.

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan simply makes a smiling, welcoming gesture as Rodrick and Kurst sit with the group. She looks at them, curious to know what they wish to discuss.

[Geckus]

True to his word, Damal returns moments later, a pair of pitchers in his hands. Setting them down and refilling his mug, he seats himself and says, "So what were it ya wanted to talk about?"

[Cyclopean]

Rosora

The merchants sit at the same table as before, engrossed in their conversation of rates of exchange between grain and metal and manufactured goods here in Trunau and nearby areas. "A good place to trade, all in all," one says. "They may not have much, but Trunau's isolated enough that you can practically name your prices. A few too many orcbloods around for my liking, but that's Belkzen for you."


Amos

Angrit grins, and reaches out to shake hands with Amos. "Fantastic! Well, your duties will change as you progress, I imagine. I might have you scribe some scrolls--expeditious retreat is always handy, and arcane healing scrolls are a bit of a rarity. A shame you can't do potions, they tend to be more popular. Of course, there's a fair bit of menial labor involved as well--keeping the shop tidy, maintaining records, that sort of thing. And any time we have free, we'll see if you can help me with whatever my latest crafting project is--always the best way to learn, I find. Think you can start two days from now?"


Byron, Damal, and Veyraan

Rodrik thanks Damal as he pours drinks for himself and Kurst. "We're pretty thirsty--haven't had a chance to take a break yet." Rodrik pauses to take a long quaff. "Can't even wait to answer their questions, brother? And you criticize my drinking." Kurst chuckles, and takes a sip of his own.

"Come now," replies Rodrik, wiping his lip, "We both know that you'll have twice as much as me before the night is over."

"True."

"Anyway," Continues Rodrik, "First of all, we wanted to congratulate you on your victory. We usually end up having to hold back quite a bit for these hopeknife ceremonies. It was good to be able to break a sweat for a change. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't smile at seeing Kurst get a bit muddy." Kurst himself smiles at the friendly jab. "Anyway, aside from your strength, I'm intrigued that Ruby picked you. I may not know the girl that well, but she's notoriously shy, and a good judge of character if she's anything like her mother, and I suspect she is. The fact that she chose you, Veyraan, and--say, where is Rosora?"

"Getting into some kind of trouble, no doubt."

"Come on, Kurst. As far as dad's convinced, she's reformed."

"Just joking, Rodrik. You take these things too seriously. Besides, as far as judgement of character goes, we know dad's no Ruby."

Rodrik sighs, and continues. "Anyway, my point was that I think it's telling that Ruby chose all of you over, say, that mustachioed hulk in the back."

"Now, Rodrik, I'm certain that he's a perfectly nice hulk."

"I'm sure he is, Kurst, but that's not my point." Now, Byron, Veyraan, it's been some time since we've talked. And I don't believe we've met, friend--thanks again for bringing over the ale. Why don't you tell us a little about what you've been up to lately?"

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron smiles. "About the same as always, scouting the areas around Trunau with Quicksilver and hunting."

[Othniel]

Amos smiles in return as they shake hands. "Very well, I will come find your shop two days' hence. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have to meet the brothers Grath at the tavern. Fairwell!" He bows respectfully, hefts his greataxe across his shoulder once more, and makes his way out of the building and through the town to the tavern or inn where the rest of his tug-of-war compatriots were eating dinner. He enters, his traveling boots thudding on the floor as he walks, and heads for the bar where he grabs a drink. The skald then meanders through the crowd and finds a seat at the table and greets his teammates from earlier. "Good evening, all." With that, he focuses on his drink, downing it in one long, slow draught. Setting the container none-too-gently on the table, he turns toward the bar and practically bellows, "Food and more ale please!"


I assume Amos' conversations with Sara and Angrit were short enough for him to have caught up with the others where they are speaking right now.

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan finds herself strangely reluctant to share the details of her life with this many people. However, in a close-knit community such as Trunau, Rodrick's question is only natural: She doesn't really consider turning him down. When she does speak, however, it is with a good deal of hesitation.

"Well... Pa has been teaching me the ways of the trade. He wants me to go on the next trip with Ma and him, you know. But... on my own time, I have been out... you know... a little far out, sometimes. Enjoying the wind, stars, clouds, all that. Clouds... so many fantastic shapes, they're really fascinating to watch. Animals, too. I don't know why, but I find that I relate to them. Birds, especially. Recently, I thought I was speaking to them, and they were answering... I wondered if I had been daydreaming. But... I don't think so."

She blushes, but she looks at the men steadily, as if daring them to call her crazy.

[Geckus]

Damal nods at the thanks, sipping from his own mug.

"Name's Damal, friend. Haven't been up to much since I got here, other than some dice and cards with those at the Ramblehouse and...what was the name o' the place...oh yes, the Killing Grounds. Funny name for a bar." Damal nods a greeting as Amos joins the rest of them at the table. "Bit of relaxation afore setting to work."

[Comissar]

Though she had been feeling guilt over planning to take from Ruby, overhearing the merchants discussion dispels any remaining doubts. Shushing the little voice in the back of her mind that was telling her she was being petty, Rosora moved quietly through the crowd. Although it didn't sound like the first merchant had realised he'd been robbed, she didn't want to take any chances with being recognised.

Rosora's going to stealth over to the one's that have yet to be pickpocketed, then attempt to steal from them too. I'm not sure how many there are, so here's a bunch of Sleight of Hand checks. Just take them from top down until there's either a failure or there are no more merchants left.

Stealth - [roll0]
Sleight of Hand - [roll1]
Sleight of Hand - [roll2]
Sleight of Hand - [roll3]
Sleight of Hand - [roll4]
Sleight of Hand - [roll5]
Sleight of Hand - [roll6]

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron returns Veyraan's gaze with a smile and deep understanding. "I understand that connection with the wind, rock and beasts. I love Trunau and it's people dearly, but there is so much more freedom and beauty beyond her walls."

[Cyclopean]

Rosora is able to lighten the pockets of the more obnoxious of the merchants with ease, but has difficulty with the next one. His pockets are too tight, and none of the angles seem to be working out right. She manages to go unnoticed, at least.

Two merchants have not yet had their pockets picked. This time, Rosora has managed to steal 30 gp in loose coinage.

"Glad you could join us!" says Rodrik to Amos as he pours a mug of ale for him. "Care to introduce yourself?"

Both of the Graths listen intently to Veyraan. "That's very interesting," Rodrik replies with an earnest smile. Kurst seems to be leery of her claims, but content to let his brother do the talking. "Certainly not the strangest thing I've heard of. I wonder what kinds of things birds might talk about? Might be I could write something about that...anyway, I hope you'll keep trying to talk with birds, and I'd be very grateful if you could tell me how those conversations go." Rodrik gives Veyraan a friendly, earnest smile; Kurst manages not to roll his eyes.

"And what kind of work is it that you do, Damal?" asks Rodrik.

[Othniel]

The Skald accepts the mug with a grin and nod of thanks, taking a sip. His initial thirst sated, he can enjoy this drink more. "Name's Amos," replies the Skald. "Amos Drummond, son of Amos Drummond." He takes another sip. "Son of Amos Drummond. Maybe you've heard of him: a famous giant-slayer?" Amos asks with a smile, a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "Just got to town yesterday. Apparently in time to attend the celebration for the mayor's daughter." He sets his mug down and eyes Rodrik. "That's quite the coming-of-age ceremony you folks got yourselves. Had many problems with orcs, aye?"

[Comissar]

Grinning to herself, Rosora pockets her takings. Thankyou gentlemen...

Silently, she moves away from them. While it would be nice to see their reactions, bitter experience had taught her that it was often far better to let such scenes play out at a distance. She meanders through the crowd for a minute or two, not really looking for anything. It's then that she spots the tug of war group all drinking and talking together.

Oh yeah... Rodrik and Kurst wanted to talk to them...

She hesitates. Would she be imposing if she joined the conversation now? Would they say anything if she was? She very nearly turns and walks back into the crowd behind her. Instead, she closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath. And then another for good measure. Putting on a friendly smile, she walked over. "Hey, I didn't realise you two would be back this soon."

Bluff check to disguise her anxiety? Other players call if they want to act on it or not if they realise.

Bluff to not appear anxious - [roll0]

[Geckus]

Ever since Damal had been old enough to sit at a table, gambling had been good enough to see him through; he had a knack for reading the cards and the people holding them, though he'd had some lean times when his luck went bad or he let the itch to go one more hand than was safe get the better of him. But that probably wasn't what the local militia men wanted to hear...and to be truthful, some honest work would do wonders for making a real fresh start.

"Thought I'd take up a bit o' hunting, forestry, that sort of thing." Damal stretches back in his chair, sipping from his mug. "Maybe see what odd job people need doing; always been good with my hands."

[Smileybastard]

Byron


She hesitates. Would she be imposing if she joined the conversation now? Would they say anything if she was? She very nearly turns and walks back into the crowd behind her. Instead, she closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath. And then another for good measure. Putting on a friendly smile, she walked over. "Hey, I didn't realise you two would be back this soon."

"Hey Rosora, where have you been?"


"Thought I'd take up a bit o' hunting, forestry, that sort of thing." Damal stretches back in his chair, sipping from his mug. "Maybe see what odd job people need doing; always been good with my hands."

Byron nods, "Well if you ever want a guide to wilds around here you could not do better than myself or Veyraan"

[Comissar]

Rosora shrugs, "Nowhere really, just thought I'd see what was around." She glances up at the already crowded table, "Mind if I join you?"

[Smileybastard]

Byron


Rosora shrugs, "Nowhere really, just thought I'd see what was around." She glances up at the already crowded table, "Mind if I join you?"

"Please do join us."

[Gwynfrid]

When Rosora joins the table, Veyraan eyes her, noticing that something is a little off... But she reads the situation entirely in the light of her own anxieties.

Aw, she's not comfortable joining here. She's better at anticipating than I ever was... Yes, you're right, dear, there's going to be nosy questions, she reflects.

[Comissar]

Nodding her appreciation, Rosora clambers onto a free seat. She sits cross-legged on the chair, still having to look up at the others. She gives Veyraan a smile when she notices the young girl looking her over.

[Cyclopean]

Byron nods, "Well if you ever want a guide to wilds around here you could not do better than myself or Veyraan."

"I'll second Byron on that, Damal," says Rodrik. "When they wrapped up their mandatory time in the militia, we lost two of the most promising scouts we've ever seen."


Nodding her appreciation, Rosora clambers onto a free seat. She sits cross-legged on the chair, still having to look up at the others. She gives Veyraan a smile when she notices the young girl looking her over.

"Good to see you, Rosora! Seems we're all here, now," says Rodrik. "You picked a good time to arrive, too. It seems Amos here is the grandson of a famous giant-slayer, and I was just about to insist he share one of the more exciting stories. But, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. How have you been? We haven't really had a chance to catch up since your finished your service."

Rodrik turns back to the skald. "Now, Amos--"

"I'd watch out if I were you, friend," interrupts Kurst. "My brother is a glutton for stories. If he gets the idea that you've got a few good tales, he'll hound you until you find yourself giving out the life stories of yourself, your family, and anyone halfway interesting from your hometown."

"Pay no attention to my brother," says Rodrik, grinning. "He's clearly too drunk to know what he's saying." Kurst scoffs, and takes another drink. "In any case, it would be terribly rude of me to ignore the rest of our dinner companions. I'll try not to hound you more than any of the others, at least."

[Comissar]

Rosora nods. Amos had already told the story once or twice at the ramblehouse, but that was no reason to stop him from doing so again. In response to Rodrik's question she shrugs. "I've been keeping well. If I'm honest, I've not really been doing a whole lot since leaving. I help Cham out when she needs it." She gives Rodrik an embarrassed grin, "Sorry, not the most exciting answer."

[Gwynfrid]

Relieved now that she isn't the center of attention anymore, Veyraan relaxes, happy to listen to others' stories, even if she's heard them before.

[Geckus]

Damal smiles and raises his mug, "I'll likely take you up on that, Byron. Good to know the lay of the land afore working it, and if I've learned one thing, it's that having a friendly hand at your back is never a bad thing."

As Rosora joins them at the table and speaks with Rodrik, Damal pours an extra mug of ale and slides it down her way. "Seen you round the Ramblehouse last couple of weeks; nice to finally make yer acquaintance. Name's Damal by the by."

"So, Amos...a giant-slayer, eh? Can't say I've heard the tale, if yer interested in telling it."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron grins and looks at Amos expectantly.

[Othniel]

Amos grins back at Byron and takes another drink, thinking about how to begin. He loved telling this tale. Every time, he came up with something new to add to it, embellishing it more and more with each retelling. Idly, he wondered whether his grandfather, the subject of the tale, would approve. He hoped so. Settling his mug back down, he eyes everyone at the table and begins, speaking in the tone of voice he took on for his orations:

“Many years ago, before I was even a twinkle in my father’s eye, there was a man named Amos Drummond, just as I myself am named now. He was a stalwart tower of muscle, standing six-foot-six, nigh on three-hundred pounds. At the age of thirty-three, he was traveling a ways southwest of here, near the foothills of the Mindspin Mountains. What he was doing there, I don’t rightly know. He never told my father, so it remains a mystery to this day. At any rate, he was traveling through the area and stopped at a village to stay the night.

Stepping into the inn, he was greeted by an impromptu town meeting. Apparently, there had been some raids on outlying farms by some rather hungry giants who had taken a liking to mutton. Several poor farmers had some of their sheep carted off by said marauding giants, and wanted to know just what the authorities (which was the mayor) were going to do about it.

In from the cold night air (it being late autumn) stepped old Amos Drummond (the first). He passed quietly around the throng, leaned his axe (the very same one I have here) up against the bar, and settled in to order supper. He was served by the most comely young lady he’d ever seen (and he’d seen his fair share, had old Amos). Well, old granddad, being as you might say friendly with the ladies, introduced himself to her, and they struck up a conversation as he supped.

It turned out that she was the mayor’s daughter (the mayor also being the owner of the inn), and went by the name of Minerva, though everyone she knew called her Minnie for short, which she was, standing only about four-foot-six, give or take. The talk behind old Amos had got quieter, as the folks of the town didn’t want to trouble an outsider with their issues. In fact, the mayor didn’t want to have the discussion on the spot anyway, in case it scared off any folk passing through the area. If a town has a history of giant attacks, that doesn’t come off well as an appealing feature for the town, as it were.

At any rate, old Amos liked what he saw, and likewise Minerva did as well (young, marriageable men being a somewhat rare quality in those parts at the time), and he figured when she asked him that he might stay a while and see if there were any work to find. No sooner does he say this than what happens? The mayor, who apparently had rather sharp ears, had caught that last statement. Turning around, he fixed Amos with a look, as if sizing him up for something. The mayor told his daughter to give the young fellow another drink on the house, sat my grandsire down, mug-in-hand, and began to explain their plight.

It turns out the thefts, for the giants hadn’t actually hurt any citizens yet, happened at night about once a week. A giant or two, they weren’t quite sure on the numbers, would slip down from the mountains, grab a sheep or two from the flock, and slip away as quietly as a hill giant can, back to his cave to have a roast mutton dinner. “It’s like this,” the mayor said. “We’re okay right now, but we can’t have those giants stealing from us without end. The farmers are afraid of being carted off themselves, and even if they aren’t, their livelihood will be threatened to the breaking point soon enough.” Ending his explanation of their troubles with a plea for assistance, the mayor assured Amos that he’d be richly rewarded.

Amos, being the adventuresome sort and his interest being piqued, asked what kind of reward the town might be offering if he were to discourage the giants from coming around. The mayor thought for a moment, trying to figure out what the town (or rather, he) could afford and what might interest the man, and said to old Amos, “If you teach those giants a lesson so that they never come back, I’ll give you a twenty-five percent stake in my inn here, and the hand of my daughter.”

My grandsire was taken aback by the offer. He liked what he saw of the lass, to be sure, but wanted some time to think it over. He also thought the lady might like to have a word for the arrangement as well. Replying to the mayor that it was a very generous offer, he explained that he’d like to sleep the night on the matter and give him an answer come morning. The mayor, pacified for the moment, agreed and used the excuse to break up what was left of the town meeting.

Amos got to thinking about the offer and decided that then was as good a time as any to settle down. He wasn’t getting any younger, and the more he thought of the lass and the smile she’d given him, the more he liked the idea. The location was all right, far enough away from whatever troubles he’d left behind, and he quite liked the idea of owning a piece of the inn. The next morning, Amos found the mayor and his daughter discussing the idea on the ground floor of the inn. Apparently the lady was quite taken with my grandsire, so there weren’t any issues on that end. Amos agreed to the terms, and they all sat down to breakfast as Amos started planning.

Several days passed. Amos spent the time getting to know his future wife, for he was sure of himself and assumed that he’d prevail over the giants. After all, everyone knew that hill giants were as dumb as oxen, and that it was only their size that made them daunting for folks who didn’t know how to handle themselves in battle as he did. Each night, Amos would settle down outside, hidden near the flock of sheep, to watch for any giants.

Nothing happened for several days, until on the fifth night’s watch, so late that the moon was beginning to set, he heard a thumping. One giant was doing his very best to remain stealthy and undetected, which is to say that it was making an awful lot of noise with its heavy footfalls and clumsiness. Up came this giant to the fence, and he leapt it in a single bound. He crept up to the sleeping sheep, swiped one, hopped back over the fence, and high-tailed it out of there, leaving a frightened, bleating flock behind him.

Up jumped my grandsire in hot pursuit of the giant, taking care not to be seen. He followed said giant up the dale and into the woods leading up into the mountains. There he found a trail, and concluded that this was a regular route for the giant or giants down from the mountains. Creeping along slowly and carefully, he eventually trailed the giant several miles further to a cave, outside of which there was a giant stone pot giving off a smell of a stew cooking. It was to this giant stew pot that Amos’ quarry headed. The giant leaned over and sniffed at the stew before handing the sheep off to a second giant standing at a stone table.

The situation was clear in Amos’ mind. The two giants lived up there, and had been stealing the sheep for stew meat. Well, he wasted no time. Yelling a battle cry, he charged at the giant closest to him (the one who had stolen the sheep), and brought his battleaxe down in a two-handed chop that separated the giant from its left foot. The giant, caught entirely by surprise and in quite a bit of pain, toppled over. This gave the second giant enough of a warning so that it wasn’t caught completely off-guard. The moment of warning wasn’t enough to save it, however, as the only weapon the giant had in-hand right then was the sheep, and sheep make horrible weapons.

Over his head flew the woolen missile, my grandsire ducking just in time. Screaming again, he charged in and quickly dispatched the giant. He turned to the previously-maimed giant who was holding its amputated foot, trying in vain to reattach it, and finished him off. Victory still fresh, the now-giantslayer decided to see if there was anything worth taking from the giants’ cave.

He didn’t find much. A few gold pieces were all the giants had to show for their careers as bandits. Apparently they were exceptionally slow and stupid, even for giants. Well, my grandsire pocketed these few gold pieces and headed back down the hill, collecting the dazed and frightened (but still living) sheep, but not before removing the giants’ heads and placing them in a sack which he found in their cave, to be brought to town as proof of his deed. By then it was morning, and he arrived to a hero’s welcome. The town celebrated for a week, feasting and merry-making for the duration. My grandsire and Minnie were wed, and he signed a contract with the mayor (and his new father-in-law) granting him an interest in the inn.

Several years passed, and life went on. Minerva gave birth to a son late in that first year of wedded bliss, and she insisted upon naming him Amos after his father. Amos (the first) for all intents and purposes settled down and began to enjoy a quiet home life. He was well-liked by the town, had a wonderful family, and all the beer he could drink (he had fast come to learn the perks of having an interest in an establishment that sold beer). Yes, things went mighty fine for old Amos Drummond…for six years. And then something happened.

You see, the two giants he’d slain before had family, a father to be exact. They were brothers, as a matter of fact. Well, their father, not hearing from them for several years, eventually came in search of his progeny, and eventually arrived at their humble abode in the hills, only to find his sons’ headless skeletons. The elder giant, enraged, eventually followed the path down through the hills and to the village, arriving right at noon. Bellowing out a hate-filled curse against whoever had felled his sons, the giant challenged their murderer to single-combat on the spot.

Amos, knowing he had to do something because nobody else would, obliged. He came out of the inn where he lived with his wife and six-year-old son, clad in his old armor and axe, both well-kept, but little-used in the intervening years. He cautiously approached the giant standing in the town square and called out to him, “Ho, giant! I’ve felled others of your kind. Let’s see if my axe still hungers!” With that, the battle was joined.

That village doesn’t stand this day, as a terrible storm tore through the area some years back, but the ground still remembers the single combat that was fought that day. Back and forth the fortunes of the combatants raged, one gaining the upper hand for a moment, only to lose it the next. The giant sustained many wounds from Amos’ axe, but he had given some of his own. Amos was missing his steel cap, in its place a terrible cash across his forehead where the giant’s sword had grazed him. This giant was no simpleton from the hills like his sons, but a warrior born and bred to battle. Amos soon realized that he faced a warrior as experienced as he, and where Amos’ skill had waned as domestic pursuits took over his life, the giant was practiced.

The battle went on, Amos slowly losing ground and knowing that he had to do something quick to end the battle, or others would die if he fell. Summoning his remaining strength, he lifted his battle axe above his head in preparation for a two-handed chop, when the giant suddenly stabbed forward with his blade. The sword bit deeply, piercing Amos’ stomach. He knew he was in bad shape, but the bait he had offered at terrible price had worked, causing the giant to open up his guard. Using the last of his strength, Amos hewed down upon the giant, opening a gash from chest-to-groin, his axe drinking deeply of the giant’s blood. Down sagged the giant, but up went Amos’ dagger, searching for the giant’s throat. As Amos fell, the giant fell with him, the battle ending in a thud as Amos Drummond, my grandsire, lay dead on the ground, the giant’s body covering him.

The town held a magnificent funeral, or so my father tells me, though he was quite young at the time. The townsfolk even pitched in to hire a passing stone carver to carve a likeness of my grandsire from a boulder that stood in the center of the village. It is all that stands today in a field of ruined homes to the southwest of here. Eventually my grandmother and father moved away. As the town died and the wilderness crept in, people left for safer places. They settled in Vigil, where my father lives with my mother to this day, earning a living as a blacksmith.

So ends the tale of Amos Drummond, Giantslayer."

Amos lifts his mug once more, silently toasting the long-dead grandfather he never knew, and takes a drink.

Edit: Bah, can't put a roll in. Will be in the OOC.

[Geckus]

Damal listens attentively to the tale, closing his eyes for a few moments to let his minds eye see the battles that Amos' words paint. When the skald finishes talking and raises his mug in a silent toast, he matches the gesture and drains his own before slamming it down on the table.

"Now that was a fine tale! A fine tale indeed."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron seems seems amused. "A good tale, my friend."

[Gwynfrid]

Engrossed in the story, Veyraan looks at the skald intensely as he goes through his tale.

"Should you find no other employment, Master Amos of the giant-slaying lineage, you could become our town's storyteller."

[Othniel]

"I thank you," the Skald responds. "Storytelling is highly-revered among my mother's Ulfen people. My gift has provided well enough for me along the road. Travelers love stories, and are often willing to part with food and the shelter of company in reward for good tales. Perhaps in another life, I would have been the family's lorekeeper. But as it happens, I have already been offered a job by Agrit Staginsdar at her shop here in town."

[Comissar]

Rosora sits quietly, listening contentedly to Amos as he tells his story. It wasn't really her kind of tale, but it was well told. She pulls one of her knees up, resting her chin on it. When Amos comments on his plans for work, she stirs from her relaxed posture. "Sounds like a waste of talent to me. You're good with words, seems a shame to put you behind a counter."

[Cyclopean]

Engrossed in the story, Veyraan looks at the skald intensely as he goes through his tale.

"Should you find no other employment, Master Amos of the giant-slaying lineage, you could become our town's storyteller."

"You wound me, Veyraan. Are you suggesting my own abilities aren't up to the task?" laughs Rodrik.

"A lot of people who read The Other Side of Contempt seem to think so." jests Kurst.

"One of my better works. If you ask me," he says, lowering his voice, "the critics are all close-minded imbeciles. Anyway," he continues at his previous volume, "I was only joking. That was a fine tale, Amos, and masterfully told. I'm glad to have another in Trunau who's so devoted to the art of storytelling."


Rosora sits quietly, listening contentedly to Amos as he tells his story. It wasn't really her kind of tale, but it was well told. She pulls one of her knees up, resting her chin on it. When Amos comments on his plans for work, she stirs from her relaxed posture. "Sounds like a waste of talent to me. You're good with words, seems a shame to put you behind a counter."

"Indeed," agrees Rodrik. "On the other hand, I know how hard it can be to make a decent living off one's art alone. Could I perhaps tempt you to join the militia, instead? It leaves me enough time to pursue my craft, and it'd be a chance for Amos son of Amos son of Amos the Giantslayer to gain some glory of his own. We don't really have a problem with Giants--thank the gods--but we do have to contend with raiders from the orc tribes and occasional troublemakers from Freedom Town." He turns to the others at the table. "I'd love to see the rest of you join up too, of course. Maybe you're not all front-line fighters, but we can always use more scouts."

[Othniel]

Amos felt torn. On one hand, the memory of his grandfather’s adventures fresh in his mind from the tale, Amos longed for battle and glory. Yet he knew what his father would say. “Better ‘n honest job ‘n steady wage, than livin’ life by the blade!” It was one of the elder Drummond’s favorite sayings, particularly as the younger approached adulthood. These thoughts were then pushed out by others of his mother, an Ulfen woman somehow tamed by a simple blacksmith, a man untrained in the arts of war. Amos’ mother, Frydja, had been as he was now, a Skald descended in unbroken line from warrior-poets of old. She’d taught Amos many tales and songs of her homeland and of their ancestors. The tales, while often about bravery and valor in battle, were also about honor. And honor, Amos knew, involved keeping one’s word. His mind dwelt upon this last point as he considered Rodrik’s offer.

“I am sorry,” he replies. “But I have already agreed to work for Agrit Staginsdar, and Torag would have me consider my word as my bond.” The Skald pauses a moment to let his words sink in, and then smiles. “The Lady Staginsdar and I have not yet come to an arrangement regarding how many days out of the week I am to work for her. I will discuss the matter with her when we next meet, and if she is agreeable, I would be happy to spend the remaining day or two training with your militia; I should like a chance to show your boys how a son of the North wields an axe!” Offering his hand to the man, he continues, “I will, of course, not hesitate to aid in defense of the town should that become necessary.”

[Comissar]

Rosora grins to herself at the teasing Rodrik was receiving. Her heart sinks, however, at the request to rejoin the militia. Her mandatory service had not been a pleasant time. She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. The problem was, she had no source of income at the moment. Well, no legitimate source. Cham's hospitality would only last so long, and she couldn't keep relying on theft to get by. All the same...

"Mind if I get back to you on that one? I'm not sure I'm ready for another spell with the Militia just yet."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron has sort of a love hate relationship with the militia. It was a bit too structured for him, but he enjoyed scouting the areas outside of town.

"Well if I can join as more of a scout than the other stuff it would be nice."

[Geckus]

Damal hides a chuckle behind a cough when Rodrik mentions 'occasional troublemakers from Freedom Town'; if he hadn't met Bursi, odds were very good he'd have been one of them.

"I've no aversion to putting raiders down, but I'm not sure how well I'd handle being militia, to be honest. Grown to used to making my own hours, going where and when I please. And while you lads are certainly alright, I'd not put myself at the command of anyone I don't know well enough to trust my life too." Which ain't more than one man in all the world right now. "Maybe once I know your people, and they know me better."

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan blushes a little when reminded that the town already has a storyteller and she's talking to him. The subject of the militia isn't much more comfortable either...

"Er, I'm not sure I want back into the militia permanently..." the young woman says. "Even though I was successful enough in training", she adds, with a hint of childish pride. "But I'm happy to contribute to our town's defense. If you need me for a scouting mission one or the other day, you know where to find me."

[Cyclopean]

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're all prepared to protect Trunau," says Rodrik. "I don't mean to pressure any of you, of course. Just know that the militia would be more than happy to offer any of you employment should you need it. I'll have to ask about it, Byron, but I'm pretty sure we could set you up to be an outrider more than anything else. I'll let you know."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"Thanks. If the militia needs more people, I will join in either case."

[Cyclopean]

The evening wears on. The feasting, dancing, and drinking continue well into the night, but Rodrik leaves not long after it becomes dark. "I've had a long day," he says as he excuses himself. "Time to head back to the Ramblehouse and get some sleep. Keep an eye on my drunkard brother for me." Kurst slurs something that might be a witty retort, and gives his brother an affectionate smile.

The festivities eventually come to an end. You make your way to your lodgings, wherever they are, and quickly fall asleep.

The next morning, the residents of the Ramblehouse are woken by an awful scream. You hear the sound of rapid footfalls and confused voices soon after.

Those not staying in the Ramblehouse wake to find the town in a state of disarray. A crowd has gathered around the building, which is being roped off by the militia. Grisly rumors fly.

[Othniel]

Amos dons his gear and follows the crowd to the Ramblehouse. Upon arrival he looks around trying to see what all the fuss is about. Whether he notices anything or not, he asks the nearest person if they know what is happening.


[roll0]

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan enjoys the merrymaking for a good while, but the boisterousness and the crowd wear her down eventually. Longing for the outdoors and the starlight, she goes home before midnight, taking her time to stroll around and watch the sky on the way.

Come morning, she wakes up as usual, has breakfast with her parents, and doesn't get out immediately. As soon as she does, however, she's alarmed by the unusual atmosphere, and asks the nearest passerby what's going on.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Upon hearing the commotion Byron grabs his gear whistles for Quicksilver and mounts him on the run, by grabbing her mane and heading towards the crowd and commotion. Upon arriving, he stops Quicksilver and stand on his back and surveys the area.
"What's going on?"

perception [roll0]

[Comissar]

Rosora spends the remainder of the night letting others take centre stage. She speaks little about herself, deflecting personal questions away with humour. She is amongst the first to leave the party, making an excuse about Cham needing help at the Ramblehouse.

Her rest was uncomfortable, frequently disturbed by strange dreams of guilt and justice. The spectre of Ruby damningly glaring at her, pulling a tug of war against herself. She finally woke with bleary eyes to a grey morning. Her mind, still fuzzy with sleep, suddenly leapt to full wakefulness at the sound of the scream. Adrenaline coursed through her. The scream had been worryingly close. Getting dressed as quickly as she could, she raced out of her room and into the already gathering crowd. Shouldering her way through, she tried to get to the front to find out what was going on.

Did you want a perception?

[Geckus]

Damal is one of the last to finally stumble into his bed, after many hours spent drinking with Kurst and dancing with as many of the local ladies as humanly possible. So, needless to say, he is not at his best after being woken from his still somewhat inebriate sleep by a terrible scream. Lurching to his feet and grabbing at the axe he'd left leaning against the wall near the bed, he's halfway out the door of his room before realizing that he's wearing little more than his hair.

Huh, no more screaming...no sounds of fighting...damnation, my head hurts.

Backing into his room, Damal puts up his axe long enough to dress. Seeing his feathered friend dancing on the windowsill, he paused long enough to put out a generous bowl of seeds and berries for the raven before going to find out what all the commotion was about.

[Cyclopean]

Cham Larringfass, Proprietress of the Ramblehouse, has fainted in front of on of the rooms. One of the guests, a fellow halfling, appears to to be attempting to rouse her. People are running in all directions. "Get the militia!" someone calls out. A small, horrified crowd stares into the wide-open door. A tall, bearded man lies on a bloodstained bed. His wrists are cut opend, and he holds a hopeknife in a limp hand.

"Rodrik Grath is dead!"

Amos, Rosora, and Damal are able to witness the gruesome scene themselves. Byron and Veyraan have to sort through wild and conflicting rumors, but by the time the militia finishes clearing out the Ramblehouse, the prevailing story is that Patrol Captain Rodrik Grath is dead by apparent suicide, and while Cham Larringfass had a nasty shock, she's otherwise fine.

[Gwynfrid]

Rodrik... Suicide? how horrible!

Veyraan's reaction is one of complete shock. How could the friendly, self-assured commander she and the others were having beers with, just last night, appearing completely relaxed in spite of his important responsibility in the defense of Trunau... commit suicide?

That doesn't make any sense at all! She decides to go to the Ramblehouse to try and understand what might have happened.

[Othniel]

Amos is unsure what to make of the scene. It was fairly obvious, at least to the Skald, that the man had taken his own life with his hopeknife. That didn't make sense though. Amos thought back to the celebration for Ruby the day before, and distinctly remembered that the hopeknife was for situations where they faced death at the hands of their enemies, mainly the orcs that lived in the surrounding area. Why would Rodrik use the knife? Amos walks over to where Rosora is standing. "This doesn't make sense," the man says to her, shaking his head in confusion.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron hops off of Quicksilver and heads in, shaking his head. "Rodrik would never use his hope knife like that. Just yesterday he was recruiting for the Militia and I agreed to rejoin. I don't believe he killed himself and certainly not like that."

[Comissar]

Rosora finally made it to the front of the scene, and immediately regretted it. She was forced to turn away from the gruesome sight of the deceased captain. Feeling queasy, she started to move back through the crowd and almost walked straight into Amos. At his comment, she looked up at him. Her expression was still shocked. She shook her head slowly. "I... Can't believe he'd do that."

[Geckus]

"Ah, hells."

Looking into the rooms where Rodrik lay dead, Damal doesn't show much outward sign horror or dismay; he'd seen too many sad, ugly deaths for another to break his composure, especially given he barely knew the man. Still, he did feel a kind of sick sadness at the thought of what Kurst would go though once he heard the news.

Nothing can hurt you like family...

After being cleared out of the Ramblehouse along with the other residents, Damal spots several of the others from last night's celebration and moves to join them. "Hell of a thing, suicide. Never makes sense to those on the outside of it." Overhearing Byron's comment about the hope knife, he asks, "What was that you called his knife, Byron?" Clearly he hadn't been paying enough attention when Halgra explained the significance of the hopeknife during Ruby's coming of age ceremony. "Some reason you think it odd he'd use that?"

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron nods. "When we become adults we swear to defend each other and the town to the death. The hope knife is given as a sign of adulthood. It is used to kill oneself if all else fails and you are going to be captured and to kill your comrades in the same eventuality."

[Othniel]

"An interesting practice," Amos states, looking at Byron. "Though not to my tastes. I would rather die in battle, blade in hand, cursing death at my enemies, as I enter the halls of Torag!" He pauses and looks over in the direction of Rodrik's body. "Not murdered in my sleep, for that is what it appears has happened."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"I don't think this death has anything to do with the true purpose of a hope knife." As much as Byron had never taken his vows seriously this disturbed him. It was not just the death of a good man and a friend, it was the manner. Who would do that?

[Cyclopean]

Not long after the Ramblehouse is cleared out and the crowd surrounding it begins to thin, you catch sight of Kurst among the militia. His hair is unkempt, his eyes are red, and he appears to be arguing with his father, Patrol Leader Jagrin Grath. Though more stoic than his surviving son, you can sense that the loss weighs upon him as well.

After a brief moment more of quiet, intense discussion, Jagrin shakes his head and turns away. Kurst sags, and begins to tread away from the Ramblehouse when he spots you. He manages to quicken his pace and approaches you with a pleading expression.

"Please," he says, "meet me at the Commons later today." He pauses, awkward and unsure of how to continue. "At noon. Yes. I...we...I need to talk with you."

[Gwynfrid]

Having heard the news, come to see the scene for herself, Veyraan quickly turns her head in horror. Her mind remains numb for several minutes. Not possible... No... Why? Her thoughts are incoherent, until she manages to collect herself.

As she turns to leave dejectedly, she sees Kurst in the crowd. Deliberately, she comes towards him, a look of great grief on her face. "Er... er... I wanted to tell you, your loss is also my loss, as it is everyone's here. Also... I just cannot make myself believe in this absurd suicide story."

She listens to Kurst's request, and replies. "I will come. I told him he could count on my help, should it be needed. That promise will be kept, alas, even more so now." At that, she bursts into tears.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

After hearing Kurst's plea, Byron places his hand on Kurst's shoulder. "I am so sorry. I will be there my friend."

[Geckus]

Damal nods and says, "I'll be there."

He looks more uncomfortable at the sight of Veyraan's tears than he did upon seeing Rodrik's body; he half raises a hand before pausing, not sure whether he should try and comfort her, or what he could possibly say that would make things better. Finally he steps away, picking at his fingernails with a small knife that appears in his hands as if by magic.

[Comissar]

Rosora was vaguely aware that the casual discussion of whether Rodrik had killed himself or not should have appalled her, but she merely felt numb to all of it. She saw Kurst and Jagrin talking intently a short distance away and felt a pang of sympathy for them. They would take the loss hard, of course they would.

When Kurst comes over, she looks up at him sadly. She nods at his request, "Of course I'll be there."

She hesitates, glancing over to Jagrin. Feeling she should say something, she walks over to the stoic Patrol Leader. Her heart was hammering as she did so. The man terrified her, but she couldn't ignore his pain here. She cleared her throat, "Uh... Sir, I... I'm sorry. If I can help at all..."

[Othniel]

"Certainly, Kurst," Amos agrees. "I cannot speak for these others here, but if I may be of aid in any way, do not hesitate to let me know." The Skald looks over at Damal after Kurst leaves, a question upon his lips, "What do you suppose he wants?"

[Geckus]

"Not rightly sure...maybe to see if his brother spoke with any of us after our earlier parting, to try and make some sense of this." Frowning as he works at his nails with the knife, Damal spits into the dirt and shakes his head. "Or maybe Kurst believes the same as our newfound friends here," he glances at Byron, Rosora and Veyraan, "and wants to talk with those who think the same."

"One thing bugs me about this, now that I think on it...why was he at the Ramblehouse? He's a local boy, and I thought only halflings and travelers stayed there."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron shrugged. "He could have been recruiting as he was with us, but I don't think he went to kill himself there."

[Cyclopean]

Kurst blinks rapidly, trying not to tear up. "Thank you...thank you, so much. I, I need to go." He gives you a nod, and walks off.

Jagrin frowns. "Thank you, Rosora, but there's not much else to do here," he says, his voice stiff. "Excuse me. I'm needed elsewhere."

When you meet up with Kurst again, he's regained most of his composure. You can still see grief in his eyes, however, not to mention the lingering effects of last night's drinking.

http://i.imgur.com/R1PyFeT.jpg

"Thank you again for coming," he says. "As you know, Rodrik was found dead this morning. I've had my hands full since then, trying to get his affairs in order. Right now, the official cause of death is suicide. Veyraan, you said earlier that you don't believe it. I don't either—something else is going on here. Unfortunately, Rodrik was the best investigator we had. If he were on the case, solving the mystery of his death wouldn’t take long, but now that he's gone, we might never know what really happened.” Kurst sighs heavily.

“I can’t handle the investigation and tend to my family duties at the same time. I may be a patrol captain, but right now, my responsibilities as a brother outweigh any others. Still, I can’t just let this lie. I’ve exhausted all my other options—members of the militia are competent defenders, but they’re hardly sleuths. I need your help. Will you investigate my brother’s death?”

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron nods. "You have my word, we will get to the bottom of this. Rodrik did not kill himself."

"Do you have any idea who might want him dead?"

[Othniel]

Amos thought back to his past, such as it was for the young man. He hadn't any enemies that he knew of, although he figured there might be a barmaid or two with a disagreement. He grinned inwardly at the thought, and then dismissed it quickly. Now was not the time. A man lay dead, possibly by malicious intent, and the victim's brother was before him asking for help. He silently asked Torag to give him the strength to keep his honor in such an endeavor. He stays silent as Byron questions the man, and then asks one of his own, "Aye, that would be a good place to start. I'd also want to know if you know why your brother was in the Ramblehouse. Does he stay there often, or visit someone?"

[Cyclopean]

"I don't have any idea who might want him gone, or why, but I do have a few leads. You might want to investigate the scene of the crime, of course. Maybe talk to Cham Larringfass while you're there. I imagine the Ramblehouse will have reopened by now. Then there's Brinya Kelver, a half-orc weaver. She and Rodrik had been seeing each other in secret for some time now. Well, I could care less about her heritage, but I can't say the same about dad. He somehow caught wind of the affair, and he and Rodrik had a falling out over it. That's why he's been staying at the Ramblehouse, Amos.

"Omast Frum could also be worth talking to. He's a patrol sergeant in the militia, and a friend to both Rodrik and myself since we were kids. He and Rodrik were frequent patrol partners. Now, these are leads, not suspects. I'm not accusing any of them. They're just people Rodrik would have interacted with recently, and maybe they'll have noticed something I missed."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron listens quietly and carefully and finally nods. "I am not so great with people. I am going to search where he died before it gets to messed up."

[Geckus]

"I'll join you in checking out the room, Byron; my way of asking questions is probably a bit too rough to start with." Damal looks over at the rest of the group. "Leaves Cham, Brinya and Omast between the three of you, unless y'all want to stick together or join us in taking a look about." Turning back to Kurst, he asks, "Have the militia done aught with your brother's room, or is it as it was this morning? Wouldn't want to mistake anything they might have done in there for a clue."

[Othniel]

The Skald nods at Damal's suggestion. It would probably be best if they split up, even though more eyes combing the area might be more likely to spot something helpful. Amos figured they needed to find the murderer swiftly, lest he or she manage to flee the town ahead of discovery. Speaking slowly and thoughtfully, Amos gestures to Rosora and Veyraan. "It might be better if two or three of us concentrated on the people Kurst mentioned. Rosora and Veyraan, you each probably know best who you might approach easiest for information, but I am thinking I might have a word with Omast Frum, and see if he knew whether Rodrik had any enemies, or at least disagreements, with anyone in the militia who might wish him harm." He pauses, waiting for the others to voice their opinions before adding, "That is, if it is agreeable."

[Cyclopean]

Kurst shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah, they've already moved the body to the Sanctuary. I'm not sure if they did anything as far as cleaning up; you'd have to ask Cham. I don't think that the militia was thorough about investigating the room, though, if they investigated it at all. They think it's a suicide, after all."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"The sooner we check it the better. The less likely things will be moved."

[Comissar]

Rosora stayed quiet during the discussion of what to do about Rodrik's death. It still seemed unreal. At the suggestion of examining the room he died in, her face blanched. She didn't know what would still be there, and she wasn't eager to find out either. "I'll talk to Cham, make sure she's ok as well." She was amazed at how steady her voice was, at complete odds with the way she was feeling. She looked up at the others, a careful mask of calm on her face. All the boys seemed determined to resolve this as soon as possible. But Veyraan... Her composure nearly fell away as she saw the younger girls tears.

"Veyraan, why don't you come with me?"

[Gwynfrid]

The time until noon has given Veyraan a chance to regain her composure, but it is still a very distraught young girl who comes to the meeting with Kurst. She listens silently to the exchanges, softly nodding in approval when the consensus arises against the notion of suicide. When the more practical-minded attendees already begin to plan their next moves, she feels it is a little rushed, but decides to go along. Do something, yes... better than stay listless and crying all day.

"I'll be all right, I think, thank you, Rosora." Her eyes still a little red, she casts a grateful half-smile at her halfling friend trying to comfort her. "There's Brinya, too. I could go and see her. I didn't know Rodrik and her were... together..." In truth, she feels less than confident at the idea of reaching out to the Captain's bereaved girlfriend, just on the day he died, but she resolves to do her part nevertheless. I told Rodrik I would help him when he needed me to. Not when I felt well enough to do it.

Question to the DM: Does Veyraan know Brinya already? I would expect in a small community like Trunau everybody knows each other?

[Cyclopean]

"Very few people knew about them," says Kurst. "I was one of just a handful of people to know about their engagement. Please do go check up on the poor girl when you get the chance; I'd do it myself, but my father has forbidden me from talking with 'that half-orc temptress,' as he calls her." He makes a sour face.

"By the way, splitting up would be a good way to cover more ground, but I'd be wary of spreading yourselves too thin. Rodrik and I noticed you each seem to have different talents. One of you might see something or know something the others wouldn't. I'm putting the investigation in your hands, of course, so it's up to you to decide how best to handle it, but I'd feel better knowing you've each seen all the evidence. What's more," he continues, lowering his voice, "I'm not certain how safe Trunau is right now. If we're correct, there's a murderer at large, and they could still be at large. At the very least, try not to spend too much time alone."

Trunau has a population of 780, so it's not quite "everybody knows everybody" small. Since you're not trained in Knowledge (local), I randomly determined that Veyraan isn't familiar with Brinya. You should still be able to find her without the need for rolls, though.

Kurst is advising against splitting the party, but so long as you don't have anyone flying solo, I think I can manage it.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron sees how things are effecting the girls and with along with Kurst's wishes makes a decision. "Well, lets all stick together then. Lets check the scene of the death first and keep in mind, if he didn't commit suicide then he was killed and we must be careful, things could be dangerous."

[Gwynfrid]

Not keen to see the grisly scene again, Veyraan responds, looking embarrassed. "Er... there should be enough of you folks checking out the Ramblehouse. Let's work in groups, then we can get together and share findings. Kurst is right, one shouldn't go alone. I'll go with you, Rosara, and talk to Cham, and after that, to Brenya, if that's all right?"

[Comissar]

Rosora nods, breathing out softly. "That's fine by me. We might as well all head over to the Ramblehouse together, though. We'll find Cham while you see if you can find anything."

She glances down the road in the direction of the Ramblehouse, "Unless anyone had a different idea, of course."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"Sure, but be careful. If someone killed him they might not take kindly to someone digging **** up."

[Othniel]

Amos nods, hefting his axe over his shoulder. "Well, let's get moving. We must act swiftly lest the culprit escape."

[Geckus]

"Fair enough, I'll catch right up."

Waiting a few moments after the rest of the group starts on their way, Damal claps Kurst lightly on the shoulder. "We'll come find you as soon as we have anything, but I need to know something else first. If this is murder and we do turn up the one responsible...how do you want the guilty dealt with?"

Somewhat belated realizing that question might sound a bit suspect (he'd meant it as 'fetch the militia or bring him in ourselves'), Damal considers trying to rephrase it, but in the end just waits to see what Kurst's response is.

Good to know the character of the men you'll be living near; times like this show you who they really are.

[Cyclopean]

Kurst's expression darkens, and he bows his head. "Bring them in alive if you can," he says after a moment of thought. "We'll have plenty of questions for them, and Rodrik wouldn't want to see us stoop to vigilante justice. And if you want to contact me, ask for me at the Longhouse. I might be elsewhere, arranging the funeral or setting Rodrik's affairs in order, but if you leave word I'll find you as soon as I can."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron heads to the Ramblehouse with the intent to examine the sight of the death.

[Othniel]

Amos falls into step next to Byron, speaking as they walk toward the Ramblehouse. "What do you make of this, Byron? I am a stranger here, and do not know any folk besides the few I have met, yourself and these others included."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"I make nothing of it, other than I don't think it was suicide." He looks at Amos for a moment. "Come to think of it, if we find signs of murder, some may tend to be suspicious of strangers...stay close."

[Gwynfrid]

Listening to the sobering discussion of a murderer at large in Trunau, Veyraan silently follows the group. She doesn't share her thoughts, but her sense of dread is visible for all to see. Somehow, she feels her quiet life is about to be changed forever, and today's terrible event is the starting point of something much bigger.

[Comissar]

Rosora walked along in uncomfortable silence. The party last night seemed a million years ago now, the jovial atmosphere and general spirit of friendliness completely wiped away in the face of the tragedy. She became aware that Veyraan was in a similarly black mood. Glancing up at her, she reached up and squeezed her arm. When she had the younger girls attention, she mouthed You ok?

[Geckus]

Damal nods in response to Kurst's word.

"You are a better man than most I've known, Kurst Grath. I'll do my best to honor your wishes, and his, in this."

Setting off towards the Ramblehouse, Damal sets a brisk pace to catch up with the others by the time they reach the doors of the inn.

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan responds to Rosora's friendly gesture with a grateful glance, and a firm enough nod.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Upon seeing the dread grow in Veyraan and Rosora's silence, Byron grows concerned. Death, the potential of a murder, lies and danger. He could see it, but he doesn't linger on it.
"I know things seem bleak, but we are all in this together and we will figure it out ... together."

[Cyclopean]

The tinkling of a small bell announces your arrival as you step into the Ramblehouse. "Good afternoon!" Cham greets you, her tone as bright as the bell's, if harsher. "welcome back, Rosora, Mr. Lowren, Mr. Drummond. Apologies for the inconvenience this morning--damn shame about the...oh! Didn't see you two there," she says, turning her focus to Byron and Veyraan. "Been a while, hasn't it? Can I help you?"

[Comissar]

Rosora gives Cham a smile in greeting, "Hey Cham, do you have a spare moment?"

Doing a sense motive for Cham's mood. I imagine there must be some degree of 'stiff upper lip' going on

[roll0]

[Othniel]

Amos follows on Rosora's heels, nodding to the proprietress. He replies in a friendly, if somewhat subdued tone, "Afternoon, ma'am." He decides to let Rosora do the talking for now, figuring that the questions of someone known to the owner of the establishment might do better than those of a stranger.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron is itching to get to Rodrik's place of death, but people skills were not his thing. He was hoping someone else would get them access.

[Cyclopean]

"Sure thing, Rosora. What can I help you with?" She leans forward, and lowers her voice to something well above a whisper. "Is it about a man?" she winks.

You can detect a bit of strain in Cham's voice. She's clearly had a hell of a day.

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan stands at the back of the group, listening intently, but happy to let others drive the conversation.

[Comissar]

Rosora's expression turns to one of mock embarrassment, Cham's forced levity helping to lift her mood. "Cham, did you have to say that in front of the boys?" She glances conspiratorially up to Veyraan and then back to Cham, "If we're going to talk about something like that, maybe we ought to do so in private?"

[Cyclopean]

Cham grins. "Well, I'd certainly be amenable to that." She looks up at Byron, Damal, and Amos. "Did you boys need anything, then?"

[Othniel]

Amos

"Well Miss Larringfass, it's like this," Amos responds, "Kurst Grath has asked us to check into a few things involving his brother's passing, so we would like to see his room here."

[Geckus]

A slight grin reaches Damal's face at Cham 'not quite whisper' and Rosora's response; some levity in the face of tragedy would be good for them.

"Like Amos said. Don't mean to be a bother to you, but needs to be done sooner than later."

[Cyclopean]

Cham's smile falters and breaks. "Nasty business," she says, a hint of nervousness creeping into her voice. "I'll take you right to it."

Rodrik's room is up a flight of stairs and near the end of one of the inn's twisting corridors. Aside from the door being closed, the room is not secured in any way. "Will that be all?"

[Othniel]

"I think so," Amos replies, looking at the others. "Unless anyone else has a question for Ms. Larringfass."

[Comissar]

Rosora winces at Amos' lack of subtlety. She'd been trying to be tactful, ease Cham into such a difficult topic. Asking her if she'd seen anything strange would be harder now.

She follows Cham upstairs in uncomfortable silence. Once they're outside Rodrik's room, she shakes her head in response to Amos' question. Instead, she looks over to Cham with concern. "Come on, Cham, I'll make you a coffee."

[Geckus]

Once they reach the door to Rodrik's room, Damal says, "We'll try and be as quick as we can."

As soon as Rosora starts to lead Cham away, he opens the door and steps inside, waiting for the others before closing the door behind them; he'd rather not have anyone passing in the halls looking in on them while they conduct their investigation.

"Well, we best get looking then."

Perception: [roll0]

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron opens the door to the room and looks in to see what the state of the room is.

Perception [roll0]

[Cyclopean]

Cham nods. "Thanks, Rosy." A little of her previous cheer returns to her voice. She leads you to the kitchen. A few boarders, most of them halflings, linger in the room with the remains of their lunches.

Rodrik's room is a small, sparsely furnished affair. The low, wooden cot has already been stripped of its linens, but the reddened straw mattress remains. A single stool and a bare writing desk with a few drawers comprise the rest of the room's furniture. A cracked window to the south is the only other exit.

While stooping to look beneath the bed, Byron notices a scrap of folded paper wedged between the frame and the wall.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron takes the note and reads it. "Odd. Rodrik bought a hope knife... for himself?" He shows the others.

http://i.imgur.com/yrCgcBS.jpg

[Othniel]

Amos

The Skald peers over Byron's shoulder at the receipt. "How strange. Why would someone buy a hopeknife for himself when he already has one? And have it engraved to himself as if it were from...oh." Amos stops mid-sentence and looks at the others. "What if he lost his hopeknife and didn't want someone to know, someone whose opinion he valued, so he ordered a replacement?"

"Just think," he continued. "If my father had given me his prized hammer and had it engraved, but I lost it, I'd be ashamed." Amos nodded to himself as he thought about it. "Though I'm not sure I'd go so far as to have a replacement made."

[Comissar]

Ignoring the other boarders, Rosora heads to the stove and put a kettle of water on to boil. While she waits, she returns to Cham and Veyraan. Unsure of what to say, she settles for a generic question, "Are you holding up ok?"

[Geckus]

"Huh...could be, Amos, could be. Can't think of any better reason to have it engraved that way." After giving it a bit of thought, Damal adds, "Didn't know him long, but Rodrik struck me as a talker...maybe he said something to the smith, Urnsul?"

Not much to be seen here; body's already gone, but it wouldn't have told me much anyways. Maybe we should talk to the town healer, have him take a look before they bury Rodrik...or burn him, or whatever they do around here.

Wandering over to the window, Damal takes a quick look to see if it opens easily and where it faces out to - if this was more than a simple suicide, somebody might have got in or out that way.

"If his girl did give him a gift that this knife was a replacement for and found out that he'd had to have it replaced, well, might have been suicide after all, if it's that important a gift."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"Lets take a quick look around and then go talk to the smith."

Bryon carefully examines the room looking for anything that stands out.

Perception Take 20 for 24

[Othniel]

Amos

"Good idea. The smith, and then perhaps either the fiancee or the militia captain." Amos casts one more look about the room to see if they missed anything.


Just because I forgot a perception check earlier:
Perception: [roll0]

[Smileybastard]

Bryon

"We could ask around if anyone come into, or leave his room. Why the militia captain?"

[Cyclopean]

"Oh, you know how it is," says Cham. "Always busy here. Plenty of customers upset with being turned out taking it up with me instead of the militia. I mean, yes, of course I won't be charging you breakfast if I don't serve it.!" She sighs and shakes her head. "It was a nasty shock this morning, of course. Never seen anything so awful..." she trails off.

The window slides open with some difficulty. A narrow-framed individual could squeeze through the opening, and though the 15-foot drop wouldn't be fun, it'd hardly be insurmountable.

While examining the (empty) drawers of the writing desk, Byron discovers that one of the drawers has a false bottom. It doesn't appear to be concealing anything at present, though.

[Gwynfrid]

"Did... did you know him well?" Veyraan blurts out, stumbling a little on her words. I certainly didn't expect this new role when I got out of bed this morning.

[Cyclopean]

"Oh, well, we all knew Rodrik," says Cham as she halfheartedly cleans the counter. "Can't say I knew him better than anyone else, but I loved his plays. Hommel and Brekka especially, I've always been a sucker for a good romance."

[Geckus]

"Window sticks a bit, and a bit of a drop; not likely anyone made their way in or out this way. Good idea about checking if he had any visitors though, Byron; we should check with Cham to see who was in last night and might have noticed a visitor. We good to move on then lads?"

Barring objections from Byron or Amos, Damal will head back downstairs to meet up with the ladies and see how their conversation with Cham was progressing.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"Lets go." Byron heads down, disappointed they found only the receipt.

[Othniel]

Amos

Following Byron and Damal down to the kitchen, Amos takes a seat near the women, eyeing Byron and waiting for him to disclose what they had learned to the others. He mutters quietly to himself instead, "There must be more pieces to this puzzle."

[Comissar]

As she listened to Veyraan and Cham talking, Rosora stood and went back to the kettle. Pouring the water into a cup, she mixed in some ground coffee beans and milk. As she returned to the table, she was surprised to see the boys had decided to join them. Did they not trust Veyraan and herself?

"Here you go, Cham." She set the mug of coffee down in front of the older Halfling. She hesitated, not wanting to upset the woman, "Cham... Speaking of romances... Did you know about Brinya and Rodrik?"

[Cyclopean]

Cham's eyes widen. "What about them? You don't mean...really? A couple?" She thinks a moment, and shrugs. "I guess it makes some sense, considering his work," she says with a wry smile. "You know, the forbidden romance in Hommel and Brekka? And The Other Side of Contempt certainly raised a few eyebrows, but I don't think anyone would have expected Rodrik to be quite so...intimate with orc-kin." Her face becomes more serious. "Does Jagrin know? I can't imagine he'd be pleased if he found out."

[Gwynfrid]

"Er, I have never seen the play. It sounds interesting! Do you know where I could find the text?" Veyraan blushes a little bit. "You think his father would have rejected his, er, relationship with a half-orc?"

That play... Come to think of it... What if there was a clue in his work?

[Comissar]

Rosora nods in affirmation, "Yeah, apparently Jagrin knew and disapproved."

She listens to Veyraan's request to see a copy of the play, and a small smile forms on her face. "I'm sure we could ferret out a copy from somewhere," Her eyes wander over to Cham as her smile grows more mischievous, "You wouldn't happen to be reading it at the moment, would you?"

[Cyclopean]

Cham shakes her head. "Can't say that I am. I'd ask Kurst--he's taking care of Rodrik's funeral and estate, right? Besides, Rodrik could usually convince his brother to perform minor parts. I'm sure he's got some scripts somewhere."

[Comissar]

Rosora shrugs lightly, "That's fair enough..." She looks down at the table pensively. She just couldn't think of a way to ask this gently...

"Cham... We need to know... Was Rodrik acting like himself recently? Do you know if he'd gotten himself mixed up in anything?"

[Gwynfrid]

"Kurst... That's a good idea, I'll go ask him." Veyraan goes silent, listening to Cham's answers to Rosora's questions.

[Cyclopean]

Mmm...no. Everything's been normal, as far as I can tell. I haven't noticed anything unusual with Rodrik, or in general." Cham purses her lips.

[Geckus]

Tromping back downstairs with Byron and Amos, Damal begins to approach the table where Rosora and Veyraan are seated with Cham. Seeing that they are still talking with the inn's owner, he alters course to end up leaning against a wall nearby - close enough to catch most of what's being said without obviously butting into their conversation. While they talk, he studies Cham's body language and posture as much as her words; a trick he'd learned from his dwarven mentor.


Sense Motive with Studied target [roll0]

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan politely thanks the halfling. "Now, we should go talk to a few other people."

[Othniel]

Amos

Amos nods in agreement with Veyraan. "Urnsul, perhaps? I would like to see what this smith may tell us."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"Yes, I would like to talk to Urnsul and find the answer to the knife."

[Cyclopean]

Cham takes her coffee, politely wishes you a good day, and returns to her desk.

Sara is hard at work when you arrive at clamor. Seeing you enter, she calls over one of her apprentices to replace her at the bellows. "Good to see you all," she says, stepping forward. "Can I help you?"

[Othniel]

Amos

"Hello, Sara. Nice to see you again, though I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances." Amos gestures to the others. "These are my new friends: Damal, Byron, Veyraan, and Rosora. You may know the latter three." The Skald hesitates for a moment, and then continues. "We were wondering if we might speak to a smith named Urnsul."

[Cyclopean]

Sara frowns. "I wish you could," she says with anoyance. "The clumsy girl's gone truant. I haven't seen her all day."

[Othniel]

Amos

Amos mirrors the frown. Something about this bothered him. It was far too coincidental that someone who had had dealings with Rodrik hadn't been to work that day. "When did you last see her?"

[Comissar]

Rosora follows after the group into Sara's establishment. Partly because she doesn't know Sara nearly as well as she did Cham, she is content to let Amos do the talking for her. Her comment about comment about Urnsul's truancy didn't really surprise her, the news of Rodrik's death had hit a lot of people hard.

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan listens into the conversation, content to leave the Skald ask the questions.

I might ask questions later but have nothing to add now.

[Cyclopean]

"It would have been a day ago. Maybe two--I was busy with the hopeknife ceremony yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't notice her missing. Hmm...no, I think she was around. Why did you all want to talk to her?" Sara speaks mostly to Amos, but keeps glancing at Rosora. It seems the halfling's reputation as a thief has not entirely worn off.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"Well ... it is normal for her to vanish like that? We wanted to discuss something she made for Rodrik. A hope knife."

[Cyclopean]

"No, she's been working here for weeks now, and she's never missed a day until now. Might be I could answer your questions, though. I have to ask, though, why the interest? Does this have something to do with...his estate?" She sighs and looks at the floor. "It's a damn shame. Never imagined he'd do anything like that."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"Something like that. A receipt was found among Rodrik's belongings for a hope knife, but there was no knife. It raised some questions and we would just like to learn what we can."

[Geckus]

Didn't show up for work, eh? Now that's a bit odd, especially if she's normally reliable.

Damal is content to stand quietly in the background for now; with an ear on the conversation, he casts his gaze around the forge, watching the smith's apprentices at their work.

[Gwynfrid]

"Hmm, maybe we should go and visit her? Where does she live?"

A shadow of worry passes over Veyraan's face. I hope nothing happened to her, too.

[Cyclopean]

"Can't say I know. It might be that I'd be able to answer a few of your questions if I could see that receipt, though." She looks at Byron askance. "Of course, I'd want to know how it is you're the ones who ended up with it. Last I checked, none of you belong to the militia."

[Othniel]

Amos

"That is true; none of us are current members of the militia. Kurst has asked us to...look into the matter of his brother's death." Amos pauses and gestures to Byron. "Byron here found the receipt in Rodrik's room, and we figured we would follow up on it; perhaps see if Urnsul could provide us with any information."

[Cyclopean]

"Alright then," Sara nods, satisfied with the answer. She takes the receipt from Byron and takes out her ledger containing her own records and compares the two. Looking up, she says "Well, I can confirm that Rodrik ordered a new hopeknife a week ago. I did the preliminary work on the blade myself before handing it off to an apprentice to finish. Urnsul, apparently. I wonder where it went--it should be around here somewhere." She then spends the next few moments fruitlessly searching the shop. Eventually she throws up her hands. "Looks like that clumsy oaf Unsul put it somewhere and forgot about it. Well, I'll let you know if I find it. Sorry I can't help you find Urnsul--I think she might have been staying at the Ramblehouse."

[Gwynfrid]

"All right, thank you very much! We'll go and see if we can find her." Veyraan respectfully answers the powerful half-orc councilwoman.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

"Thanks. You don't happen to recall why he was having a hope knife made do you?"

[Cyclopean]

"No. I'd ask Brinya about that."

[Comissar]

Rosora nods a thankyou to Sara. Even if the woman didn't entirely trust her, she could still be polite. Walking out of the smith's, she rubs her eyes with one hand. "So... I guess I'll try and find Urnsul when I go back home? I'm not sure it's going to get us anywhere, though. It seems to me like we should talk to Brinya more than anyone..." She hesitates, "Umm... Though she should probably be given some space for a bit before we start prying..."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron looks surprised. "So you were aware something was going in between them?"

[Cyclopean]

Sara flushes. "I--I shouldn't have said anything." Her expression turns from embarrassment to wistfulness. "Not that it matters much anymore, I suppose. Still, try not to spread it around. Best not gossip about the dead and grieving."

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron looks down. "Our intent is not to spread anything around, but to find out what happened. None of believe it was suicide."

[Othniel]

Amos

Amos nods along with what Byron is saying. "And Urnsul seems to be mixed up in it, whether as an innocent third party or something more, it is too soon to tell." He pauses and scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Her absence worries me though. I fear either she had something to do with the deed, or there may be another victim." After letting that last sink in for a moment, he continues, "But it is getting late, and I am hungry. We could head to the Ramblehouse, and after checking to see if Urnsul is there, perhaps we can eat dinner there? I also need to stop by and speak with Agrit Staginsdar, and figure out when I will work for her, considering the investigation and all."

[Cyclopean]

"Well, something's going on, anyway. I hope you all can get to the bottom of it." As you leave her shop, Sara wishes you a good evening and returns to her work.

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan thanks Sara. As she leaves, her concern is apparent to all. "Let's pay a quick visit o the Ramblehouse. Urnsul's absence worries me..."

[Geckus]

"Back to the Ramblehouse again...we didn't see her when we were there not that long ago, so unless she's been hiding up in her room, she's not likely to be there now." Damal shakes his head. "Got to agree with Rosora on this one; be better to talk to Brinya, or Rodrik's watch partner."

[Cyclopean]

The hour has grown late; while you discuss your options, the sun sinks below the horizon.

As you are walking through the streets of Trunau, your conversation is interrupted by the sound of feral snarling. Four wolves appear from behind a building, close enough to see the slaver dripping from their jaws. Though no larger than a typical dog, their red eyes are full of hunger and bloodlust.


The first combat arrives! I think it will be simple enough that we can manage without a map. The wolves are about 40 feet in front of you, and they don't look happy. There is no surprise round.

Wolves: [roll]1d20+4{/roll] 15

Rosora: [roll0]
Amos: [roll1]
Damal: [roll2]
Veyraan: [roll3]
Byron: [roll4]

Veyraan is up. After her, we'll have the wolves, and then the entire party will be up.

[Gwynfrid]

Walking the streets of Trunau, Veyraan expects nothing but a safe day, and is more preoccupied by the slowly uncovering details of Rodrik's life and death than by any possible threat on the town's peace. When a pack of wolves appears all a sudden, her surprise is total. But it quickly gives way to fear. Reaching at an object hanging on a leather string around her neck, she puts it into her mouth and blows with all the strength of her lungs - it is a whistle, but no sound can be heard whatsoever.

I'm working on the assumption Grobec is flying somewhere within hearing distance for the silent whistle to call him. If not, well, tough luck.

[Cyclopean]

Veyraan hears Grobec cry out in response to her whistle. He should arrive soon.

The wolves charge forward, howling.


Grobec will arrive at the start of Veyraan's next turn and be able to take actions normally.

The wolves charge Rosora, Byron, Damal, and Amos, all of whom are flat footed. Misses are struck through.

Attack on Rosora: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Trip: [roll2]

Attack on Byron: [roll3]
Damage: [roll4]
Trip: [roll5]
I'm confirming the crit with real dice, so as to avoid double-posting.
Crit confirmation: 5

Attack on Damal: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]
Trip: [roll8]

Attack on Amos: [roll9]
Damage: [roll10]
Trip: [roll11]

Byron and Damal: make fort saves.


One wolf tries to take a bite out of Rosora, but her strike is a wide miss. Another fails to get past Amos's armor. Byron and Damal feel teeth sinking into their calves, and an instant later come crashing to the ground.

[Othniel]

Amos

The Skald takes a step backward out of the wolves' reach and draws his greataxe. Then he takes a deep breath and starts a loud battle chant, its words telling of a warrior's victory over beasts.

5' step backward
Move action to draw weapon
Standard action to start inspired rage raging song

Inspired Rage (Su) At 1st level, affected allies gain a +2 morale bonus to Strength and Constitution and a +1 morale bonus on Will saving throws, but also take a –1 penalty to AC. While under the effects of inspired rage, allies other than the skald cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride) or any ability that requires patience or concentration. At 4th level and every 4 levels thereafter, the song's bonuses on Will saves increase by 1; the penalty to AC doesn't change. At 8th and 16th levels, the song's bonuses to Strength and Constitution increase by 2. (Unlike the barbarian's rage ability, those affected are not fatigued after the song ends.)

[Comissar]

Rosora yells out in wordless surprise as the wolf charges at her. The creature's snapping jaws mere inches from her face, Rosora's militia training takes over and she jumps backward out of its range. Safely out of biting range, at least for now, Rosora grabbed one of the knives she carried with her. Pulling it free of its sheath, she became aware of Amos' song. The words stir something in her, filling her with confidence in her own ability. Brandishing her knife, she prepared herself to fight.

5 foot step back, drawing a Dagger and accepting Amos' bonuses from his song. No other actions for Rosora :smallsmile:

[Geckus]

Damal curses as the wolf's fangs pierce the light leather guarding his leg, and curses again as the wolf drags him to the ground. Knowing full well how dangerous it was to remain that way, he tries to fight his way to his feet, lashing out with the axe that had found his hand before he consciously thought to reach for it, not expecting to hit but hoping to buy a bit of space.

Fort save [roll0]

Standard action to fight defensively this round (-4 attack, +2 AC), move action to stand up from prone.
Pass on the Inspired Rage.

Attack [roll1] -4 from prone, -4 defensive fighting
Damage [roll2] (2 handed grip on axe)

[Cyclopean]

Damal's axe lands in the ground beside the wolf. As he struggles to stand, the rabid beast tries to bite him again, though his attack proves no more effectual than Damal's.


Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Trip: [roll2]

[Gwynfrid]

The young girl points a slightly shaky finger at the wolf that just brought Byron down, and takes a sling from her pouch, all the while watching the wolves, ready to duck in the case one attacks her.

Coming from nowhere with hardly a warning sound, a massive bird swoops down the street and gives a sharp blow of its massive beak to the wolf as its passes, before it flies on, retrieving some altitude as it begins turning around. It is an enormous bird, its wingspan at least as wide as a grown man's height. Its long, wide feathers are dark brown in color, and Amos notices its bloodshot eyes.

Veyraan
Free action, Handle Animal (attack) DC10 [roll0]
Standard action, total defense
Move action, draw sling.

Grobec
Flyby Attack, bite [roll1] damage [roll2]

Veyraan
HP 10
AC 18 (+1 armor, +2 Dex, +4 dodge), CMD 15
Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +6
Sling: +3 (1d4)
Str 7, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 13, Wis 17, Cha 10

Grobec
HP 11 (13 with rage effect)
AC 18 (+5 natural, +4 Dex, -1 rage effect), CMD 14
Fort +2 (+3 with rage), Ref +3, Will +1 (+2 with rage)
Bite: +3 (1d6+2), 2x Talon +3 (1d4+2) including rage effect)
Str 12 (14), Dex 19, Con 9 (11), Int 2, Wis 13, Cha 11

[Smileybastard]

Byron

With the great bird distracting the wolf, Byron attempts to roll away from the beast and stand out of the range of it's snapping teeth.

Acrobatics if it will help [roll0]

[Cyclopean]

The wolf snaps at Grobec as the bird attempts to savage him with his beak. While the creature is distracted, Byron manages to crawl away and rise to his feet.


Flyby attack doesn't automatically bypass AoOs. I did an acrobatics roll for Grobec, but he didn't make it.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

I believe Byron can crawl 5 feet as a move action, and even if his acrobatics roll wouldn't apply in this situation to allow him to avoid the AoO, the wolf already used his up to attack Grobec.


The wolves move forward, striking at the same targets as before.



Attack on Rosora: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Trip: [roll4]

Attack on Byron: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Trip: [roll7]

Attack on Damal: [roll8]
Damage: [roll9]
Trip: [roll10]

Attack on Amos: [roll11]
Damage: [roll12]
Trip: [roll13]

The party is up.


Amos cringes as his foe wounds his thigh, but he manages not to lose his footing.

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan takes a step back, extracts a steel bullet from her pouch, places it in her sling, and lets fly. Meanwhile, the big bird makes a second pass at the same target, coming back from behind the wolf.

Veyraan
5-ft step back
Attack with sling [roll0] (including -4 for firing in melee) damage [roll1]

Grobec
Flyby Attack, bite [roll2] damage [roll3]

Veyraan
HP 10
AC 18 (+1 armor, +2 Dex, +4 dodge), CMD 15
Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +6
Sling: +3 (1d4)
Str 7, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 13, Wis 17, Cha 10

Grobec
HP 11 (13 with rage effect)
AC 18 (+5 natural, +4 Dex, -1 rage effect), CMD 14
Fort +2 (+3 with rage), Ref +3, Will +1 (+2 with rage)
Bite: +3 (1d6+2), 2x Talon +3 (1d4+2) including rage effect)
Str 12 (14), Dex 19, Con 9 (11), Int 2, Wis 13, Cha 11

[Othniel]

Amos

The Skald continues his war-chant, and the wound left by the wolf's bite heals through the power of his words. Brandishing his greataxe, he swings for the wolf that bit him, hoping to cleave its head from its neck (and win him a new winter fur in the process).


Raging Song Rounds Used: 1/5
Skald's Vigor heals 1 point of damage, so he is back to full health (11+1 temporary hit point from Raging Song con bonus).
Attack against wolf: [roll0]
Damage (If I'm reading the rules right, I get to actually add 1.5x my str bonus to damage when wielding my weapon two-handed, and since raging song gives me +2 to strength, I have a total of + 6 to damage). [roll1]

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron rises and attacks the beast with his longsword in two hands. "What are wolves doing in town and why are they attacking us?"

Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]

[Geckus]

Having regained his feet, Damal growls back at the wolf as it lunges for him yet again, managing to keep his distance from the animal's teeth this time. He spares a glance at the great raptor that had joined the battle, but seeing that it was attacking a wolf saves his worry and questions about it for later.

"Was wondering the same thing Byron."

Carefully judging the timing of the wolf's next attack, he swings his axe in a downward stroke intended to separate it's head from the rest of it's body.

Move action - study target; Standard action to attack.

Attack [roll0]
Damange [roll1]

[Cyclopean]

Both Damal and Grobec land solid blows. The creatures whine pitifully from their wounds, but make no move to flee.

[Comissar]

Rosora sidesteps the wolf snapping at her. Using this chance to get some distance again, she backs away again. Changing the grip on her knife, she throws it at the beast with a quick flick of the wrist.

As she does so, she shouts out "Shall we maybe talk about that after we're safe?"

5 ft. step back, throwing a dagger at the wolf. Rosora's ranged bonus is way better than her melee, after all :smalltongue: The bonus from inspired rage is included for the damage roll.

To Hit - [roll0]
Crit. Confirm (If Appropriate) - [roll1]

Damage - [roll2]
Crit. Bonus Damage (If Appropriate) - [roll3]

[Cyclopean]

Rosora's target manages to dodge the flying dagger. The wolf growls at her and advances. Damal's dancing partner circles around, trying to get behind him.



Same story as before. Veyraan and Grobec have managed to stay out of melee range so far. Next turn, Damal may find himself flanked.

Attack on Rosora: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Trip: [roll2]

Attack on Byron: [roll3]
Damage: [roll4]
Trip: [roll5]

Attack on Damal: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]
Trip: [roll8]

Attack on Amos: [roll11]
Damage: [roll9]
Trip: [roll10]

The party is up.

[Cyclopean]

The dice roller apparently hates Byron. Rolling to confirm the crit and for damage, and also to fix the attack roll on Amos.

Crit: [roll0]
Crit damage: [roll1]

Attack: [roll2]


Byron once again takes a hit and comes crashing down.

[Othniel]

Amos

War-chant still raging, Amos swings again at the wolf.


Raging Song Rounds Used: 2/5
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Geckus]

Damal can't help but laugh at Rosora's indignant shout; yapping during a fight was a time honored tradition. Still, might be best to focus on the task at hand.

Noting that the nearest wolves were looking to circle him, Damal mutters, "Oh no ya don't beastie", and levels another chop at the wounded beast, hoping to take it down quickly so he could focus on just the one. If the blow fails to connect or drop his target, Damal tries to maneuver to avoid the flank if possible, putting his back to either another person or a wall.


Standard action to attack, Move action to either 5' shift or adjust position using Acrobatics to avoid AoO if needed [roll0]

Attack [roll1]
Damage [roll2] -forgot the additional +1 from studied target last time

[Gwynfrid]

Veyraan moves back yet again, ignoring her friends' banter as she focuses on timing her strike after Grobec's swoop. Both the bird and the girl concentrate their attacks on the wolf that seems the most dangerous - the one on top of the unfortunate Byron.


Oops, I wanted to use that post as a baseline for the new one and I edited it by mistake. Here's trying to repair the damage (hand copy of the original post):

Veyraan
5-ft step back
Veyraan
5-ft step back
Attack with sling 1d20-1=4 (including -4 for firing in melee) damage 1d4=1

Grobec
Flyby Attack, bite 1d20+3=13 damage 1d6+2=7

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron tired of falling swings at the wolf.

Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]

[Cyclopean]

Byron's axe strikes true. Its recipient howls and falls over.

[Comissar]

Rosora ducks backwards again, cursing to herself as the wolf dodges her first knife. Drawing out another, she gets ready to dodge the inevitable rush forward.

Just 5 ft. stepping back and drawing another dagger. Again, sorry for the slow response.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

After killing the wolf, Byron gets to his feet.

[Cyclopean]

What wolves still stand go for the nearest targets available.



Attack on Byron: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Trip: [roll2]

Attack on Damal: [roll3]
Damage: [roll4]
Trip: [roll5]

Attack on Amos: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]
Trip: [roll8]



None of them so much as draw blood.

[Othniel]

Amos

His frustration mounting, Amos maintains his chant and swings again at the wolf nearest him.

Raging Song Rounds Used: 3/5
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Edit: 3 rounds uses; not 2...and ouch. Nat one on the attack. :smallsigh:

[Gwynfrid]

This time, Grobec and Veyraan focus their attack on Amos' opponent.


Veyraan
Attack with sling [roll0] (including -4 for firing in melee) damage [roll1]

Grobec
Flyby Attack, bite [roll2] damage [roll3]
Acrobatics, if necessary: [roll4]

Veyraan
HP 10
AC 18 (+1 armor, +2 Dex, +4 dodge), CMD 15
Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +6
Sling: +3 (1d4)
Str 7, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 13, Wis 17, Cha 10

Grobec
HP 11 (13 with rage effect)
AC 18 (+5 natural, +4 Dex, -1 rage effect), CMD 14
Fort +2 (+3 with rage), Ref +3, Will +1 (+2 with rage)
Bite: +3 (1d6+2), 2x Talon +3 (1d4+2) including rage effect)
Str 12 (14), Dex 19, Con 9 (11), Int 2, Wis 13, Cha 11

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron evades the new wolfs attack and swings his longsword in to hands at it.

Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]

[Cyclopean]

Veyraan manages to land a hit, and Byron succeeds in dropping his foe.

[Geckus]

Huh, that Byron is pretty damned good with his blade.

With the wolves starting to fall, Damal presses the attack against the beast in front of him.


Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]

[Cyclopean]

Damal is able to finish off the wolf that had circled around to the back of the group.

One wolf remains. Rosora could use her move action to get into a flanking position with Amos without provoking an AoO.

[Comissar]

Rosora ducks away from an attack that never comes. The wolf that had been fighting her apparently decides that she isn't worth the effort. She hesitates, looking around to get an idea of how everyone else was faring. Just one left.

Knife in hand, she rushes to help Amos with his opponent.

Charging/Moving to fight the wolf Amos is fighting. If Rosora can't charge, it's -2 to the attack roll. She'll be moving to where she can flank for the extra +2 to hit, along with the sneak damage.

To hit - [roll0]

Damage - [roll1]

Sneak Attack Damage - [roll2]


Crit. Confirm (if needed) - [roll3]

Crit. Damage (if needed) - [roll4]

[Cyclopean]

The last wolf hurls itself at Amos.



Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Trip: [roll2]

The party is up.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron charges the last wolf.

Charge attack -2 AC so now 14
Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]

[Othniel]

Amos


Amos follows close behind.

=Raging Song Rounds Used: 4/5
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Gwynfrid]

Everyone gangs up on the last wolf, including another swoop by Grobec and a sling shot from Veyraan.

Veyraan
Attack with sling [roll0] (including -4 for firing in melee) damage [roll1]

Grobec
Flyby Attack, bite [roll2] damage [roll3]
Acrobatics, if necessary: [roll4]

[Geckus]

Seeing the rest of the group mob the last wolf standing, Damal steps back and casts his gaze to the area around them. Wolves attacking groups of men was rare, but not unheard of - wolves attacking groups of men in the middle of a walled town was more than a little suspicious.

Check the tracks later to see where they came from; for now, they may have a handler about to measure their success.

Perception [roll0]

[Cyclopean]

Amos misses again, but Byron and Grobec prove more than adequate to extinguish the last threat. Damal initially sees no one who might have been handling the crazed animals. Though the noise from Clamor drowned out most of the sound of combat, a few moments later curious townsfolk emerge from their houses to investigate, although none dare approach too close.

[Othniel]

Amos

The Skald winds down his chant and stands leaning on his axe, an embarrassed expression upon his face. "Not a single blow landed!" he complains. "I must be rusty."

Raging Song ended.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron puts his hand on Amos's shoulder. "Don't worry my friend, battle is like that."

[Comissar]

Rosora takes a couple of steps back away from the wolf as it collapses. Though she was unharmed, the simple fact that there had been a fight at all still unnerves her. "Who would do this..?"

The sound of the growing crowd catches her attention, a grimace flickering over her face at the thought of needing to explain all of this.

[Smileybastard]

Byron

Byron looks at Rosora. "Who? How do you know it is a who?"

[Gwynfrid]

As soon as the fight is over, the huge, cagey bird flies away and out of sight, with Veyraan making a discreet, but hearfelt sign of thanks in its direction.

The young girl looks around, not really understanding the enormity of what just happened. Nothing like this has ever occured in Trunau in her lifetime. "Wolves attacking in the street? Who let them in?"

[Geckus]

"The ladies have the right of it Byron; first thing I looked for once things were in hand. No sign of any watchers though...at least none that weren't in their houses when all this started."

Wiping his axe blade on the pelt of one of the fallen wolves, Damal looks at the ground in the direction the wolves first appeared from.

"Might be able to back track them, but I'd need to be quick before the traces get ruined."