Adventures in Vaal-Paradis IC

[Wiz0rd]

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/f0/7e/13/f07e138f41286778e3de10c2f25853dd.jpg

With a sound of shattering glass, an unexpected intensely brilliant light assails the new adventuring groups' eyes where they stand.

"Now-now, hold still, this will only take a moment." a nearby male, elderly voice huffed. Again, the shattering of glass and blinding light. "Gah! One of you had your-" the small voice was interrupted by another.

"It is a momentous day!" the voice was loud, authoritative and that of a woman, "It is to be forever marked on our calendars. Today will be known as Heroes' Day! As you well know, today is not a day for work or austerity. Today, we rejoice!" the mayor declared.

With a rub over sore eyes, a brilliant white fades a clear vision of the scene. The 'heroes' are standing all together, a rag-tag band displayed in front of the fortified wall of New Haven, their home they have come to know and love, perhaps, over the past few years. Though some of the merry band have traveled to New Haven in the past, or they have lived here their whole lives, each know and recognize the small fortified town very well, and truth be told, there is not much exploring to do. Everything looked as it has, and how it should, besides the new presence of decoration in the form of bunting and cloth covered tables. Though the gathered townsfolk are silent, a small musical band rests nearby. The valley is blessed by clear skies, a small gathering of whispy clouds and a cooling, refreshing breeze.

"Today, is a celebration to recognize some of the most talented, unique and interesting amongst our peoples." Zara New-Havian stands upon a small plinth and performs a sweeping gesture towards the caravan, "These citizens of New Haven ascend from being mere townsfolk, and embrace a new adventuring life. May the gods smile upon your fortunes, and may you return to New Haven with vast wealth, riches and fame. Walk with our good name and good banners, and return mighty heroes with deeds, tales and renown. You will be the envy of us all. Go and make your mark upon the world. You have all out-grown us."

"A round of applause for these brave, crazy sods!" the local tavern-keeper, Johnathan Coolwaters, yells. Within a moment the townsfolk and the adventurers acquaintances and friends erupt into a loud cheer, only echoed by the sheer cliffs of the immediate geography. The applaud fades. A robed figure walks forward, the adventurers recognize as the towns' cleric, Yesa Goodfaith.

"Our ancestors came to this place by a warm heart and the desire to improve the world. The map, the item, the ideal, this is sacred to our people and our heritage. They were struck down as innocent explorers, burnt and punished by this cruel world and we remember them."
The cleric approaches the group and reveals a highly intricate, very detailed artistic map of obvious lavishness and value. The perfectly folded ornate map was decorated with baroque, inked lines and decoration.
In the next moment, the map seemingly catches alight and begins to burn and disintegrate without movement from the priest, or the use of the flint and tinder. The breeze catching the parchment embers and tracing them across the party in a smokeless manner.
"Just as they found their own place in the world, so will you. Go with their blessing, and ours, intrepid adventurers. May you walk with positive energy, stare evil and wrongness in the eye, and hold goodness in your hearts."

With that, the robed human male steps back towards the massed townsfolk and the earlier, blinding elderly gentleman rushes forward.
"See! See! It's done! This one is for you. This one is for us! You will be pinned to our community board. You'll see!" and hastily thrusts a blackened piece of parchment towards you all.
A burned black-and-white portrait of the group, standing at the ready before the grand gate. A still-image, a moment captured forever.

"And with that, I commence your day of revelry! Let us show our heroes one final day of our hospitality before they begin their journey. Begin I say you!"

A cacophony of music, cheering, and various visual celebrations are released at all at once as each of the tables are filled with full tankards, delicious stews and various toys and games. Within moments the town truly begins an hasty, excited towns fete not normally seen apart from once a year. The townsfolk's attention has shifted from your well-meaning send-off to that of more base pleasures. The more influential members of the ceremony team seem to either withdraw from their station or to go and join the others. Those of you attached to the locality could be forgiven for feeling a pang of regret to this homely, quaint scene.

Looking between yourselves, you each share a glimpse different expression or look. Some may look concerned, others may look angry, others grinning with hope and impatience, but one thing is absolutely certain: today, tomorrow and forever-more will not be like yesterday.

Edit:

OOC Thread, for rules, clarification, sheets and backstory
Pathfinder System Reference Document (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?505577-OOC-Wiz0rd-and-friends-play-PbP)

[Petulantcobra]

"In the name of Gozreh, that's bright!" Izan the tall, lithe, silver skinned man muttered under his breath in his native tongue. Dressed his light leather armor worn under a traveling cloak (an outfit designed more for freedom of movement than protective properties) which constantly billows as though there was more of a breeze. With bow in hand and pack with a rolled up hammock dangling from his back Izan is excited and ready to get this show on the road.

It has been some years since Izan rid himself of the cursed coin which brought him so much misfortune. The negative memories have turned into curiosity of what other artifacts might be out there waiting for him to find.

[silly-string]

A Tiefling, red-ish skin, horns and all, and wrapped in intricately embroidered shawls and skirts, a few dull patches of stout leather poking through the colourful fabrics chuckled at the tall silver man's grumbling and strolled forwards to talk with the human holding out the picture. Soon they were embroiled in a discussion, punctuated by a flash and wosh every now and then, the parted ways with a brief hand-shake and she started back towards the rest of the party.

"Well then, who and what do we have here?" she asked addressing the silvery man. one of her hands rested on her hip above a polished horn capped with finely wrought silver caps and a pipe at the narrow end, the other hand rested on an elegantly carved and gilded piece of wood poking out of a pouch at her hip.

[Cranelotus]

"My eyes, my eyes! Confounded...parlour tricks...Clamour...darkness..." Astrid recoiled at the blinding lights and tugged her hood over her eyes, but it was caught on her horns and could not reach. She began to claw at her own eyes with her ratted white hair and then finally she used her sleeve, which was made of a soothing blue-black linen. She did not like the crowd staring at her, partially because she knew that she always appeared to be a wreck, but she succumbed to being herself after realizing she was there anyway. After all, her bag was covered in dirt - she had dragged it there rather than wore it. Ill-prepared for today, her robe was incredibly crumpled and still slightly damp from coming out of the wash. If Astrid was an ornate vase, she would be a shattered one held together with tape and frog spit.

Astrid muttered incantations under her breath, hexes and slumbers and dancing lights and the like, without any real intent to cast them. She looked over the other people in the group. She didn't really recognize any of them, as the faces of people she didn't see very often blurred with the faces of other people she didn't see very often. Originally she didn't really like talking to Izan (it was nothing personal) and as she avoided people-contact until when it was necessary, but in this instance she found him to be the only one she was really familiar with, a friend by proxy.
"Izan! Why do we have to take part in this ridiculous human spectacle?! Don't answer this, I know, I know the answer."

However despite everything that pointed otherwise, she quite fancied the idea of being an adventurer. Astrid was intelligent and she full well knew it, and although she didn't really like people, she had thoughts that she really needed to articulate. This left her in an awkward situation where she really didn't want to deal with people, but also wanted to let her thoughts be known. If only she could just walk away and leave a book in place titled "ASTRID: A MEMOIR OF", she thought to herself. Realizing that these people were to be her companions sooner or later, she deduced that she may as well talk now and let her position be known. She squinted though the cracks in her barely-open eyes and Bomi Sure-grip caught her eye.
"That child has a beard..." she said, furrowing her brow. "And I'm afraid if it's you, this tiefling, of all people, and bearded child, I've been lumped in with the misfits...I need a drink..."

[Wiz0rd]

Bomi's arms were crossed tightly, face taught with a particular brand of simmering Dwarven grimace. It was then the blinding flash came.
"Ach, me eyes man. Ye could warn a dwarf bef'er y' do that. Bastard." The dwarf wiped the dazzle and the water from his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

Those who sent their glance and gaze towards Bomi were subject to seeing a typical specimen of the Dwarven race. While certainly not small in size or build, Bomi was considerably shorter than of his companions, being at-least a foot or greater closer to the earth. While not rippling with absurd and showy muscle, Bomi maintained a hardy physique built from years of hard-labour and heavy work. His shoulders are considerably broad and rounded, his neck thick. His face was weathered, aged and dark in complexion for his age due to this industry and employment. He was not an ugly man, but not handsome, and rarely smiled. His chin, jaws and cheek wore a scruffy, thick black beard that was maintained shoddily and trimmed relatively short and shagged.

Bomi was equipped with the modified equipment of his old craft: his trusty work-apron now reinforced with chain and scales from the smithy. He donned a yellowing hard-hat helmet that he wore for destruction jobs, doing very little to cool him or his sweating brow, but granting another layer of protection to his already thick skull. The majority of this equipment lay behind him in his, now also re-purposed, cart: various tools now banded and riveted for combat use, a filled-looking, thick and old musty-smelling leather pack, and a small handful of furiously clucking caged chickens.


Glancing towards the others he sized up the rest of the group both inspecting themselves and each other, he wondered what choices he had made in his life to come to such a situation. He was about to mention something-or-other to the fancy tiefling flamework maker and the foreign speaking silvery lad when something caught his ear from beside him:


""That child has a beard..." she said, furrowing her brow. "And I'm afraid if it's you, this tiefling of all people, and bearded child, I've been lumped in with the misfits... I need a drink..."


Bomi hacks, and spits a large glob onto the ground next to the local infamous Tiefling witch, Astrid "By Moradin's hammer; bearded child?! I bloody well built yer bloody hoos'!" Bomi, rather than feeling angry or impetuous, merely put his palm to his face with a gentle thud. "Aye. Aye. I think aye'll be joinin' y' on this one. 'One for the road' they say eh?"

"Yew lot. Threw yer stuff in me cart. Ain't goin' no-where, and their ain't no point burdenin' yerself with et noaw." He lowers his voice and puts up a hand to cover it from the direction of the townsfolk. "An I dun't knew about yew, but if yous got anythin' you want to wrap up before we go, now's bein' tha time t' do it. Ih don't wanna' say ne-longer than I haf' to.
I'm goin' to grab me pint, then I'm goin' t' grab some supplies. Come with me if ut pleases y'."
He looks at you each for a moment, anticipating a response.

[benjaminrussell]

Krizira found it a little uncomfortable to have so many people watching her at once, but she reminded herself that they were all friends, family, or at the least acquaintances. No-one here was a bandit looking to attack the caravan, or a target, so it didn't matter that she was very visible. In fact they were expecting her to be there, so it would be weird if she was hidden. She shot a small smile at her adopted father when he caught her eye, and his answering grin served to dispel any lingering nerves, especially when he lifted up Emily, the baker's little girl, and set her on his shoulders so she could see what was going on.

She was dressed ready to set out on the adventure, wearing her leather armour under her trademark hooded coat - the dark grey one that she'd originally bought in a town she'd long forgotten the name of, and had spent many hours since while travelling adding intricate embroidery to. It was black thread on dark grey material so the decoration wasn't obvious from far away, but that suited her perfectly, despite how many times Trianna the tailor had tried to convince her to add gold to the design to complement her brown skin. She couldn't well sneak up on someone if she sparkled as she moved. Her long black hair was tucked behind her pointed ears and braided, and she had a rucksack slung over her shoulders with her crossbow securely attached to it.

Then it was time for the announcement. Krizira fought not to blink as the group had their image captured, but once it was over she blinked rapidly several times to try and get the glare out of her eyes. Of course it didn't work though, so she was left with twin spots of light distorting her vision. She stood quietly as the various people spoke, eyeing her fellow adventurers out of the corner of her eye. She knew most of them to some extent, either from having had dealings with them in the past or just from seeing them around town, but she was curious to know more about them all. It would certainly be different to travelling with the caravan.

"I need to say goodbye to my family, but knowing Uncle Tomas they're probably congregating near the tavern, so I'll join you," She told Bomi, rolling her eyes when she mentioned her adopted uncle. She carefully removed her rucksack and set it in Bomi's cart, making sure her crossbow didn't get caught on anything in the process. Normally she wouldn't leave her things unattended like that, but everyone in the town was trustworthy enough not to touch the packs of the adventuring party.
"Thanks."

[folkiefaerie]

(So, I will draw a picture of Higvi soon, but she is a very frail-looking young woman with deathly white skin, grey hair and yellow eyes.)

Higvi stood with her hands laced in front of her, smiling at the dispersing crowd. Her pack was resting against her feet, the gleaming steel shield propped artfully in front of its torn front pocket. She had held her morningstar for the first part of the ceremony, but after her arm went dead she had pretended to need to lace her boot and left the weapon in the sand. Now she wished she hadn't been so weak. They were all looking at her. Mr Horfax from the granary was looking at her, and her old boss, Miss Dreethian-Lock from the Post Office, and the balding drunkard who called her 'that whooping bitch'. All looking at her with, she thought, what must be admiration. This was it. She was an adventurer. An explorer. If she did this job right, who knew? She might even become an actual, proper, real-life emissary.

She tried to will the inch-high platform of air beneath her feet higher as she pushed herself up onto tiptoes, her back straightened and her chest puffed out. She hoped that her blue robe would flash the crowd with impressive peacock-sheen it had given her in the mirror at Borlot's Bargains. Truthfully though, the fabric was heavy and scratchy and her stained cotton smock was growing wet with nervous sweat.

Reaching back with shaking hands, she tightened the thick braid of her neatly-plaited grey hair and turned towards the rest of her caravan. She sighed. The rest of the caravan didn't look nervous at all. In fact, most of them didn't even look like adventurers. For one thing Serianna was there. It was rumoured she did strange experiments, and the deliveries Higvi had made to her hut in the crafter's corner didn't do anything to help concerns. Then Bomi Jr, who was pleasant enough but had a thick Dwarven accent. It took Higvi a few moments to decipher what he was trying to say and it got even worse after a few drinks. She often found herself making excuses to him during daylight hours. Apparently they had good conversations behind the taverns at nightfall. Not that she could remember them.

There were a few others. An acrobat she had seen around, but never really spoken to. The witch, Astrid, who had ordered packages before but preferred her items to be left on the doorstep. Not a great conversationalist. There was Krizira, of course, and a paladin who looked strong enough to take a few hits. She smirked. It would be beneficial to get into his good books.

Taking a breath, she bent down and gathered up her belongings. Metal clanged as she grabbed the shield. Higvi blushed. A screaming mouth had appeared below her fist, bent into the polished metal. It's lips were lined with age and it had long, razor-sharp fangs. She turned the shield towards her, trying to hide the mouth from the crowd. No one seemed to have noticed. She snatched up the morningstar. With a clunk its head bent into itself and the handle groaned as it twisted like caramel. She winced, glancing at her future companions. No odd looks. They were all just talking amongst themselves.

They were forgetting about her.

Higvi gulped. She had to make an impression, fast. She strode over to them, making a beeline for Bromi. At least they had spoken properly before. Maybe he could introduce her to the acrobat.

She plastered a well-practiced smile across her face. "Bromi!" she said, sheathing her mace and stretching out a wide and welcoming arm. "My friend, how are you?"

[silly-string]

"Just remmber Astrid, you and I aren't that far removed from those humans, there's no need for such scorn of their customs." Serianna shouted at the other tiefling woman as she complained. her face twisted into as much of a frown as her curled horns would allow.


"Yew lot. Threw yer stuff in me cart. Ain't goin' no-where, and their ain't no point burdenin' yerself with et noaw."

Bomi's shout about the cart drew Serianna's attention away from the small crowd of her new companions. with a sigh she strode over to a small barrel and thick leather roll, hefting the barrel under her arm and cradling the roll in her other arm. With a quick glance down at the backpack that still sprawled on the floor she carefully tucked her things in a corner of the cart, she returned to her pack and scooped it up before stashing it with the rest of her gear, carefully arranging it to cover as much of the barrel as possible.


She plastered a well-practiced smile across her face. "Bromi!" she said, sheathing her mace and stretching out a wide and welcoming arm. "My friend, how are you?"

when Higvi called out to bomi Serianna jumped and half pulled the ebony and gold stick out of its pouch, a long steel tube ran down the spine and a complicated mechanism near her hand twitched as her finger pressed on the trigger. "By the Dragons' fangs woman! Please don't sneak up on me like that!" The startled look on her face quickly faded and she carefully slid Hadir Altanin back into its pouch.

[Wiz0rd]

Edit:
General Town Knowledge
Each of your characters would be aware of the structures and services within the town, but possibly not the exact names and races of who works and runs them, background depending. The valley fortified town is small, and has a modest populace: a mixed bunch of races but mostly ones that are either considered typical for the area and the material plane, and ones that are half-human in some way or other. A rough estimate into the population of the town would sit around 200-300 people.
Within the town you'd find:
- A general smithy
- A timber and woodworking shop
- A stone-masons
- A tinkerer's junkyard
- A textiles and weaver's hut
- The Cafeteria
- The "Journey's End" Tavern
- A modest school and nursery
- The general trader and merchant
- A small market area
- A doctor's hut and infirmary
- A very modest library and alchemy lab
- A small multi-faith chapel and shrine area
- Your character's old home / resting spot / workplace
- The water-well
- The raised farms, cliff farms, the green-fingers potter's hut and the mushroom and fungal farms within the cliffs themselves.
- The mayor's house
- The gate, and the gate-guard
- The militia's training yard
- The general residential area
- AND the stables.


---

Just as Izan looked deep in thought, thinking about the cursed coin that seemed to plague his fortunes in the past and what other curious treasures there were still to discover: a small child, not quite entirely human in biology, approaches the slim acrobat, emerging from the direction of the general revelry. He is plainly dressed in comfortable, loose fitting brown cottons, his facial features slender, elongated and pointed.
"'scuze me sir, are you Izan? Izan the acrobat-man?" he says in a quiet, polite, slightly intimated, youthful way.

---

Serianna's brief embroiling discussion with the elderly tinkerer went something along the lines of this:
"Why yes, the blinding light is absolutely necessary for the capture process. No, I haven't tried to weaponize it yet. Each image is quite an expensive procedure you see! Yes, yes, good luck to you inventor commrade, I look forward to hearing news about your discoveries on the winds!", and in a poor abyssal tongue adds, "Thank you." as he wanders off back towards the small tinkerer's yards.

---

Krizira, during the whole ceremony (except for the moments you were incidentally blinded), your family and their warm, tearful gazes were focused upon you. Their faces did not betray their emotions, though difficult to see through the crowd, they wore warm smiles. After the celebrations were declared to begin, your Uncle and Emily performed a large wave through the crowd and pointed towards the nearby local Tavern - "The Journey's End", and bounced merrily in that direction.
The Journey's End is a small, ramshackle shed of a tavern but filled with quaint charm and a long history. Apart from the heavy wooden hinged shutters it used very occasionally during times of siege or bad weather, it was an open-plan affair, it's only walls and boundary to entry was through decorative draping cloths only adding to it's already warm atmosphere.
Your pack, next to Bomi's and now Serianna's equipment, looks considerably neat, organised and secure in comparison to Bomi's packing attempt.

---

Nodding Bomi stepped forward, breaking rank and file to both regard the rest of the group more fully and begin progress towards his next target: a tall frosty one, and not of the ice-elemental variety.
"Aye, c'mon lass, day-light's wastin'. Sayin' a few last words to yer family sounds like a bonnie idea." with a momentary lapse, Bomi's expression changes and he pauses "I'll be needin' to make a quick stop at the chapel... for m' father." He continued walking back towards New Haven proper and away from the tall, looming gate behind. "Come, Kree-anna, is ut'? Les' walk n' talk aye?"


"She plastered a well-practiced smile across her face. "Bromi!" she said, sheathing her mace and stretching out a wide and welcoming arm. "My friend, how are you?!"

Embracing the out-stretched arm and places it around his shoulder, he reaches up and mirrors the hearty half-embrace and just as he opens his mouth to speak-

Serianna jumped and half pulled the ebony and gold stick out of its pouch, a long steel tube ran down the spine and a complicated mechanism near her hand twitched as her finger pressed on the trigger.
With a glance, Bomi's eyes widen, expression becoming serious as a surge of adrenaline and percieved imminent danger makes time almost feel as if it were to slow.

With an uncharacteristic, unexpected speed, Bomi performs the famous low and quick dwarven charge towards the draped Tiefling flamework maker, holding out his outstretched arm, firmly blocking the arm from making any more progress to pointing the fire-stick in any meaningful direction.

"Bloody hellfire woman, what in cryin' blazes are y' tryin' to do!? When, in gods nam', did ye think that were ever gonna' be a grand idea?!" Bomi's face reddens as he shouts loudly, irritated at the whole spectacle. Hand, arm, and threat remaining where it is, he calms and says in an icy coolness: "Look, I'm haffin' enough time keepin' it all together too, but this luttle trip, doesn't need sum' paranoid flamework loony gettin' trigger happy 'cause the wind turns, or I'll finish this myself. We understandin' uch other?" His firey gaze meeting and locking with Seri--somethin's.

"Sorry Higvi, I'll be with y' in a minut'."

[folkiefaerie]

Edit:

"Bloody hellfire woman, what in cryin' blazes are y' tryin' to do!? When, in gods nam', did ye think that were ever gonna' be a grand idea?!" Bomi's face reddens as he shouts loudly, irritated at the whole spectacle. Hand, arm, and threat remaining where it is, he calms and says in an icy coolness: "Look, I'm haffin' enough time keepin' it all together too, but this luttle trip, doesn't need sum' paranoid flamework loony gettin' trigger happy 'cause the wind turns, or I'll finish this myself. We understandin' uch other?" His firey gaze meeting and locking with Seri--somethin's.

"Sorry Higvi, I'll be with y' in a minut'."

Higvi lays a hand on Bromi's arm and smiles. "It's okay. She's right, I do have a terrible habit of sneaking up on people. Remember when you were at the bar in the Journey's End, and I tapped you on the shoulder and you chucked your beer all over the barman?" She laughs. "You were cleaning the smell out of your clothes for days!" She keeps laughing, glancing up at Bromi every couple of seconds, hoping that his frown will break into a laugh at any second and that all would be forgiven and forgotten...

(Diplomacy check/ 22)

[benjaminrussell]

Krizira watched quietly as Higvi made Serianna jump, and as Serianna in turn shocked Bomi by drawing her weapon. She was ready to act if needed, but was sure that after everyone's initial shock that there wouldn't be a problem. All the townsfolk knew there was nothing to fear in New Haven.
"Serianna may be quick to draw, but she's also got quick enough reflexes not to accidentally shoot someone," She reassured Bomi, before shooting a small smile at Serianna.


Edit:
"Aye, c'mon lass, day-light's wastin'. Sayin' a few last words to yer family sounds like a bonnie idea." with a momentary lapse, Bomi's expression changes and he pauses "I'll be needin' to make a quick stop at the chapel... for m' father." He continued walking back towards New Haven proper and away from the tall, looming gate behind. "Come, Kree-anna, is ut'? Les' walk n' talk aye?"

Krizira filed away the scrap of information about Bomi's father, but didn't say anything about it other than nodding her assent. It didn't seem like he wanted to discuss it, and she was only too happy to oblige. Dead parents weren't exactly the sort of topic to talk about during a celebration.
"Krizira," She corrected, "Krizira Sharma."

[Petulantcobra]

"Well then, who and what do we have here?" " she asked addressing the silvery man.

Izan turns to Serianna, "That must have been brighter than I thought it was. Surely one such as yourself knows a fellow with outsider blood when you see one. I am-" Izan is cut off by a child tugging at his cloak

"'scuze me sir, are you Izan? Izan the acrobat-man?"

"My name is indeed Izan and I have been known to perform feats of acrobatics on occasion" He said looking half at the Tiefling with a strange device on her hip and half at the child. "What can I do for you today? I regret I do not have much time though, I must give that short man my things" (gesture at Bomi) "and then I must be making final preparations to adventure."

[silly-string]

"That must have been brighter than I thought it was. Surely one such as yourself knows a fellow with outsider blood when you see one. I am-" Izan is cut off by a child tugging at his cloak

"I'm aware..." Serianna starts, but rolls her eyes and wanders off as Izan turns his attention to the child.


"Krizira," She corrected, "Krizira Sharma."

Serianna laid a hand over the half-elf's shoulder and smiled gratefully and apologetically "I think he's talking to me child, and it's seri-anna, like serenity." she turns to look even more apologetically at Bomi. "I apologise, however I'd rather not be snuck up on by anyone, I'll apologise to Higvi. And in my defence, there was no match in the serpentine, so it wouldn't have gone off anyway." she reaches down to the large end of the powder horn on her hip and unscrews part of it, pulling out a length of rope with a smouldering end and showing it to the dwarf and anyone that cares to see it.

[Wiz0rd]

The small elf-like child, upon hearing the shouting laments of the nearby dwarf voice, takes a reactionary step to the side, looks but does not turn their head and subtly, instinctively reduces their size and stance.
In the next moment, the child shuffles through the folds of their modest, billowy clothing, and produces a small cloth-covered item and holds it out, both hands out as if presenting a gift. It is small and rectangular, and decorated with a single, frayed, tied reddish ribbon.
"Won't be long, sir. A gift from Mr. Brightshield sir, from the merchants. He told me to tell something about special deals for today..." and with that their focus changes, looking as if their mind were scrambling for the correct words.

---

Success!


"It's okay. She's right, I do have a terrible habit of sneaking up on people. Remember when you were at the bar in the Journey's End, and I tapped you on the shoulder and you chucked your beer all over the barman?"

"Serianna may be quick to draw, but she's also got quick enough reflexes not to accidentally shoot someone."

"... In my defense, there was no match in the serpentine, so it wouldn't have gone off anyway."

Looking between each of the speakers and Higvi's gentle gesture, Bomi's expression and skin visibly cools, his arm lowers. He keenly watches Serianna perform a demonstration and explanation of her invention to him and the group. He watches intently and listens without speaking for a moment. It seems to capture the Dwarven spirit of craftsmanship and industry.

"Ach, aye. Blast. I'm sorry lass, I 'ad no idea. Ain't never come across one o' those fancy boom-sticks before. Jus' don't point it at me o' us folk, aye? 'thing makes me nervous." he shrugs, "And ah ment t' threw m' pint that time, Higvi! 'e were sayin' m' latest build were 'un-inspired n' shoddy' - AN 'E WERE ONLY HAF RIOGT.", turning to Higvi he lets off a signature hearty guffaw.

" 'Kreezeera Shaarmaa', ey? I think I've seen yew around before. Aye, walk n' talk lads n' lasses, walk n' talk." the situation apparently satisfactory for the dwarf and the group, he returned to plodding towards the town's fete.

"Yew all gots things t' be gettin' up tew? Maight be quicker to split up now. Meet back 'ere in say, thurty minutes o' so?"

[Petulantcobra]

In the next moment, the child shuffles through the folds of their modest, billowy clothing, and produces a small cloth-covered item and holds it out, both hands out as if presenting a gift. It is small and rectangular, and decorated with a single, frayed, tied reddish ribbon.
"Won't be long, sir. A gift from Mr. Brightshield sir, from the merchants. He told me to tell something about special deals for today..."
---

Izan reaches out and takes the package. "Thank you very much. Please extend my gratitude to the merchants as a group. I do appreciate a special deal. I will have to go see Mr Brightshield before I get moving. But first let's see what is in the box." Izan gives the box a quick inspection before opening it carefully.

[benjaminrussell]

Thankfully due to some careful words from both Higvi and Serianna, the situation didn't escalate. It wasn't something they needed to happen before they'd even left town! Krizira relaxed again and decided to make sure everyone knew each other, at least those few that she was currently talking to.
"Do you all know each other?" She asked.



" 'Kreezeera Shaarmaa', ey? I think I've seen yew around before. Aye, walk n' talk lads n' lasses, walk n' talk." the situation apparently satisfactory for the dwarf and the group, he returned to plodding towards the town's fete.

"Yew all gots things t' be gettin' up tew? Maight be quicker to split up now. Meet back 'ere in say, thurty minutes o' so?"

"You've had dealings with my dad, Tarun," Krizira replied, a little amused at Bomi's pronounciation of her name, "He's the one that will have brought you weapons that were scavenged."

At Bomi's suggestion, Krizira nodded, "That sounds sensible. We certainly don't want to leave it too long before setting off or we'll be travelling in the dark."

[Cranelotus]

With the bright spots clearing in her vision Astrid squinted at Bromi and could see him a little more clearly. She visibly recoiled like shining a torch on a cockroach when the realised the horrifying truth - he was in fact, a dwarf. Stricken with the knowledge that she committed a slightly racist faux pas, she apologised as best she could.
"Oh. So you are a dwarf. That's unfortunate." there isn't any possible way that could be misconstrued, she thought to herself. "and a thousand thank yous for allowing my humble self to put my bag in your cart." though the rucksack was not that heavy, her legs wobbled as she lifted it. She heaved it over the edge and watched it land with a pat until it rolled to a standstill.

"Frau Tiefling, please allow me to know what you would prefer to be called. I am Astrid. I would have you know that I have nothing against humans, but the spectacle is human, and the spectacle is ridiculous. I am frustrated with the situation, not frustrated with that which caused the situation."

Astrid turned her attention to the child approaching Izan. She patronisingly crouched and looked him in the face to read him. Definitely not human, at least. What else could she see?

[roll0]

Just as Izan was about to open the package, she put her hand on his shoulder. She still started at the boy, locking eyes with him. "Wait, Izan..." She said. "it is possible that as we are an adventuring party now, we may have made an enemy or two. We may have a snake amongst us. Who's to say we can trust him? Do you recognise him?" Astrid looked up to the sky. She saw the raven circling the group like some kind of ominous halo and nodded. She waved her palm around the object Izan held as she muttered some words under her breath.
"O strange forces that we do not yet understand, I pray to see a glimmer of your brand...Detect magic!" (I cast detect magic)

[folkiefaerie]

At Bomi's suggestion, Krizira nodded, "That sounds sensible. We certainly don't want to leave it too long before setting off or we'll be travelling in the dark."

Higvi smiles to herself, her eyes becoming cloudy. "That would be nice," she mutters. She shakes her head and throws her hands out as if to catch herself, blinking hard. When she looks up at Krizira, it's as if she's only just noticed she was there. "Oh, hello," she says, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "You're the scavenger's daughter, right? Krizira." She nods. "I'm Higvi. I think we've met before."

[Wiz0rd]

While handing over the small cloth-covered parcel to Izan, the small child performs an almost identical response to Astrid as they did to Bomi's fiery outburst earlier, albeit this time featuring watery, teary eyes. Astrid, getting very close to inspect the physical nature of this creature, determines that they are of a full Elven biology.

"I'm sorry! I'm only doing what I've been told! Don't cast a spell on me!" as the child wipes it's eyes and runs away.

Looking down, the parcel is wrapped in a simple hemp, sack-like cloth and as before, wrapped with a single modest ribbon. Within the cloth, is a shoddy wooden box of little value, small, thin and hastily made with a sliding top. Small enough to perhaps hold a small dagger, but it does not weigh that heavy in your hands.

With a glint in her eye, Astrid, calling to powers unknown, casts her magically-detecting gaze upon the box and studies it intently for a moment. Detecting magic in the past you can determine that there is no magic to be foun-- wait, no, there is a sliver, an extremely faint whisper of something magic within. Anyone could be forgiven for missing it, it has a tiny, minuscule aura, it is actually remarkable how close to little magic this item possesses. A curiosity, perhaps.

---


"Do you all know each other?" Krizira asked.

Briefly turning in his tracks, Bomi turns to look over his shoulder and points at the particular individuals of the small group, still standing where they were, not progressing to the town, idly chatting, and says:
Izan: "Seen, ne'er introduced."
Krizira: "You lass, met just now, knew y' father."
Astrid: "Erre'one knows Astrid. Bult her 'oose."
Serianna: "Knew of, ne'er introduced."
Higvi: "Higvi! Drunkin' buddy. We gu a luttle while back."
Athos: "Knew 'is father. Heard good things tho'."

---


"Oh. So you are a dwarf. That's unfortunate." there isn't any possible way that could be misconstrued, she thought to herself. "and a thousand thank yous for allowing my humble self to put my bag in your cart." though the rucksack was not that heavy, her legs wobbled as she lifted it. She heaved it over the edge and watched it land with a pat until it rolled to a standstill.

After very quickly sniping and talking about his relationship with the rest of the group, as he's walking away, he overhears Astrid.
" 'Thas' unfortunate' is ut?" he stops his walk towards the town, calmly walks over to Astrid and the cart. He says nothing as he very calmly, very cooly reaches over to Astrid's lightly-packed backpack, stares her in the eye with a blank expression, and contemplates very deeply about dropping the pack to the floor with an unceremonious, dusty flop...

Thinking of the moment just before with the other Tiefling flame-work maker, he changes his mind at the last moment, and instead reaches in and re-packs the bag neatly upon the cart.
"Uh. Di'nt want yer wutch stuff to rock 'bout too much..."
"Thousand thank ye's m' arse." he sighs quietly

---

As they were walking and talking, Higvi and Krizira quietly discussed the founding of a new common-ish word: "Spangladasha" which 'Bromi' very much struggled with it's pronunciation and use, but they also very briefly discussed potential destinations for when the adventuring party leaves New Haven for the first time...

[silly-string]

"Frau Tiefling, please allow me to know what you would prefer to be called. I am Astrid. I would have you know that I have nothing against humans, but the spectacle is human, and the spectacle is ridiculous. I am frustrated with the situation, not frustrated with that which caused the situation."

"I'm Serianna, the flamework maker, surely you've seen my rockets or fire-wheels? on festival days?" she replies with a slight smirk. "that spectacle is what i find most endearing about them, the awe and wonder at the rest of the world, the fact that they keep coming back for more of my work."

---


"Do you all know each other?" She asked.

"I'm afraid I keep mostly to myself, my... parentage, doesn't make me particularly popular with the rest of the town, and my profession doesn't make me many more friends. shaking her horned head she shrugged and started following the small procession towards the inn.

[Cranelotus]

"I'm Serianna, the flamework maker, surely you've seen my rockets or fire-wheels? on festival days?" she replies with a slight smirk. "that spectacle is what i find most endearing about them, the awe and wonder at the rest of the world, the fact that they keep coming back for more of my work."


"Well I've certainly heard the noise and ruckus while I try to sleep!" Astrid said to Serianna, half-jokingly. "It is good to pursue that which you are passionate about." she nodded in approval.


While handing over the small cloth-covered parcel to Izan, the small child performs an almost identical response to Astrid as they did to Bomi's fiery outburst earlier, albeit this time featuring watery, teary eyes. Astrid, getting very close to inspect the physical nature of this creature, determines that they are of a full Elven biology.

"I'm sorry! I'm only doing what I've been told! Don't cast a spell on me!" as the child wipes it's eyes and runs away.

Looking down, the parcel is wrapped in a simple hemp, sack-like cloth and as before, wrapped with a single modest ribbon. Within the cloth, is a shoddy wooden box of little value, small, thin and hastily made with a sliding top. Small enough to perhaps hold a small dagger, but it does not weigh that heavy in your hands.

With a glint in her eye, Astrid, calling to powers unknown, casts her magically-detecting gaze upon the box and studies it intently for a moment. Detecting magic in the past you can determine that there is no magic to be foun-- wait, no, there is a sliver, an extremely faint whisper of something magic within. Anyone could be forgiven for missing it, it has a tiny, minuscule aura, it is actually remarkable how close to little magic this item possesses. A curiosity, perhaps.



She watched the child run away crying, and pondered her response for a minute until he disappeared. She considered apologizing and calling him back, but then decided she'd never really given excuses for being rude before, and there was no reason to start now.
"well, that might be the second most witch-like thing I've done all day, besides being an actual witch..." she muttered. She shrugged mentally.

Astrid turned her attention to the item, and to Izan.
"It's probably not going to explode or anything, I think for the most part it is safe. However..." she leaned in and held her finger to her lips, went shhhhh and started whispering. "If you listen carefully and open your mind's eye, there is the faint wisp of something in there, like smoke after fire put out by rain...Perhaps on a quieter day you'd be able to hear it too." after a brief pause she stood up straightly and spoke at normal volume again.
"Probably nothing to worry about though. Carry on!"

Brushing her hands as if she had finished a job, Astrid nodded and walked to the inn for that mentioned drink, and stumbled through the door.
"One glass of absinthe please." she said as she walked through the door, fumbling around with her coin purse. After messing around with the kid, she looked to see if anyone else got there first.

[Wiz0rd]

The day bright and crisp, a small contingent of the adventuring party began to walk and make progress towards the "Journey's End" tavern. In an odd contrast, the journey towards the "Journey's End" is not long at all, in fact, the building is one that is remarkably close to the fortified entrance of the town, however, your progress is beset by well-wishing, reveling townsfolk, each wanting to shake the hand of the new branded heroes and to bestow grand statements of good fortune upon you. Many of these people are very distant acquaintances or strangers, and otherwise the conversation you share between them is otherwise inconsequential and potentially awkward. On occasion, small non-valuable coins are thrust with insistence that they purchase you a drink or a meal, they insist.


The adventurers may add the equivalent of a gold piece in small change to their stocks.


https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/0a/9e/e2/0a9ee2a5e42bb5f24a4d0bd8a2652767.jpg

To describe the structure as a tavern would be very generous. The building takes more of a form as a elaborate, decorated shack-styled bar. It is a lean-to with a long, shady low roof and barriers defined by pleasantly billowing dyed sheets and cloths. It's property is defined by a quaint roped fence and a metallic sign, crafted from bolted scrap metal that creaks every now and again. The drinking hole is surrounded by crafted comfortable, cushioned seating and areas designed for convenient drinking and smooth-flowing conversation, but there does not seem to be any provisions for over-night stays or the serving of food. The nearby townsfolk band can be heard as they play a homely quality folksy, bouncy tunes.


""One glass of absinthe please." Astrid said as she walked through the door, fumbling around with her coin purse. After messing around with the kid, she looked to see if anyone else got there first."

Upon crossing the threshold, Astrid indeed begins to fumble with her coin-purse, adding any donations received from the townsfolk in addition to the sum of her previous spare income. She is joined by the presence of Serianna her Tiefling commrade, Bomi now visibly relieved to be in the bar, and Krizira whom is on a personal quest to spend a few moments with her family before finally embarking on her quest proper. The others are likely nearby, either still with the cart and packs and chatting or eager to leave, or otherwise running other errands in the town: it is unlikely there will be much commotion in either case, perhaps.

Jonathan Coolwaters, upon hearing Astrid with her peculiar request, looks up and endeavors to make himself as available as he can at the busy bar for her. He is a popular, kindly middle-aged human man, and a talented bar-keeper."Ab-sinthe?" he plays with the syllables in the alien word to him. "Sounds, and looks, like you need something potent. Hold on." as he very briefly disappears out of vision beneath the bar and reappears presenting a very small, thin cork-topped vial which covered with a tied, delicate black velvet bag. A wry smile draws across his friendly and slightly mischievous face.

Bomi, standing next to Astrid at this point, watches the man and glances between the vial and the barkeep. "... I'll jus' haf' an ale, John. I knews tha' devils' work when I sees it."

[silly-string]

Before entering the Inn Serianna checked, then double checked herself for any embers or smoulder, she ensured that her match is safely secured in the special chamber in the cap of her powder horn and finally, with a satisfied nod, strode into the Inn. At the bar she settled herself, smoothing her skirts and straightening her shawl before peering suspiciously at the array of bottles and hand pumps.

"John? is it?" she asked, taking her lead from Bomi, as she smiled the friendliest smile she could. The effect was rather spoiled by her horns and the suggestions of fangs that her incisors gave. "What do you have that isn't flammable? Preferably something that won't be too much trouble for someone who hasn't drunk in nearly thirty-five years."

[benjaminrussell]

Krizira entered the tavern area and was immediately dragged into the large group that consisted of her adopted family and their various partners, friends and relations. Someone thrust a drink into her hand, and someone else gave her a sandwich to eat on the journey, which she carefully put away in one of her coat pockets. Everyone wanted to say goodbye and hug her, and it was a bit overwhelming being the subject of their attentions all at once, but at least they were all people she knew well. She allowed herself the time it took to speak to everyone and finish her drink, before excusing herself, saying one last general goodbye, and begin to wind her way through the crowds in the direction of their meeting point.

[folkiefaerie]

Higvi rummaged in her pack. She stole a couple of glances over her shoulder, and when she was sure the others had gone, she pushed herself off of the cart. Muscles tense, she crisscrossed through the streets, glancing through the shop windows and smiling at anyone bothering to look her way. When she reached the bottom of the highstreet, she darted down Gref's Alley, running past the backs of shops, ducking under the railings and over the walls until she was back at the top of the highstreet. She took a breath. She started the walk again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Halfway through the fourth circuit, she stopped. The peeling violet shopfront of Vaal Paradis's post office glowed with swirling patterns of faerie-fire. Higvi peeked through the post office window. There was no one standing at the kiosk, but Higvi could see the yellow wisps of Miss Dreethian-Lock's curly hair rising up from beneath the desk.

Higvi pulled at the skin around her fingers. It was only a little breakage. Surely Miss Dreethian-Lock wasn't still holding a grudge.

Surely.

And anyway, thought Higvi, she might be happier to see me now that I'm leaving.

[Wiz0rd]

"John? is it?" she asked, she smiled the friendliest smile she could. The effect was rather spoiled by her horns and the suggestions of fangs that her incisors gave. "What do you have that isn't flammable? Preferably something that won't be too much trouble for someone who hasn't drunk in nearly thirty-five years."

"Jonathan Coolwaters, at your service. I've seen you around Serianna, setting up your flameworks for the feast day, but you've never set foot in my establishment before. In any case: welcome!
Now, to business, for you? I recommend a tall frosty glass of Coolwater(tm)! Hold on." he replaces the small vial back under the bar, and in the same hand brings up a plain, but thick glass and in a few steps reaches down again to some container and the glass is filled with a crystal clear liquid. Upon placing the beverage upon the counter, before you have the chance to partake, raising his eyebrow he passes his hand and arm in-front of the glass momentarily, blocking your line of sight. Miraculously, upon the passing of the hand, the glass is covered in a delightful thin film of frost.
"On the house." he smiles, seemingly completely unperturbed by any horn or suggestion of demonic or devilish fangs.

"Oi, John. I were 'ere furst! Turrible customer service."
"Bomi, I can always depend on your loyal custom. New introductions are important. You understand"
"Nut fer too much longer. Blasted thing. D'ya mind if I take me tankard n' bring it back? I gots somethin' to du."
"Yeah, no problem Bro-mi. Just bring it back before you go." he says as a metallic tankard of frothy brown ale is placed on the bar and slid across to Bomi's anticipating hand.
"Cheers, John, 'ta." Bomi places a few low-value coins on the counter and nods to Johnathan. Tapping Serianna and Krizira on the shoulder he quietly mutters: "Jus' goin' t' do mah chores, I'll be seein' ya at t' cart in a few."

---

Back turned from the "Journey's End", Krizira had a belly full of delicious snacks, ales and opportune shots of various spirits. Her pockets lined with sandwiches, provisions and trinkets from her extended family. Though the meeting was chaotic and brief, it was touching and meaningful. Her mind is graced with the replaying of various utterances:


"Kri-Kri! If anything happens, I'm coming to find you!"
"Remember; use your head out there. If it's a fair fight, you're doing it wrong."
"Shank 'em where it hurts, Krizira. You got this."
"Stick to the shadows, remember your training young one."
"If it ever comes to you or them, always pick you, and ride like the wind."
"While scavenging, appraise first, lift second. Think of opportune sales."

"... There is only one thing I want to say. Come back to us, beloved Krizria Sharma."

Her final embraces still warm and present upon her apparel.


Add some additional rations and family trinkets to your inventory.
For now, also add a +2 to morale saves against fear, thanks to spending meaningful time with your family.

---


http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/9/9c/LRFFXIII_-_Oasis_Village.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130318124018

New Haven's high street is as modest as the size of the town, but characteristically practical and well-equipped - mimicking the mayors' will upon the town: the ideal place for everyone and every occupation. The buildings are small, as to fit well within the confines of the small valley, and closely spread. The smithy lay next to the tinkerer's yard for example. The residential area lay further back in the cooler, inner regions of the valley, as well as the designated farming areas.

Higvi's walk routine did not take long, but with her friendly smiles her repeated passing went seemingly unnoticed. The small fenced areas behind the stores proving to be a small, relatively easy obstacle course. Many of the town's services were not in use due to the town's current festival. Each of the services were empty, apart from those participating in some way with the festivities. Each, apart from the decorated front of the New Haven postal-office.

The post-office itself was very modest: a medium sized wooden shed with window towards the high-street and a desk across the middle of the structure. The working side wall was lined with an open-faced cupboard with many small holes and slits, many of which have signs of small parcels and letters within. A door to the side of the post-office kiosk leads to the operations' second function: warehousing and dry-storage.
The front door is open and tied, and the window pane is currently not shuttered down. Within:


There was no one standing at the kiosk, but Higvi could see the yellow wisps of Miss Dreethian-Lock's curly hair rising up from beneath the desk.



Detection, with uncertainty.

Lifting up, she glances the side of the back of her head on the side of the desk with a gentle, dull thud. "H-" rubbing her head, "Hello? Some-one there?" her blonde curly hair bouncing slightly upon an attractive, young adult human female. A very small pair of spectacles sitting placed upon the bridge of her nose. In her grasp sits a small, mixed scruffy handful of sealed letters.

[Cranelotus]

"Thank you, thank you, you're too kind. A thousand divinations for you. And a plague on the houses of your enemies." said Astrid to the surprisingly kindly folk of that tavern. After awkwardly scurrying through the crowd, she sat herself down next to Bomi. She raised her hand to pat him on the back in a friendly manner, but decided against it as the gesture would be too insincere and contrived. He left soon after anyway.

"Yes, absinthe. Shed runoff is not my tipple of choice. No offence to your other wares, I'm sure they taste positively decent." she watched him disappear and stared at the spot last seen until he reappeared again elsewhere.

Astrid considered the small vial. She had no reason to be suspicious, as she realised she never much noticed the vehicle the alcohol arrived in, only that it came in a glass and the liquid was green. But something about his face made her uneasy. Nevertheless, after casting a spell earlier she had no interest in casting another one; her distrust wasn't enough to warrant it and more importantly, she couldn't be bothered.
"Nice looking bottle. May I ask the good sir for a glass too? And can you pour it? It's too early in the afternoon for drinking out of the bottle." she dumped some coins in the table as she was also unsure of the cost.
"I'm sure you'll find the necessary fare amongst the pieces of marked metal. Thank you."

Astrid slumped her head on the table but kept her eyes open. Serianna made her request and she watched the man make the drink. She saw the ice trick and pretended not to notice. However on the inside she began to find herself growing jealous even though she did not like being a witch.
"...i could do that..." she mumbled almost inaudibly. Astrid glanced around for the raven. She could not see it.

[benjaminrussell]

Krizira couldn't help smiling as she made her way away from the tavern. She still sometimes couldn't believe that she'd found such a warm and caring family - her mother and the Elven village weren't even comparable. As she'd already packed her things and done everything she needed to do before setting off on the journey, she slowly made her way back towards the towe gate and their meeting point, occasionally stopping to exchange a few words with townspeople she passed.

[silly-string]

"On the house." he smiles, seemingly completely unperturbed by any horn or suggestion of demonic or devilish fangs.

"Thank you Jonathan." she replied smoothly, carefully ignoring Bomi's angry grumblings about his being in line first. "Would it be an appropriate appology for cutting the queue to buy Bomi his drink?" she asks before taking a tentative sip of the clearwater, then taking another heartier gulp.

[folkiefaerie]

Lifting up, she glances the side of the back of her head on the side of the desk with a gentle, dull thud. "H-" rubbing her head, "Hello? Some-one there?" her blonde curly hair bouncing slightly upon an attractive, young adult human female. A very small pair of spectacles sitting placed upon the bridge of her nose. In her grasp sits a small, mixed scruffy handful of sealed letters.


Higvi pokes her head around the door.
"Miss Dreethian-Lock!" she says, smiling widely. "It's me. Higvi." She advances into the post office, holding her arms wide open like someone approaching the guards for a pat-down. She swallows. "You look busy."

[Wiz0rd]

Izan, satisfied the package is safe, casually opens the small wooden box bestowed to him. Within, two simple L-shaped rods of some metallic property are found. No further note or explanation is provided. The only additional information known about the item currently is that it is only very, very slightly magical in nature.
Armed with this new gift, following in the footsteps of his group towards the town, makes his way towards Brightshield's General Merchants.
In keeping with the rest of the town, the dedicated merchants shop is a low-level, wide building that is situated close to the front wall and surrounded by the majority of joyful townsfolk. The store looks differently today than how it is usually presented. The inside of the merchants appears to be locked, but the outside however is decorated with the towns uniform bunting and a very busy hectic table laden with various goods. Izan, when approaching the table, the hustle and bustle and haggling and frantic sales buying subsides and quickly ceases and like the parting of a mystical sea, the crowd disperses, content to carry on their dealings later.

"Ah, Izan. I was hoping to see you before you left. I trust you received my gift?"

---

Those adventuring members guarding the cart are approached from the side by the sound of heavy plodding footsteps and the metallic clinking of armor.
"Greetings sires, Gate-guard Keevan. I were to deliver a status report regarding your travels just outside the gate. To whom should I report?" the young dwarf Keevan says, standing to attention pike in hand, scrap-armor clad.

---

Jonathan pushes the coins back towards Astrid regarding her patronage, and recovers the small vial within the velvet bag. Drawing a tiny glass that would only house a very modest amount of liquid, with an intense look of concentration and care - a single, black, blacker than the midnight sky, drop lands in the center of the glass. Looking up, he nods, and proceeds to pour another drop. Holding his hand up, in a similar trick to that performed with the Coolwater(tm), as John passes his hand across the glass, the liquid momentarily bursts into a tiny flame and then the heat subsides. Gingerly, he pushes the glass forward.
"Just so you know Astrid, this isn't just a drink. This is poison of the greatest property." he smiles.

---

(Post to be continued!)

[Cranelotus]

Astrid lifted her head up off the table. She plucked the coins one by one into her balled fist. She would occasionally drop one and it would bounce off the table, and she would pick it up again.

It was not the sheer strength of absinthe that allured her. On a pedestrian level, aniseed was indeed one of her favourite flavours. But who would drink absinthe when craving the taste of aniseed? That would be madness. Instead, there was something else about it - call it rumours, romance or horror stories - that drew her to it. Perhaps it was the association with hallucinations, insanity and death. She liked to be close to death.
"Is it now? Then get the doctor ready, because I'm going to give him some work to do. " she put her palm on top of the glass to extinguish any lingering flames, and then downed the concoction.

Unbeknownst to Astrid, the raven flew in and watched her from the rafters.

[Wiz0rd]

Jonathan, after serving Astrid, slides to his left, seemingly being able to maintain four different conversations with ease and only the slightest of pauses. "Serianna, no don't worry about ol' Bomi. We go way back. That, for him, was him being playful. If it'll make you feel better, you can pay for his drink if you'd like. 4 copper pieces for a mug of New Haven Ale. How's your drink? Good?" he asks, changing the subject from petty cash. "You might want to look after your friend over there." he chuckles, as he gestures towards Astrid before moving back to her station, pulling the tiny grasp from her side of the bar.

"Astrid, listen to me for a moment, focus. You're going to feel fine for now, but soon you will experience a very intense state of drunkenness. You're welcome to stay here, but if you find it uncomfortable, the infirmary is just over there," and gestures in a direction over the shoulder of the witch, "the bakery is over there, as well as the water-well. If they do not soothe you, I recommend a hearty night's sleep." as he gestures towards the right. "Have fun!"

A quiet corvid squawk can be heard from above.


Your character is in the throws and process for being remarkably intoxicated. It has no immediate effect, but within a few minutes your character will suffer an increasing stupor. A strange blend of excitement, courage and nausea will begin to swell from within. Soon, your character will be sickened, but you will also receive a +2 bonus to morale, as well as some other unknown effects to you.

---


"Higvi pokes her head around the door.
"Miss Dreethian-Lock!" she says, smiling widely. "It's me. Higvi." She advances into the post office, holding her arms wide open like someone approaching the guards for a pat-down. She swallows. "You look busy."

Garbed in a white dress topped with a well worn leather apron, leather mitts in pocket: Miss Dreethian-Lock squints and adjusts her glasses as she hears a voice she is familiar with, but the blow to the head has left her ears ringing and sound fuzzy. With a moment of dawning realization, a curious look turns to a somewhat forced toothy smile. "Oh, it's you Higvi. Hey! You weren't due in for work today." she pauses "Is this about the-" and stops mid-sentence, briefly turning to fumble with a few letters against the other side wall. "... What can I do for you?"

[benjaminrussell]

Those adventuring members guarding the cart are approached from the side by the sound of heavy plodding footsteps and the metallic clinking of armor.
"Greetings sires, Gate-guard Keevan. I were to deliver a status report regarding your travels just outside the gate. To whom should I report?" the young dwarf Keevan says, standing to attention pike in hand, scrap-armor clad.

Krizira approached just as Keevan did. She smiled at him, glanced around and then suggested, "Me, I suppose. I can pass your message on to everyone else when they return."

[Wiz0rd]

Krizira approached just as Keevan did. She smiled at him, glanced around and then suggested, "Me, I suppose. I can pass your message on to everyone else when they return."

"Very good. Weather reports show clear skies and smooth travelling for today and a few days time. A large storm builds in the North-West, but it doesn't appear to be moving this way." He pauses and the dwarf shifts awkwardly in his armor, "No easy way to tell you this, but you might have a little trouble on your way out. There has been a strange man refusing to leave the proximity of the wall. He's surrounded by Wild Dogs of different breeds and differing health. He's already attacked and scared off a few travellers. He's no threat to the wall, so we've been told not to waste out ammunitions, and to starve him away.
He hasn't gone yet. Mayor's instruction is to seal the gate after you leave. That concludes my report. Is that all, Ma'am?"

[Cranelotus]

Astrid knocked back the absinthe and as it burned she let out an audible raspy sound more akin to a demonic growl, betraying her tiefling origins. Her meekness made it so easily forgotten.
"Uhhhh... That was pretty hefty, but nothing I can't handle... " Luckily (or unluckily depending on your perspective) her habitual drinking and self-poisoning offset her diminutive stature and she held the drink down as she felt the burning liquid flow down her esophagus; it burned right down into the pit of her stomach and over that course of a couple of minutes and became visibly slack eyed. Aniseedy, she thought to herself.
"wow Roger... Are you a bartender...Or a poisonmonger..."

Astrid proceeded to stand up ,with the intention of getting some fresh air. Sitting on the stool her feet did not quite touch the ground, and she dropped with a flat-footed thud, partially owed to the heavy black boots she wore. Triumphantly she remained standing. Astrid stood still for a moment to allow her equilibrium to settle, and then started to walk.

Four paces were managed before her shoulders hunched and her head swayed.
"I think I need... Medical assis-" she said before dropping to the ground like a collapsing cloak, unable to support its own weight without a person in it. She laid the fully conscious for a few moments.

"pallid... Gaunt... Echoes of oblivion doth flow through me... The depths of my soul hunger for it, and yet my beating heart will not allow it..." After a moment, she pushed herself up again and she stared at the door in an effort to align her eyes.
"Crackling... Beating... Coarsing..." She continued to mutter to herself. Unsure of what she was expressing, she continued to express it anyway.
"Hark Malroth..." At this point she was fully standing again and step by wretched step she moved towards the door.
"Wer sylph... tisvelk apzen.." She said. "...si mi thric irisvar..."

Astrid made it to the door. The afternoon sun yanked her from her stupor and her eyes finally focused.

[benjaminrussell]

"Very good. Weather reports show clear skies and smooth travelling for today and a few days time. A large storm builds in the North-West, but it doesn't appear to be moving this way." He pauses and the dwarf shifts awkwardly in his armor, "No easy way to tell you this, but you might have a little trouble on your way out. There has been a strange man refusing to leave the proximity of the wall. He's surrounded by Wild Dogs of different breeds and differing health. He's already attacked and scared off a few travellers. He's no threat to the wall, so we've been told not to waste out ammunitions, and to starve him away.
He hasn't gone yet. Mayor's instruction is to seal the gate after you leave. That concludes my report. Is that all, Ma'am?"

"Thank you, Keevan," Krizira said in reply to his weather report. She listened carefully to his warning, already wondering about the strange man and what his reasons for being there were. Was it a bandit trick? Or just an unfortunate fellow driven crazy by being stranded out in the desert?
"Okay, thanks. We'll keep a good eye out and do something about him if we have to." Then she waited for Keevan to leave, looked around to see if any of her fellow adventurers were nearby, and then hurried towards the gate. She scrambled up to the wall and peered over the top to get a look for herself at the wild man.

(Please lemme know if I need to make any rolls.)

[Wiz0rd]

Astrid, your character, while collapsed and drowsy and ... off-centre, you are still dipping in and out of consciousness. As various adventuring folk, Bomi including, head back towards the cart, their errands seemingly accomplished - they are witness to the babbling incoherent tiefling witch being dragged by two laughing patrons who slide the lump over to the cart also. A shadow of a *raven can be seen skittering along the ground periodically.
"This one's yours, I think." he takes a quick glance at Astrid, and bursts into a belly-shaking guffaw. They return to the tavern.

Nodding and bowing slightly, Keevan heel-turns and heads back to his post.

Moving quickly and in such a way granted to you by your trainings, Krizira stands before the iconic wall of New Haven, a large barricade made from a history of labor and mix-match of materials and techniques. It is a chaotic, colorful piece, but it has yet to fall. Being a local citizen, Krizira is familiar with the side stairwells and carved passages up to the upper walk-way of the wall, however climbing the inside wall is a popular past-time for many of the more adventurous children within the town itself. It would be a safe assumption that this is a path well traveled for our Half-Elf Rogue and would provide little challenge.


Your decision on ascending the wall. Do make a perception check however, you can take 10 or 20, seeing as you're not currently pressured for time or threat.

[Petulantcobra]

"Ah, Izan. I was hoping to see you before you left. I trust you received my gift?"

---



"Good day Mr. Brightshield. I did indeed receive your gift. It is very generous of you, the gesture is greatly appreciated!" Izan's speech paused while he took out the package and inspected the contents a second time. "Very generous indeed. I understand they have some sort of mild magical property and seem to be made of some sort of metal. They greatly resemble one of the letters in your alphabet. I have been unable to discern their function separate from the basic material properties. What... um... are they exactly?

[Wiz0rd]

As the crowd continues to disperse, the torso and person of Mr. Brightshield becomes clearer and more apparent. Izan is presented with the presence of the finely donned merchant, garbed in a colorful purple robe on top of a series of fine leathers beneath also decorated with the pattering of fine jewellery to denote wealth and consumer trust. He nods and listens intently to the Sylph acrobat.

"Ah yes! I should have explained." Ahem. "What you have before you is a cold-iron set of Dousing Rods. Being a keen collector and person interested in curiosities I thought that you may be interested in such a peculiar tool. I have never got them to work, but I'm sure someone of your," and he looks you up and down, "persuasion, could find them functional somehow. I apologize, I cannot give you any further guidance in their use, but they have been used to find sources of water in the past I have been told."

He sweeps both of his arms downwards before his trading table.

"Your friend has already been, Bomi. I offer you the same deal: any trading you require to do, I suggest you do now. I vow that I will not take any personal profit, nor mark-up on any dealings we have across this table today. Is there anything you require? If I do not have what you need here, then I will endeavor to acquire it quickly. I know you fellows are very busy."

Upon the table you see an item of almost every adventuring variety and many items interesting, useful and relevant to township living.

[folkiefaerie]

Garbed in a white dress topped with a well worn leather apron, leather mitts in pocket: Miss Dreethian-Lock squints and adjusts her glasses as she hears a voice she is familiar with, but the blow to the head has left her ears ringing and sound fuzzy. With a moment of dawning realization, a curious look turns to a somewhat forced toothy smile. "Oh, it's you Higvi. Hey! You weren't due in for work today." she pauses "Is this about the-" and stops mid-sentence, briefly turning to fumble with a few letters against the other side wall. "... What can I do for you?"


"Oh, nothing, just coming to say goodbye." Higvi advances through the post office, her hands clasped firmly in front of her. "You saw me, didn't you? At the ceremony?"

[benjaminrussell]

Nodding and bowing slightly, Keevan heel-turns and heads back to his post.

Moving quickly and in such a way granted to you by your trainings, Krizira stands before the iconic wall of New Haven, a large barricade made from a history of labor and mix-match of materials and techniques. It is a chaotic, colorful piece, but it has yet to fall. Being a local citizen, Krizira is familiar with the side stairwells and carved passages up to the upper walk-way of the wall, however climbing the inside wall is a popular past-time for many of the more adventurous children within the town itself. It would be a safe assumption that this is a path well traveled for our Half-Elf Rogue and would provide little challenge.


Your decision on ascending the wall. Do make a perception check however, you can take 10 or 20, seeing as you're not currently pressured for time or threat.

Result: 15+7=22

[Wiz0rd]

Miss Deethian-Lock shakes and reacts to your words as if being struck by some invisible force. The letters once again patter gently to the floor. She turns with watery eyes, and looks into Higvi's gaze.
"Higvi, that was today?" she throws her arms down and stamps the floor forcefully, just once. "Higvi, I'm sorry. I missed it. I didn't mean to, there's just been so much extra work over the past few days and the mayor's breathing down my neck and..." she starts to pace, white dress bouncing as she steps along the counter side. She folds over the bar to the side and enters the customer area where Higvi is standing, eyes still teary, she steps and leans into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry Hig'. Was it good? What did they say?" she steps back and gives you a warm, genuine smile. Wiping her eyes, before giving you the chance to reply, she gestures to you to wait there. She disappears momentarily and returns holding a sma--THAT ARTEFACT HIGVI BROKE.

... Except it's not. It is. But it's not broken now. It's a dirty, painted ancient piece of small pottery. A dull white, but painted in delicate runes of blue and green. Twisting it from side to side, the cracks of the broken porcelain now shimmer with various colors from a mirror sheen, to a dark purple to a brilliant orange.
Sniffling, the miss says: "See? You didn't break it. Well... You did, and the owner didn't want to take it, and it's come out of your wages, but look!" she holds the petite object proudly in display. "It's fixed now. It's better than fixed. I think it's better now, don't you? Even broken things, can be quite beautiful sometimes."

"It's for you. A leaving present." the words trail off, saddened.

---

"IZAN!" a voice rings out from behind the parting crowd to the merchant's stall. An elven man takes long, powerful strides towards his target.
"IZAN! You good for nothing thief. You better get out of town already, or you can repay your debt to me... with your teeth." he doesn't look very happy.

"Friend of yours, Izan?" smirks Mr. Brightshield, unperturbed.

[Petulantcobra]

"IZAN!" a voice rings out from behind the parting crowd to the merchant's stall. An elven man takes long, powerful strides towards his target.
"IZAN! You good for nothing thief. You better get out of town already, or you can repay your debt to me... with your teeth." he doesn't look very happy.

"Friend of yours, Izan?" smirks Mr. Brightshield, unperturbed.

Izan spoke with a judicious amount of haste in his voice "In a manner of speaking it would seem. I am afraid I must go" Izan took off running in an attempt to evade his would-be assailant. Weaving in and out of the crowd Izan is trying to lose the man down a dark (hopefully not dead-end) alleyway.

Acrobatics= [roll0]

[Wiz0rd]

Krizira, I'll presume you got 22 on the climbing check, and I'll also presume that you'll take 10 on the perception check. Please note what you're rolling for and when. Thank you! :3

Krizira scales the wall of New Haven with grace and ease, befitting for one who carries the title of rogue and adventurer. Krizia seems to skip and hop her frame from one impromptu hand-hold to another, and in a very brief amount of time she finds herself on the viewing deck. If she looked, she would probably have seen some townsfolk give her a nod and look of assured approval, others would likely shout something along the lines of: "Oi!" and other inconsquential lawful babble.

The viewing deck is modest and made out of peicemeal scrap metal that gives an assured footing but rings out and creaks with every step. Looking out and leaning over, you can immediately tell that Keevan's report is true: to the right of the main gate lies a small rock-fall and bouldered area, and upon this area a number of wild dogs of various size, species and condition can be seen relaxing and basking in the mid-day sun. The wild man on the other hand, is not immediately seen, or is otherwise not present from this perspective.

---

Izan, after replying politely to the merchant, darts out and round the dispersing crowd. One would think that a small encouraging breeze would help move between the folks, but progress is nonetheless not quite as easy or quick as these maneuvers are typically. Having a feast-day in your honor and being quite a unique individual does appear to have it's downsides!

However, while Izan's normal escape is somewhat pestered, the elven chaser's journey is totally barred. The individual made quick progress up to the merchants stall, but after his attentions were made clear, there were a handful of denizens who deliberately blocked and halted his passage.
"Not today, Bellegarth. Let it go." one pleading voice could be made out just as Izan slips around a corner to break line of sight.

Looking around, a thought dawns: in a very small and intimate town, in the middle of the blazing day, the likelyhood of finding his favourite dark shady alleyway (without the ire of this particular gentleman) is slim. Better come up with another plan of action. He is around the side of the merchant's hut, facing towards the main gate and a small gathering of his to-be companions, but his options are open as usual.

---

Bomi casually stomps back towards the cart and any awaiting companions back at the gate. He is ale-less, but he is carrying a filled shoulder-sack, and a bandolier of filled waterskins of which he slings into the back of the cart with the rest of the equipment. Approaching, he sees Krizira finish her conversation with Keevan - a dry, to the point, un-fun fellow to Bomi's mind - and she begins to climb the outer wall.
He draws in breath, raises a finger and pauses as he witnesses the skilled climb. Shrugging, he remains silent and instead turns to pick up Astrid over one arm, shakes his head, and props her up in a sitting position at the front of the cart.

"'allo lassie! Allo? 'nyeone in thare? Whut did that barstard spike y' with?"

"Jonathan!" he shouts, with a barely contained smile. There is a very small image in the distance of a bartender ducking below the nearest cover.

"Alright, sut here. Drunk thus." an open waterskin is thrust into the hands of the 'wutch' "Fer now, I'll carry yew. When I falls, I'm expectin' yew t' carry me. Are we understandin' of uch' other?" He shakes his head, still smiling, quietly amused at the rising situation.

[silly-string]

Serianna traipses back to the cart with the rest pf the partyand carefully clambers up into the back to check on her gear and cask of powder. As she rummages ghrough her pack, she mutters to herself in a harsh, gutteral language. When she's satisfied with the state of her belongings she settles herself down on a relatively level bit of the cart and pulls out some complicated looking tools and bits of wire and begins tinkering with Hadir Altanin's mechanism, quietly chanting to herself in the same harsh tongue.

[benjaminrussell]

Krizira frowned upon seeing the variety of dogs as it wasn't the usual sight from the town walls, but she supposed it could be worse. The dogs were presumably feral but probably weren't malicious like and it's, were the primary source of trouble for the town. She couldn't see the man that Keenan mentioned, but she didn't doubt that he was somewhere nearby. Clambering down from the wall, she ,are her way back to her companions to report back, both what Keven had told her and what she'd seen for herself.

[Wiz0rd]

Bomi eyes Serianna and listens to her peculiar muttering and singing in a language he doesn't recognise. He also witnesses the keen craftsman's focus as she adjusts her boomstick device in plain sight. To Bomi, any last minute adjustments equate to assurances of a projectile striking true, and this serves to his health and interests also. He decides to leave the Tiefling flamework maker to her pet. Taking a step back, he looks at the perfect pciture before him.

A half-laden cart, with furiously clucking hens, a Tiefling Witch who was blind drunk and couldn't sit up straight or talk sense, and a Tiefling Boomstick wielder who muttered to herself in the devil's tongue. Perfect. What could possibly go wrong? What could possibly improve the situation? He throws his hands up afer a brief internal discussion, but couldn't help but be slightly bemused in a sick, dark kind of way.

Turning, he is greeted by Krizira following her small journey. He nods as he listens intently to the report.
"Aye, seems aboot as gooda place as any to pitch up n' rest ye weary bones, lassie. I'm nut suprised. I ain't got a problem puttin' down stray dogs, if it comes to that." he says cooly, loosening his shoulders. "Solves our meal ticket fer the day, anyway." He reaches in and carefully slides his pole-hammer from the cart and hefts it casually over his shoulder akin to a sportsman's bat.

Looking around, he shades his eyes with his free hands: "Naow, where are thos' tu?"

[Cranelotus]

Shrugging, he remains silent and instead turns to pick up Astrid over one arm, shakes his head, and props her up in a sitting position at the front of the cart.

"'allo lassie! Allo? 'nyeone in thare? Whut did that barstard spike y' with?"

"Jonathan!" he shouts, with a barely contained smile. There is a very small image in the distance of a bartender ducking below the nearest cover.

"Alright, sut here. Drunk thus." an open waterskin is thrust into the hands of the 'wutch' "Fer now, I'll carry yew. When I falls, I'm expectin' yew t' carry me. Are we understandin' of uch' other?" He shakes his head, still smiling, quietly amused at the rising situation.



Though she was consciously lying on the floor outside, Astrid thought she had died when Bomi picked her up. Suddenly, her leaden limbs seemed so weightless. Her soul was rising out of her body, floating into the ether. Her mortal body had ceased to be, croaked it, kicked the bucket, and she had joined the choir invisible.
"I have failed you all...I have failed the quest...Tell them to go on without me..." she slurred quietly to herself.

Astrid moved her hands. They reached Bomi's beard. She stroked it.
"By great grandma's spatula...what is this...?" she stroked it more. Astrid had no idea what she was touching. She felt herself be slumped up against something. She was still yet to open her eyes.
"Why...how disappointing...In the throes of my heavenly ascension I appear to have plummeted back to Vaal...I saw heaven...It is a giant beard...What is all this clucking...? Oh lord..."

When Bomi put the drink into her hand, Astrid's fingers reflexively curled around it, as spider's legs do when they die. She tipped the water into her mouth. It may as well have been liquid gold. In its most reductive and basic form, reality subtly returned to her, starting with recognizing the sensation of a sip of water.
"Thank you Bomi...you're so nice...All those things they say about you aren't true..." she said in a slurrying drawl. Her head tilted forward, but she held onto the waterskin. The feeling of the water splashing around was nice.

[benjaminrussell]

Turning, he is greeted by Krizira following her small journey. He nods as he listens intently to the report.
"Aye, seems aboot as gooda place as any to pitch up n' rest ye weary bones, lassie. I'm nut suprised. I ain't got a problem puttin' down stray dogs, if it comes to that." he says cooly, loosening his shoulders. "Solves our meal ticket fer the day, anyway." He reaches in and carefully slides his pole-hammer from the cart and hefts it casually over his shoulder akin to a sportsman's bat.

Looking around, he shades his eyes with his free hands: "Naow, where are thos' tu?"

"We probably won't have a choice in the matter," Krizira replied, leaning over the cart to extricate her crossbow from the piles of belongings. She started giving it a quick examination as she continued talking, making sure all the parts were working smoothly in preparation for the likely upcoming combat, even though she'd given it a good clean and maintenance before she set out that morning.
"Free food is always good," She grinned, before adding, "Unless it's diseased of course."

"I didn't see where they went, but I'm sure they'll be back shortly." She glanced around as well, but was more interested in watching Astrid mumbling to herself and acting like she was about to die.
"What on earth did she drink to make her this drunk this quickly?" She asked Bomi incredulously, certain that none of the tavern's usual fares would have that affect on someone, even if they weren't used to lots of alcohol.

[Petulantcobra]

Looking around, a thought dawns: in a very small and intimate town, in the middle of the blazing day, the likelyhood of finding his favourite dark shady alleyway (without the ire of this particular gentleman) is slim. Better come up with another plan of action. He is around the side of the merchant's hut, facing towards the main gate and a small gathering of his to-be companions, but his options are open as usual.



Izan took a moment to breathe in the relative safety of the alley. It had been some time since he had been confronted by someone of whom he had run afoul. Even so, that experience remained one he wished to repeat as few times as possible. He was sorely tempted to try to figure out how to use the gift granted him by Mr. Brightshield, but he thought better of it on the off chance that his erstwhile pursuer should decide to start looking for him again.

The best course of action, he thought, would be to rejoin his companions near the gate. So that is just what he did while trying his best to remain unnoticed in the crowd.

[roll0]

[folkiefaerie]

Miss Deethian-Lock shakes and reacts to your words as if being struck by some invisible force. The letters once again patter gently to the floor. She turns with watery eyes, and looks into Higvi's gaze.
"Higvi, that was today?" she throws her arms down and stamps the floor forcefully, just once. "Higvi, I'm sorry. I missed it. I didn't mean to, there's just been so much extra work over the past few days and the mayor's breathing down my neck and..." she starts to pace, white dress bouncing as she steps along the counter side. She folds over the bar to the side and enters the customer area where Higvi is standing, eyes still teary, she steps and leans into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry Hig'. Was it good? What did they say?" she steps back and gives you a warm, genuine smile.

Higvi's arms are pinned to her side as Miss Dreethian-Lock binds her in the hug. She smiles to herself, enjoying the moment, but not entirely sure how to react to the sudden display of emotion. Wasn't Miss Dreethian-Lock angry with her? She should be angry with her. That artefact was worth so much money, and she had lost an important client in the process. Higvi should have been thrown out of town.

That's why she joined the adventuring group in the first place, and now Miss Dreethian-Lock looks... Sad.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Higvi stares at Miss Dreethian-Lock, watching her lips move but not really listening. She could have stayed! Miss Dreethian-Lock wanted her to stay, and now... And now...

Higvi begins to take short, panicked breaths, raising an arm out to Miss Dreethian-Lock as she turns and leaves the counter, just missing a bouncing curl of her hair.

Maybe it isn't too late. Maybe she could just tell the others she isn't going. Maybe they would just forget about her. She could hide here, and-

Miss Dreethian-Lock is back. Higvi tries to give her a smile but it fails as soon as she sees what she's holding. The artefact.

[QOUTE]"See? You didn't break it. Well... You did, and the owner didn't want to take it, and it's come out of your wages, but look!" she holds the petite object proudly in display. "It's fixed now. It's better than fixed. I think it's better now, don't you? Even broken things, can be quite beautiful sometimes."
"It's for you. A leaving present." the words trail off, saddened.[/QUOTE]

Higvi nods a few times, her tongue feeling as thick as boot leather.
"Th-thanks. But..." She swallows, trying to form her quivering lips into a grin. "I shouldn't touch it. Don't want to break it again. Not after you've done all that work." She holds her hands behind her back and looks down at her dusty brown laces.

[Wiz0rd]

"I have failed you all...I have failed the quest...Tell them to go on without me..."

Still shouldering his weapon, he turns and occasionally palms Astrid in the correct direction to avoid her from falling from the cart, be it over the front or the sides."Yew ain't failed no-one yet, lassie. Yew ain't gettin' outta this that easy. We're shipp'n off sooner rather thun later, drunk or not." though it was at this point that Astrid began fumbling around with Bomi's short dwarf beard and it is also at this point that Bomi is totally stunned.


Astrid moved her hands. They reached Bomi's beard. She stroked it.
"By great grandma's spatula...what is this...?" she stroked it more. Astrid had no idea what she was touching. She felt herself be slumped up against something. She was still yet to open her eyes.

To fondle a dwarf's beard is considered quite the flirtatious and intimate act, and considered taboo outside shaded tavern corners and in private homesteads. Allowing another to braid, decorate and maintain a dwarven beard is a true act of trust and is usually reserved to couples. With this in mind, Bomi immediately turns a shade of flustered red, visibly shifting and blushing. Astrid not only was literally blind drunk, not to mention a relatively infamous witch. But still, he stood momentarily enraptured by the Tiefling temptress, only a fool would say they weren't curious and she certainly did have a degree of charm...
"Bah!" he slapped away the hand and thrust the waterskin back into her hands. Another time.
He returned to the engaging chatter he was having with Krizira. His focus elsewhere he only hears: "... Bomi ... You're so ... Those things ... Aren't true...", if this means anything to him it is impossible to read from his unmoved body-language and now cooling expression.

Still standing with the cart, Bomi carefully inspects Krizira's actions and crossbow. He held a quiet contemplative gaze as she performs tests and maintenance on the piece. Fine craftsmanship, functional, precise, without excessive flair. "Movin' parts. I can ne'er get my head 'round 'em." he shakes his head.


"Free food is always good," She grinned, before adding, "Unless it's diseased of course."

Bomi returns the grin, he nods. His line of thinking exactly. "I thunk I see that sylph fella', but I'm never too sure wit' that one."
"Johnathan's always got a trick up his sleeve. Tells me is part of the territory o' bein' a low sorcerer. Who knew?"

---

Izan, using an old city-slicker's trick, easily manages to evade the anger and aggression of his pursuer. Grabbing a passerby to get their attention, for the price of one [fake] gold coin he trades his travelling cloak to that of a very similar travelling cloak of a different color. Hood up, changing his stride slightly and lowering his height: without facing the shop-front of the Bright-shield shop front, he arrives non-nonchalantly amongst the adventuring crew, choosing to remain quiet and out of the direct line of sight of the town for now.

"Ah, thar yew are. Haf' fun?"

---


Higvi nods a few times, her tongue feeling as thick as boot leather.
"Th-thanks. But..." She swallows, trying to form her quivering lips into a grin. "I shouldn't touch it. Don't want to break it again. Not after you've done all that work." She holds her hands behind her back and looks down at her dusty brown laces.

She puts the artefact on the table for a moment, her arms propping her frame up as she leans on the desk. Her lips shift from side to side as she appears to be concentrating deeply on something. She turns, and taps her face gently.
"You don't break everything you touch, do you? If you do break it, how much do you break it? I never really asked properly before. I thought it would be rude." she shrugs and smiles awkwardly, hoping not to cause offense. "I might have an idea."

[folkiefaerie]

She puts the artefact on the table for a moment, her arms propping her frame up as she leans on the desk. Her lips shift from side to side as she appears to be concentrating deeply on something. She turns, and taps her face gently.
"You don't break everything you touch, do you? If you do break it, how much do you break it? I never really asked properly before. I thought it would be rude." she shrugs and smiles awkwardly, hoping not to cause offense. [/COLOR]

Higvi shakes her head. "You're not," she says, clasping her hands tighter. "It's nearly everything. I can just about manage clothes as long as they aren't buckled. Buckles are bad for me."


"I might have an idea."

Higvi looks up at her, wide-eyed. "You do?"

[Wiz0rd]

Higvi shakes her head. "You're not," she says, clasping her hands tighter. "It's nearly everything. I can just about manage clothes as long as they aren't buckled. Buckles are bad for me." Higvi looks up at her, wide-eyed. "You do?"

She hums, tapping her finger across her chin. She begins to frantically spill her pockets out onto the desk, pencils and gloves flopping and all. In another movement, she unties and takes off her apron that lay over the top of her dress.

She wraps the simple, faded white apron around the amulet - no buckles, and says
"Here. It's ready for you to take! I don't want it, and it's yours. You can pay me back another time. Just gives you another reason to come back. You aren't fired, you're ... just on a special assignment." her uncanny good mood betrays a deeper concern. She holds up the small wrapped gift, it dangling in the protective cloth.

[silly-string]

Serianna pauses in her tinkering to peer up at the commotion from the front of he cart and catches Astrid stroking Bomi's beard. The shock almost causes her to drop her tools. "Blood and hellfire!" she mutters and shakes her head. "When did this expedition turn into a bawdy-house?"

with a disapproving tut she quickly tightened the last screw that she had been fiddling with and carefully packed her kit away.

[Wiz0rd]

As Higvi returns, Bomi offers a warm smile and a slight bow, he looks at the party in turn and with a nod he turns and moves towards the cart.

With an "Excuse me ma'am" he prompts Serianna to finish her gunwork and to slide off the cart, passively allowing the intoxicated & affected Astrid to remain, slumped and murmurring onboard.

With a jerk, the cart squeaks into life and is slowly pulled into motion, Bomi not opting for a beast of burden, arms to either side, hands grasped to protruding beams, a steady gait begins its forward motion. He walks the vehicle through the small crowd of his party, offering: "Aight thun, las go while it's still light 'ut."

He steps past, presuming where he goes the party would follow, all of their business concluded within the confines of this fetid town with weak morales (to his opinion).

Waving at Keevan without emotion or any fan-fare, Keevan in turn motions towards an unseen figure to a shaded doorway nearby. Soon after, a hidden wide doorway and passage begins to shift open quietly - only the slight shifting of rock and creaking of metal can be heard. All things considered, it is remarkably quiet.

Bomi looks over his shoulder:

"So. Marchin' orders, folks?"

Keevan overhead taps his foot expectantly.

If Astrid speaks, Bomi will merely spit on the floor and quietly utter: "Quiet yew."

As before - the day is still fair, the sunlight is blazing and crisp, baking the hard, cracked wasteland ground. A few light, fluffy, white distant clouds can be seen and a light pleasant constant breeze can be felt, strong enough to put hair and light cloaks into motion. It could be considered quite pleasant, but a long day in the sun will require reasonable water intake and potential care of the skin, if your character is inclined.

"Good fortunes, adventurers. I have been ordered to prevent your return by this means for the rest of this day and the next, until you return for good reason - either with news or trading, or for your continued survival." Keevan says from above earnestly, foot still tapping.


Remember: Your character is still Blessed. Some of your characters may be either highly intoxicated, or tipsy, otherwise granting your some Dutch Courage. Otherwise, you're all in top condition.

[benjaminrussell]

Krizira hefted her crossbow into her hands, ready to fire at the dogs if needed, and followed Bomi towards the gate.
"I suggest we head up the valley to the Bolt Hole," She replied, glancing around at the rest of the party to see their reactions to her suggestion.

[silly-string]

Serianna nods at Krizira's suggestion and starts loading the ornately carved and gold chased dragons head at the muzzle of Hadir Altanin. "That sounds like as good an idea as any. We should also try to keep Astrid well watered, she's going to regret imbibing that poison tomorrow. If we want her even remotely able to function we should do our best to avoid adding sunstroke or dehydration to her list of ailments."

[Petulantcobra]

"That sounds like as good an idea as any. We should also try to keep Astrid well watered, she's going to regret imbibing that poison tomorrow. If we want her even remotely able to function we should do our best to avoid adding sunstroke or dehydration to her list of ailments."

"Yes, any direction is preferable to none. I will stay near Astrid. I can ensure that she has the benefit of a cooling breeze until she eh... is... through borrowing fun from tomorrow." Izan directed the breeze which perpetually surrounds him to ruffle his cloak for a bit of emphasis and turned to Astrid. "What have you gotten yourself into now. If this is to set the precedent for our adventure you will be the one owing me favors by the time we get back." Izan said with a slight chuckle. "In any case. Enjoy the breeze"

[Wiz0rd]

The impromptu portal emerges by an unseen magical force. Krizira takes the first step across the New Haven boundary.

Her crossbow is front and center, poised to take immediate and decisive action, closely followed in toe by the others.

After a few steps forward as a group, the dogs earlier seen begin to take notice and stir. Some growls and barks are offered as you approach. They are not loud or fierce, but their behavior is defensive and warning. A few moments pass and a figure rises from between some taller rocks and boulders, amongst the canines. They have a humanoid physique and a mass of unkempt brown hair. They ruffle their own hair, and then pets one of the animals.

What do you want your characters to do?

[silly-string]

Serianna looks at the figure nervously. Hadir Altanin flicks up from the loose grip at her side and she glances at her companions, uncertainty flickering across her face as she tries to see what the rest of the team will do.

[Cranelotus]

Piece by horrifying piece Astrid's senses returned to her, and bringing with them a banging headache, nausea and a horrifically dry mouth - in other words, a hangover. She felt every bump, every single grain of sand under the cart and it rattled her entire being each time. She pulled some of her navy-purple rags over her face to try combat any sunlight threatening to pierce her tightly closed eyelids. She regretted choosing to wear linen. Note to self: wear opaque scarves in case of hangover she thought to herself.


"Yes, any direction is preferable to none. I will stay near Astrid. I can ensure that she has the benefit of a cooling breeze until she eh... is... through borrowing fun from tomorrow." Izan directed the breeze which perpetually surrounds him to ruffle his cloak for a bit of emphasis and turned to Astrid. "What have you gotten yourself into now. If this is to set the precedent for our adventure you will be the one owing me favors by the time we get back." Izan said with a slight chuckle. "In any case. Enjoy the breeze"

The breeze from Izan was pleasant, and had she known the source, she would have thanked him too. However she did not, and instead she just enjoyed the relaxing effect it had and laid on the hard cart slightly more contented.

She heard the dogs growling. It made her heart judder, which in turn stirred her sensitive stomach. She was afraid of dogs. They made something in her panic in a primal way, and even though she would not give off any tell-tale signs of her fear, her consciousness sprinted through the jungle of her mind with its eyes closed and arms frantically swinging. This primal fear put a bit more immediacy in her, but she still could not think straight enough to make full sentences, let alone cast spells.

However, the raven came to mind. Astrid could not see the dogs, and she did not quite trust the judgement of people. But she trusted the judgement of an animal, and would gauge the situation based off his reaction. If the raven was panicky, then she would be inclined to believe the group was in danger. If she was fully conscious, it would be enough to put her into preemptive action.
"Bird...raven...I summon thee..." she mumbled into her cloak.
"Someone...find my bird...It is a raven..." she dragged the cloak off her face and held up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. She looked for any signs of the raven, and for everyone's sake she hoped it was still.

[benjaminrussell]

Krizira called out, "Who are you? What do you want?" She held her crossbow so it was pointed towards the ground - attempting to look non threatening, but so she would still be able to fire quickly if the man or the dogs attacked them.

[folkiefaerie]

Higvi cringes at Krizira's pointed crossbow. She swallows, then plasters on her "welcoming face" and waves up at the figure.

"Hallo!" she calls, "Never mind us, we're just passing through. Good day for taking the air, isn't it?"

(17 on Diplomacy)

[Wiz0rd]

While Serianna keeps her eyes peeled and her trigger finger itchy, the group cautiously advances. She scans the local area continually, promising to be the first to spot any "funny business".


As your character was glancing and otherwise being defensive / passive, I've rolled a 19 on her perception check. Look on, dead-eye.

As the cart creaks forward, Astrid appears to mumble and stir, shifting in her small mass of cloth and protection. Unbeknownst to her party members, it is during this concentration and muffled calling that she feels and observes an empathetic connection to her avian familiar. The link is subtle but profound, from once there was one mind, there are now two, but not quite two, more like one and a half perhaps. Astrid is aware of another presence in her mind, but it is a small one: this small thought at the back of the head feels more like a series of colors and feelings than anything truly substantial. The raven offers you a warm sensation and welcomes your mental presence, but is otherwise curious and cautious of the beings ahead.
It is also at this time that where once a dry mouth and a head-ache were to be believed as the promising start of a hang-over, turned out to be something far worse: it were the early onset of a vicious bout of vomiting. It is burning, thick and painful, but Astrid immediately begins to feel more stable after. Bomi only has a moment to hear the gip and the movements of the stomach to react and guide the head of Astrid from the confines of the cart to the floor below, he holds the hair out of the way with a grimace.

"Thas it lass, gut it 'ut. Ye coulda pucked a better time though."


Oh-ho-ho, hangover? You're not out of this yet poison-imbiber. Actions have consequences. Wishful thinking, friend. It's been about 30 minutes in-game-time since you've drank.
Astrid takes 1 point of non-lethal for vomiting and is still sickened, but as such you will go from being incapacitated to barely-functioning. You can stand, speak, concentrate and cast spells, but there may be some other effects or unexpected results. Bomi rolled a 15 on a reflex save, to 'aid'.

It is during this time that Astrid, Bomi and Serianna provide the background to the emerging scene in-front. Krizira and Higvi appear to be performing an earnest diplomacy (intimidation?) and quiet "good-cop, bad-cop" act.

In response, the figure emerges fully from within the rocky terrain. They appear as a thickly built, rough-n-ready, unkempt human male, middle-aged (or cracked, scarred and wrinkled from an extended time in the wastes), garbed in tough looking layers cloths and leathers. He wipes his face once, and begins walking without fatigue or injury. As he walks, the mass of dogs and wolves also rise, follow and spiral excitedly around the man while others advance and growl decisively.

"Yui cuka kruk baremd sra vorr?" a gravel, throaty voice asks.

As many of the adventuring group have more than one language at their disposal or have otherwise read or traveled, a few mumbled reactions can determine that this is the spoken Druidic tongue.


http://www.dandwiki.com/w/images/1/19/Impetus_Paragon.jpg
(Without the weapon handle)

[Cranelotus]

Astrid had eased into the idea of a hangover a little too much - in general, if there is a hopeful option often then one is usually inclined to believe it, much the same way that someone would believe a compliment but be sceptical of an insult. If one could consider a brutal hangover the best of all possible options anyway. As she laid in the floor of the cart she suddenly felt something rise up her stomach and esophagus, and immediately regretted lying horizontal. She shook her head and swallowed frantically, but alas could not undo what was to come. She was going to heave in the bottom of the cart whilst everyone's stuff was in it.

As luck would have it, Bomi's perceptiveness had come to her aid once again - or perhaps the aid of everyone else, considering the original location of her upheaval, and she felt herself slump over the edge of her of the cart before spewing her guts up in all tiefling-witch glory. This is truly the worst day of my life she thought to herself. Throwing up felt really really awful, and she instantly regretted ordering absinthe at the bar. The mere thought of alcohol made her wretch again.
"Oh Bomi...I apologize for being such a burden..."

She hung over the edge for one long moment and let her inner world gather itself. Her heart was beating ever so rapidly. The smell of sick was making her nauseated again and she took steps backwards and slumped into the cart. Then after another moment she pulled herself to her feet. Her legs shook rapidly, but at least she could stand. She felt purged, like some kind of twenty-five year old infant. Astrid opened her eyes and gazed upon the man. It appeared that whatever her companions said to him, he was acting standoff-ish. The raven was on edge. She decided to speak up.

"Salutations sir...I'm afraid I do not speak the language that you speak...may this humble character ask if you speak common? Vs'shtak? Voroyrlid? Akhwwid? Huukec? Halfling? ****ien elven?" she wiped the remaining vomit from her mouth with the back of her hand and flicked it on the floor and looked the man dead in the eyes. She was sweatening and her eyes had deep bags under them, and she couldn't even muster a friendly expression if she tried. Her cheek muscles were too tired from wincing in agony and she no longer gave a ****.
"If not, then I strongly suggest that you allow us to pass freely. I am really, really not in the mood for this." she spat on the floor again.
"I am the witch Astrid. I do not like people. And right now, I really don't like you. They say I can curse a man in the blink of an eye, but that is the least of your worries. I am the unholy devil incarnate, and I swear on Belhifet's life that I will lay waste to thee. Stand aside now, and I'll do you the favour of forgetting that you ever existed." she snarled with genuine hatred in her voice. Even if he didn't understand a word I said, that should do it.


[roll0]

[benjaminrussell]

Krizira added to Astrid's barrage of questions, "Dwarven? Sylvan?" Then started edging around the gathering of dogs, heading away from the town. If she was heading towards slightly higher ground, then that was entirely coincidental.

[folkiefaerie]

"I am the witch Astrid. I do not like people. And right now, I really don't like you. They say I can curse a man in the blink of an eye, but that is the least of your worries. I am the unholy devil incarnate, and I swear on Belhifet's life that I will lay waste to thee. Stand aside now, and I'll do you the favour of forgetting that you ever existed." she snarled with genuine hatred in her voice. Even if he didn't understand a word I said, that should do it.

Higiv stares at Astrid, her mouth hanging open. Then, swallowing her shock, she walks over to Astrid.

"Please, you are not fully in control of your actions right now. We don't want a fight - especially not when you're off your face. Just leave the talking to me, okay?"

She smiles up at the man. "Forgive my friend. She's had a little bit too much mead." Taking a step forward, she points at her chest. "I'm Higvi." Then, fingers stretched wide, she gestures to the man. "What's your name?"

Diplomacy: 5 + 9 = 14

[Wiz0rd]

All of which that is described before happens within a few moments over 20 seconds, during of which the bedraggled mysterious man carefully inspects you all, now standing to attention a safe distance away and nearby to the rough terrain of which he emerged.

He looks as if considering replying to the various questions and list of languages offered, but instead ends up doing something else entirely.
Perceiving carefully, between the maneuvering and positioning crossbow-wielder to the east, to the fiery sulfurous words of a surly mage and vomit-spitter, to the brief glimpse of a readied pocketed profane device (yes, he spotted the gun), his expression changes to blank and emotionless, and the party experiences that perhaps familiar cold chill of excitement and adrenaline that precedes an inevitable violence.

Before the party has time to react, the dog-man commands the pack with a single barked utterance and himself withdraws behind a large nearby rock and quickly gathers full cover.

In the foreground however, a dozen dogs of varying size and health go from barking nosily to growling fiercely with raised lips and sharp menacing smiles as they charge quickly towards the various members of the group. It is safe to assume that unless your character is behind something, or someone else, you draw the attention of one of these aggressor beasts.

It is during this charge towards you that it is clear that some of the dogs are foaming at the mouth with spittle, and one other, perhaps more worryingly, is a large wolf - but to your perhaps horror, this wolf has wears an undead-like description. Limp hair, a foul smell, and an uncanny lack of certain biology such as the eyes and jaw.


Surprise round over.
'Dog-man' uses two move actions, one to command his guard dogs / animal companion / summoned allies to attack. One other to move behind a nearby large boulder and maneuvers to gather full cover.

I will draw a battle-map for your convenience at my next opportunity, but I will answer any questions about your foes / geography that you have.

Player speech and reactions as free and at any time, but otherwise - Initiatives folks.
Let me know if you want me to simulate your turn as you've described. You can do this over FB chat if you wish.

[silly-string]

Serianna barked out something in the same guttural language that she'd singing in before, disgust dripping heavily from the sharp and ungainly syllables. with a click of metal on wood and the woosh of igniting powder. A great gout of flame belches forth from the jaws of Hadir Altanin followed by an acrid cloud of white smoke.

[ROLL]1d20+5

[Petulantcobra]

[roll0]

Izan takes cover, putting the cart between himself and the oncoming pack.
Having established a barrier that should provide some sort of protecting from aggressive zombie wolves, Izan drew his crossbow and peeked around the corner of the cart aiming for a shot at the undead entity.

[roll1]

[Wiz0rd]

Badly-drawn battle-map (https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B_QpWfMHBkt1bFMwcF9TeHBfMEE/view?usp=sharing)

With furious barks, howling and the gnashing of fearsome fangs and teeth, it is obvious to all that combat is about to begin, with all prepared to defend themselves - yet some hesitant to harm or be harmed perhaps.

Without much surprise, the vastly outnumbered adventuring group receive first blood - the wild dogs small frames and their ferocious, starving will evaded attempts to halt their charges into dangerous spacing. The first dog to arrive at our adventurers heels faces and chases down Higvi, the hapless diplomat and bites her calf and leg painfully, obviously drawing blood and spilling unto the cracked earth below. A pained yelp from the fetchling signals that these beasts are not play-fighting in the slightest, nor this mysterious wild-man an ally of any sort.

Krizira, spotting this, breathes deeply, shakes the adrenaline from upon her hands and puts into practice what she has done hundreds of times before. Draw the bead. Adjust for bolt drift and lag. Point and click. It is a close shot, but the dog swings wildly at the last moment, clawing at Higvi's leg. Krizira's shot landing wide also. Calm as ever, she begins to load the next bolt.

It is this moment where bad seems to turn to worse, as two more wolves join in an organised pack offensive against the oracle, but no strikes come to bare harm and she only receives minor scratching to their mildly-horrifying excited animalistic actions. It's at this point it becomes clear that Higvi is vastly outnumbered and left out on point of the current situation.

Following the bolt, as Krizira steadily loads her next attack, a stray dog-shaped missle launches itself at her half-elven form and in a brutal hugging motion, succeeds in a terrible chomp to her mid-section, piercing both leather, flesh and gut. Intestine showing, Krizira manages to push off the dog from it's terrible lock back upon the ground, but is heavily wounded.

Meanwhile, Bomi drops his grasp of the cart, and hefts his pole-hammer as he charges towards the outnumbered Higvi and attempts to even the score. Arriving with heavy, dwarven footing, the dwarf swings a wide horizontal arc into the side of one of the three dancing hounds and it is dispatched into a silent, broken dog-shaped mound. "Hugvi' lass, gut bahind me." he implores.

It was during his swing however, a well placed arrow sores silently towards the undead wolf husk and plants itself upon its form, like a shaft to a target. Bulls-eye. Izan's pride and short-satisfaction would have to wait however, as the strange creature does not seem to even react to the impact, arrow now jutting out of the now open eye socket. He could have sworn he was hidden during that attack too, from behind the safety of the cart and chickens and such. Most things cannot withstand surprise attacks so easily. How peculiar.

Another dog shortly enters the fray from the area of his master. This canine is different from the others so far as in it is clearly more of an obvious threat - with wild bloodshot eyes and a terrible yellow, foul-smelling foam at the mouth. Just as Bomi's blow recovers back to his stance, a bite lands succinctly upon his thick dwarven forearm, rabid drool slavering the wound. Immediately arterial blood mixes with the disease and Bomi's usually ruddy color begins to fade almost immediately. During this, he's still standing and headbutts the dog in order to be released.

The second rabid aggressor immediately charges Astrid at the request of his owner. Astrid, now standing and only swaying a little, using her newly found vigor, confidence and swagger, deftly (luckily?) dodges out of the way of tooth and claw. The dog barking and spraying the front of the cart with all kinds of putrid biological oozes.

It is at this point Higvi is torn, Bomi is in obvious need of aid - warrior or not, yet her own situation is not a tremendous deal better. They walk the razor's edge. On the one hand to opt and save a healer and to perform subsequent healing, on the other, to save a friend. In a moment of cold reality, Higvi gathers a stony expression and clarity of mind and with a quick prayer and a five-foot-step, falls in line behind Bomi's extended reach, now returned to perfect health - her wounds not even scarring a little.

Higvi uses just a moment to dodge and weave away from her attackers and in the next moment, performing unknown oracle mysticism, the large undead wolf suddenly becomes bound to its own shadow, unable to move by its own accord. With a smile of satisfaction, it appears Higvi had just nullified one of the largest apparent threats on the field.

Astrid however, instead of finding clarity in the moment, revels in the reckless chaos of combat and enjoys the opportunity to test-drive some of her granted powers freely. A single muttered hex leaves the rabid animal, who attempted to assault her, completely unconscious. The sandman doth come. Sweet dreams, pitiful fetid unworthy creature not soon to depart from this life. F**king thing.


Serianna barked out something in the same guttural language that she'd singing in before, disgust dripping heavily from the sharp and ungainly syllables. with a click of metal on wood and the woosh of igniting powder. A great gout of flame belches forth from the jaws of Hadir Altanin followed by an acrid cloud of white smoke.


Shot pounding into the form of the rabid dog that had just assaulted Bomi, in a moment the beast collapses, skull shattered grisly by the force of the impact. The harsh guttural language momentarily becoming whimsical and taunting as Serianna begins to pour herself a new shot.

Momentarily after, the large undead wolf catches a glimpse of Izan with its one remaining good eye and begins to charge at him directly. It reaches the cart without being waylaid and leaps upon the cart and dart across it to throttle it's new victim. Unfortunately, the days and nights have not been kind to this pour soul or form. A dramatic leap single lurch was all it took for the beings failing body and as it springs with great effort and energy, it manages to separate itself from it's own legs.

There's a legless, squirming undead wolf in the cart on the valley floor.

Three other wolves also join the fray, avoiding Bomi and Higvi and now surround the cart also, eyes switching and debating between attacking the characters, or stealing some chickens and grains. The characters around the cart are surrounded!


This is a fluff post, for your enjoyment. This has been the result of the first round of combat (for storytelling, I'll put the crunch in a spoilered post tomorrow. It's now 12:35, I gotta' hit bed. Hope you enjoyed. (We're screwed!)

Edits: in strikethrough.

[Wiz0rd]

Turn 1 begins

Initiative Order:
1) Dog 1
2) Krizira
3) Dog 2
4) Dog 3
5) Dog 4
6) Bomi
7) Izan
8) Rabid Dog 1
9) Rabid Dog 2
10) Higvi
11) Astrid
12) Serianna
13) Undead Wolf-thing
14) Dog 5
15) Dog 6
16) Dog 7

---

Dog 1 charges Higvi. Attack roll: a 12+1(modifiers)+2(Charge)= 15, hit! Damage: 2+1= 3. Higvi has 4HP remaining. This dog has -2AC until their next action.

Krizira is eligible for a sneak attack due to her high position on any target under her in the initiative during the first round - instead she opts to roll for stealth vs. the dog attacking Higvi. She rolls an 18+enoughto succeed. Attack roll: 4+4(Dex)+1(Bless)-4(shooting into melee)= 5, miss! Krizira uses her move to load a bolt. Bad luck there.

Dogs 2 & 3 also charge Higvi, rolling 6 and 8 respectively on their attack rolls. These dogs also have -2AC until their next turn.

Dog 4 charges Krizira, the only attacker thus far. Attack roll: natural 20! Damage: 3x2+1= 6. Krizia has 2HP remaining and is bloodied. Dog has -2 to AC. Using a crossbow in melee combat provokes attacks of opportunities.

Bomi charges towards Dogs 1, 2 and 3 and the space adjacent to Higvi. Attack roll vs Dog 3: 18+2(charge)+4(STR+BAB)+1(Bless)= 25, hit. Damage: 8+4= 12. Dog 3 is slain. Bomi has -2AC until his next action.

Izan succeeds on a stealth roll, behind half-cover, on a roll of 13+13= 26. Using his shortbow (not crossbow) Izan takes a shot at the undead wolf, as described by his post. Attack roll: 11+5+1 = 17, hit. Damage: 3, no sneak attack damage on undead creatures.

Rabid Dog 1 charge attacks Bomi after slaying another dog ally! Attack roll: Natural 20! Damage: 3x2+1 = 7, Bomi goes to 5HP. Bomi rolls a 3+7 = 10 vs. resistance to Rabies. Fails. Bomi takes 4 points of Constitution damage. Bomi falls to 3HP due to HP reduction. Bad Rabid Dog 1, naughty dog. Rabid Dog 1 has -2AC until their next action.

Rabid Dog 2 charge attacks Astrid. Rolls a 6+1+2 = 9, miss.

Higvi takes a 5ft step back behind Bomi, not provoking an attack of opportunity and casts Cure Light Wounds on herself, rolling a total of 5+1. Higvi is back to perfect condition! Higvi takes a 5ft-step and uses oracle magic to lock the undead wolf in place, binding it to its own shadow and preventing its movement.

Astrid uses her slumber hex as a standard action that does not provoke an attack of opportunity. Rabid Dog 2 rolls a 3+1 on resisting the spell-like effect, and fails. Rabid dog 2 is fast asleep! Astrid uses her move action to move behind the cart with Izan.

Serianna lines up a shot at Rabid Dog 1 that has wounded Bomi. Attack roll: 16+5(DEX+BAB)+1(Bless)-4(shooting into melee)= 18, hit! Damage: 6. Rabid dog 1 is slain. Free surprise intimidation from the sound of gunfire: rolls a 5, no effect.

Undead Wolf charges the cart in order to reach Izan and Astrid, and rolls a natural 1. The undead wolf is unharmed but immobile and in the cart, fluff described above.

Dogs 5, 6 and 7 use their movement actions to maneuver around the battlefield carefully and prepare melee attack actions. They have surrounded the cart.

End of turn 1!

[Cranelotus]

Astrid juddered on the spot, unable to quite compute what she had just done. Her fingers twitched, her eyes darted between everything that moved in the battlefield, and she felt as though she had suddenly become hyper-aware (the truth was not quite so dramatic). She did not feel as though the hex came from her - rather, the words for the hex heaved out of her mouth like a triggered gag reflex. She hated dogs, and reasoned that the primal fear in her had given her an adrenaline rush, and the words simply presented themselves through her in her time of need. Though not to downplay her skill, in the eye of chaos she felt like water - water composed of used alcohol and chunks of yesterday's dinner, but water still.

She witnessed the rabid undead wolf set its sights on Izan. She then witnessed itself rip its own legs own. Astrid erupted into laughter, unable to contain herself. She took a few deep breaths, looked at the gnashing body on the floor and started laughing in full throttle again. How witch-like, to cackle so freely.

Astrid composed herself somewhat when the three other wolves surrounded them. She didn't really know how to save herself (rarely did she know what to do in most situations, but some would say there's a difference between how much salt constitutes one pinch and a pack of bloodthirsty dogs). Peeking from behind the cart she looked to the people near her - Bomi, Serianna and Izan. And suddenly she realized that she would have to rely on the group to ensure her own survival, and this fact frightened her deeply.

The realities of adventuring had come so harshly that Astrid imagined she wouldn't be the only one feeling sobriety was forced upon her. For them to save her, she decided that she would have to do her bit to save them. Astrid surveyed the battlefield again - Bomi, Serianna, Izan, Higvi and Krizira. Deciding that everyone else could probably survive at least two dogs bites, logic dictated that she would be the one to help first.

"Good grief, I regret waking up today. Let's adventure tomorrow, shall we? Or possibly next week. You're looking rough, elf-girl. Through flesh, dirt, sky and lumber, out of us and them dogs have the higher number, well let me make a suggestion: take a slumber!" with a few more words than necessary, Astrid casts Slumber on the dog threatening Krizira.

[benjaminrussell]

With the control over her reflexes born from years of training to be as quiet as possible, Krizira managed not to cry out when the dog attacked her. She dropped the bolt she'd been in the process of loading, but managed to keep hold of her crossbow. She smacked the dog with it in an attempt to get it away from her more than actually hoping to do some damage, although the motion pulled at her wound and sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through her. Luckily Astrid chose that moment to come to her aid, quite possibly saving her life, so Krizira allowed herself to slump against the cart and set her crossbow down beside her, clutching her stomach with one hand. She managed to drag her dagger out of its hidden sheath, feeling a little safer with a weapon in hand even if it wouldn't likely do her much good if she was attacked again.
"Thank you," She rasped, giving Astrid a weak smile.

[Wiz0rd]

Loud bags, strange incomprehensible atmospheric shifts and battle cries all serve to stew and befuddle a beasts' mind and senses, and such, one of the dogs unleashes a savage leap at another dog, not one of play or bickering, but one of earnest killing intent. With claws outstretched, a vicious bite splashes crimson from the other dogs back.


Luckily Astrid chose that moment to come to her aid, quite possibly saving her life, so Krizira allowed herself to slump against the cart and set her crossbow down beside her, clutching her stomach with one hand. She managed to drag her dagger out of its hidden sheath, feeling a little safer with a weapon in hand even if it wouldn't likely do her much good if she was attacked again.
And with such, Krizira gained a moment of solace, embracing full cover with allies and a barrier between danger and risk. Her only clear quandary being what she opts to do in her next critical moments.

Fellow dog, with another ally clawed and attached lock-jaw upon their body, had no qualm with attacking Higvi, clawing with an uncanny natural prowess, they strike and draws blood again. The pain and injury not being enough to overcome Higvi's adrenaline and willpower, however. She stands stoically, wounds and all.

The canine who sunk their terrible natural weapons into Krizira's mid-rift, rather than continuing the chase, sunk eagerly into quenching more base desires: starvation. Lapping up the viscera, blood and torn muscle, the dog loses their concentration on the fight to enjoy a well earned, and desperate meal upon the arid ground.

Bomi, on the other hand, is not distracted by the promise of an impromptu meal and ignoring the sinking feeling of an inevitable terrible disease, strikes with a loud, efforted roar and with his elongated hammer, delivers a terrible shattering blow to one of their shared dog enemies. The poor victim slumped, never to be in motion again.

Izan, scanning the situation, poked his head and weapon out above cover and took the shot against one of the distracted animals. The shot struck true and the attack was all the more painful and shocking owing to it's hidden, stealthy nature. Arrow half-deep into the lungs of the beast, with a wheeze and whimper, the animal spun senselessly and collapsed, the light of their life leaving their eyes. Izan, cooly, prepares his next action.

Higvi, with gritted teeth and determination, with an uncharacteristic martial streak, throws a wild swing with her twisted, malformed morning star. One of the more prominent spikes lands cleanly and cruelly in the skull of her last attacker. Wrenching her killing tool free, one of the metallic spikes remain in her foe. A gory jewel upon the brow.


"Through flesh, dirt, sky and lumber, out of us and them dogs have the higher number, well let me make a suggestion: take a slumber!"
And with such, her will be done, and a four legged creature bows and departs for the lands of dreams, victim to the wills of the awake and ready.

Serianna, standing steadfast, acting with a grace of many nights practiced motions, a metallic ball of promising death is loaded, and fired with a mighty roar and lick of flame. The shot grazes and scatters the back claws of a drooling distracted dog. It's stance and step now replaced with an injured hop.

Only one other hound has found any semblance of success, in the combat and confusion, has managed to slay and begin to carry one of Bomi's prized chickens from within the safety of the cart. The chicken still and silent within the jaws of the dog, now lops as the predator practically skips with joy away from the adventuring band, prize in mouth.

Nearby, from within the rocks, the unmistakable sound of an eagle's cry pierces the action. A silhouette glides and traces a shady winged shape across the wasteland, rising away from the sight and sound of combat. Only a careful, undistracted, squinted eye could tell.

[Petulantcobra]

Izan, scanning the situation, poked his head and weapon out above cover and took the shot against one of the distracted animals. The shot struck true and the attack was all the more painful and shocking owing to it's hidden, stealthy nature. Arrow half-deep into the lungs of the beast, with a wheeze and whimper, the animal spun senselessly and collapsed, the light of their life leaving their eyes. Izan, cooly, prepares his next action.



"Well that's one less we have to deal with. Let's see if I can't do that again" Izan thought while drawing back another arrow. He took aim at the creature absconding with one of the chickens and let it fly.

[roll0]

[benjaminrussell]

Krizira pulled her scarf from around her neck and pressed it to her wound, gritting her teeth at the extra pain the action caused. Then she clawed her way to her feet, leaning against the cart to keep herself upright, and kept the scarf pressed against her stomach with one hand while she held her dagger out with the other, ready to strike if she was attacked again. She would've like to help fight off the last of the dogs, but she felt that if she tried to move she'd end up on the floor again.