A greensingers tale

[Kaptin Keen]

The Moot.

It's a legendary, almost magical term. There is no set schedule, it's never in the same place twice, and no one really seems to call it. The Moot seems to happen when it's time for The Moot to happen.

Word spreads in whispers, spoken softly at the camp fire, in the shadows, privately. It spreads by cries hollored from mountaintops, echoing down canyons.

Word spreads in elation: There will be news, there will be trade, there will be new people. But it also spreads in concern, worry, even fear: Will there be war?

The savannah is vast beyond reckoning, south of the unscalable mountains of Æhrengaard, south of the river Æhren, west of the ocean and mighty Madripore. It takes many months for news to travel across such lands - for it to reach so many different people. And so it is a long time coming.

Even so, as autumn approaches, travellers from many tribes join together as they approach the site of The Moot. Through varied grasslands you travel, distant mesa's growing nearer.

Two different tribes of gnolls have sent warriors, long strides and longer spears - their hyena laughs grinding on your nerves. There are harn, huge and strong, knuckle walkers with hands that can crush stone. And all the other peoples of the plains: Halflings and humans, centaur and satyr and hobgoblins. Stranger creatures still, birdlike aarackockra circling overhead, leonine lamia, and creatures unseen but only rumored, whispered: Shadowy skyven, deadly spiderkin.

Each night, the gathered caravan makes camp. Dozens of camp fires, many races at each. The Moot calls for peace among all who come - but it's not always easy. Many who come consider others to be prey, or slaves.

At one fire, a human woman introduces herself as Beana, and welcomes all - she also cooks for everyone who can pay, in gold or barter. She is an elderly soul, but clearly strong and able. Dressed in practical garb and with few decorations, only the tools of her trade stand out: Her work worn sickle, many pouches and a smell of herbs and spices around her mark her as - most likely - a healer.


Introduce yourselves. Why did your tribe send you to the moot - if they did?

At the fire you also see a satyr, drinking wine and smoking a pipe. Gnolls bickering over some meat. Halflings playing a game involving dice and tokens. Humans fixing some gear.

The actual goals of this campaign aren't going to be immediately apparent - but we'll get there. Also, I never deal in absolutes, so most things will be grey zones.

[Phyzor]

After roughly a week of travel his tribe finally reached the Great Moot. This year though, he feels like this is going to be something else. He has no idea why or what and he cannot explain it, but it is like he just knows. Excited and somewhat scared (which he does not show) he starts scouting the area around his campsite. He hears Beana introduce herself, but he heads over to the halflings. He speaks to them in halfling Hey guys, what game are you playing, can I play? He takes a glance to see if it involves any gold.

[GravityEmblem]

I walk to the fire and sit down, contemplating why jy Cheif sent me. It's rather obvious I think. I, despite my young age, am one of the more talented psionic users, and I do have a way with people... I turn to the Gnoll. I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Kexon. My tribe sent me for the Moot. Might I ask your name?

[Kaptin Keen]

Hey guys, what game are you playing, can I play?

The two halflings exchange a glance, and one answers: ... I dunno - can you?

They explain the rules of the game, which is called Gan. It's all about the tokens, and how they are placed. And if the dice show this symbol, you can place them thus, and if they show this other symbol, you can place them like this. Now, if you roll doubles, you can place to same tokens on top of each other .... it goes on like this for a while.


Roll IQ. Or sense motive, if you have it.

The halflings are called Avin and Kia.



I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Kexon. My tribe sent me for the Moot. Might I ask your name?

The gnolls - there are three of them - are bickering about meat. Who gets the most, who gets to pick first. They are frankly in the early stages of letting this actually become a fight. Maybe. Or maybe gnolls are just like that, socially. They look up, aggressively - but then seem to remember themselves. The Moot is peace bound.

Kexon, growls one, I am Vrygo, and these are Grin and Patch. As if to show who's who, Grin grins when mentioned, and Patch scowls at you from his single eye. There seems to be no obvious reason why Vrygo is called Vrygo. We are warriors of the Bonepicker tribe. We come to the moot for glory.

Everyone comes to the Moot for their own reasons. Obviously, everyone goes because the Moot is where decisions are made. But some come to trade, some come for news. Some come to find a mate. And some, like these gnolls, come to fight. Peace bound or not, there is always a Pit at the Moot.


I've made an OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?535893-A-Greensingers-Tale-(OOC)&p=22372557#post22372557) thread, by the way. Please make a link to your character sheet in your first post there. I will also keep - and try to update - a cast of characters.

[Phyzor]

Off course I can! My name is Smelkie, who are you and what are your reason to some to the Moot? Smelkie takes the dice and rolls them over the Savannah ground, a mini sand cloud swirls up in the air when the dice hit the ground. He follow's the halflings instructions as good as he can remember and places the tokens accordingly.

[roll0]

[Kaptin Keen]

We're just curious. You never know what a Moot is about, until it actually happens.


The game is very much a game of hazard, and very volatile. You can quickly lose - or win - a lot of money. You play a few rounds, going pretty much even. You have an idea they're trying to bait you to bet more heavily. You also think you might be able to trick them, make them think you don't really get the rules yet.

[Phyzor]

After playing a couple of games casually it's obvious these two are out for my gold, well... thats not going to happen. It seems they're trying to let me win, so I'm planning to ask silly questions about the rules. One or two are questions I've actually asked before, responding with a "Oh right, you told me before" and some other comments along that line. While playing, Smelkie chats with them. Yeah you're right. I'm also curious what this Moot will bring. I still haven't catched your names. Did you travel far? With which tribe did you arrive here? Mostly smalltalk to get the game going and aiming for winning their trust and a big win in the end.

Once I get the feeling they let me win three/four rounds in a row I will propose raising the stakes. I'm getting the feel of this game, let's play for 5 gold pieces a game He plans to intentionally loose a few rounds before proposing to raise the stakes again "giving him a chance to win his money back". He will look around seemingly distracted to what's going on around him, taking note of the bckering gnolls. I mean those laughs go through your spine.

When the stakes are even higher, thats when Smelkie plans on winning big.

[Kaptin Keen]

Avin and Kia exchange a look: What? No. The tribe isn't here. We were picked to go - I guess because if they didn't pick us, we'd go regardless. It's a big old adventure, you know? Exciting!

We travelled all the way from White Sands. That's north and east up by the river Æhren, where the savannah almost becomes desert. How about you?
Who are you travelling with, and from where?

The games goes back and forth. It's one of those games where the pot explodes, so before he knows it, Smelkie is in for 25 gold. Of course that means the full pot is 75, 50 of which would be winnings.


Please roll bluff, and sense motive, and any supporting roll you can think of - a social skill while you tell stories to distract them, for instance.

Their rolls:
Avin:
Bluff: [roll0]
Sense motive: [roll1]
Kia:
Bluff: [roll2]
Sense motive: [roll3]

Clearly, the game isn't really fair - because they are playing two vs one. But if you win, you win =)

Edit: Ha! They roll amusingly poorly.

[Phyzor]

I come from the more wooded to the south, towards the mountains. I travel with my Tribe elder, he is resting right now.


[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2], was thinking wisdom/charisma both have a +1 modifier.

If I loose, what are my chances to steal some coins from the pot, got a good sleight of hand. Aint a rogue for nothing right ;)

[Kaptin Keen]

How the dice roll:
Avin: [roll0]
Kia: [roll1]
Smelkie: [roll2]


As the final pot goes back and forth - a round of Gan has several turns of betting and bidding - Avin and Kia realise Smelkie isn't as clueless as they thought. Their tactics are sound, and they are 2v1, but Smelkie plays well too, and in the end, it's blind luck that wins the game: Smelkie simply rolls better, and cashes in 50 gold for his trouble.

Oh well, says Kia, guess you can't win 'em all, eh? Well played, you pick up games fast. But then, we should know better than to gamble against another halfling, right?

It's getting late, and Beana is cleaning up the camp, making ready for the night. Everyone turns in, and goes to sleep.

Do you set watch?

[GravityEmblem]

I suppose so. Not sure what that means, however.

[Kaptin Keen]

Setting guards requires more discussion than might be expected: The humans don't trust the halflings, the halflings don't trust the goblin - and no one trusts the gnolls. In the end, a system is agreed upon, each hour of the night assigned to two races, who can ten watch over each other as much as the camp.

Everyone goes to bed. Sleep is uneventful, until the sun peeks over the horizon. Avin, who had the last watch, quietly pokes each of you.

Hey! Wake up, he whispers, and points.

Out on the plains, maybe half a mile distant, are a squad of human cavalrymen. Just standing there, watching. One guy has his lance raised high, and from it flutters a banner - three coins on black, the sign of Mountainshade.


Mountainshade being, in case you forgot, the largest of the human settlements. It's quite a few miles north, but their patrols range far and wide.

[Phyzor]

Ha! Guess I was Lucky there! Smelkie grins, taking the pot and putting it away safely. Was nice playing with you, thanks for the game and goodnight.

When woken up, he glances with his sleepy eyes towards where Avin is pointing. Huh.. what's that he asks in a quiet voice. What are they doing here?

[Kaptin Keen]

Well, mumbles Kia, who is now also awake, the humans in Mountainshade patrol a good chunk of the savannah, to keep an eye on the tribes and so on. Maybe that's all? Checking what we're doing.

This is interupted by a long snarl from Vrygo. Humans, he growls, I say we kill them. We're sworn to peace with each other ..... but not with them. He raises his spear in open challenge of the human riders.

[Phyzor]

Hmmm, patience Gnoll. Give me a chance to see what they're up to.
Smelkie gathers his gear and heads over towards the calvary trying to stay in the shadows. He does not want to be seen, one halfling versus a squad of calvary is not a good combination.
Can i see

[roll0]
Can I see how many there are and if they seem hostile or if they're just patrolling

edit: great Nat 1 :)

[Kaptin Keen]

It's always the smallest things.

Smelkie is a halfling - naturally quick and quiet. He slips through the tall grass like a shadow through fog. He pick his path correctly, to where the wind carries the conversations of the human riders to his ears.

... we will see where they are heading, estimate their numbers, and report back to the sheriff, he hears.

Satisfied that they are not seeking conflict, he prepares to sneak back - but in the half light of early dawn, even halfling eyesight isn't perfect. It's just a little thing: An arrow, bronze, fired ages ago, forgotten here among the bones of the small antilope it killed. When Smelkie turns, a bone under his foot snaps, and in an instant his foot sinks 6 inches, and the old arrowhead pierces his foot.

Both the snap, and the subsequent howl of pain, is easily heard by the soldiers.

A spy! Calls the captain, bring him to me.

There is a thunder of hooves, and before he knows it, Smelkie is staring at the pointy bits of three lances, levelled at him. Off in the distance, he hears an annoying laugh, grinding on the nerves.

You plains people understand the common tongue well enough, so no funny business. Come with us .... or else!

[Phyzor]

His mind is like a tornado when he steps on the arrow. Who leaves that lying around he thinks. Blaming eveything and everyone but himself. When in a wink of an eye, at least it seems so, he's surrounded. He's clever enough not to run or pick a fight (yet).

Well dear sirs, he starts. I must admit I got rather drunk at the campfire last night. That made me snore like 20 centaurs so they sent me out here to sleep. The sound of horseshoes woke me up and I found it more safe to return to camp than to stay here. Forgive my clumsiness and please let me return. We mean no harm, I swear.

1d20+5

[Phyzor]

another try for that roll[roll0]

[Kaptin Keen]

The guard isn't impressed with Smelkie's tale. Don't care. Captain wants a word, he gives Smelkie a gentle poke with his lance tip, that way!


In terms of fighting or running:

The rest of the group are 500 meters away, through tall grass and rugged terrain. Outrunning a horse isn't really an option, nor is assistance from the camp. Not in time, that is.

Fighting 1v3 is a bleak outlook. In your favor counts that they are not PC classes - so no fighters or the like - but they are mounted, and a lance has range 2 (if you know what that means?).

Not saying you can't win. Just saying it's not easy. Might be simpler just to comply =)

[Phyzor]

Allright, allright. But keep that lance to yourself or you might regret it. You woke me and I'm hung over so I'm not in the mood. He starts walking the pointed direction taking in these humans more closely. He looks at what they're wearing and if he can somewhat quickly cut their sadles unnoticed, might come in handy to know upfront.

[Kaptin Keen]

The lancers walk Smelkie back to the larger group. Here, the captain dismounts, and approaches Smelkie. It's clear, looking more closely at the group, that they are militia - nor army regulars, as it were - with largely similar gear and dress, but no strict uniform. Regardless, they have that air of competence.

Hello, spy, begins the captain, I'm captain Thorpe, out of Mountainshade. I have no quarrel with you or yours at this time, but such a large gathering of forces is clearly worrisome. So since you invited yourself, I ask you:

What is the purpose of this gathering? Who are you, where are you going, what is your purpose, who leads you?

[Phyzor]

Well goodmorning to you too captain Thorpe. My name is Smelkie and I was woken up by your colleagues here. I am no spy, I was merely trying to get back to the camp. We are just a non military group on our way to the Moot. To trade and feast. We are of no threat to Mountainshade. Since we have no quarrel with you either I suggest you let me go. I have done nothing wrong, so I dont see the point in sticking those lances in my face.

[Kaptin Keen]

The captain taps a spyglass at his side:

You may not be military - such a ragtag band wouldn't deserve that name. But you are a column more than a hundred strong, all armed. There are harn and ogres among your number. You say you have no quarrel with Mountainshade? Then you bring a suspiciously large force to our doorstep.

I'm quite convinced our sheriff back home would very much like to have a few words with you. Tell me: Why would I let you go?


Roll something - bluff or diplomacy or whatever.

Depending on how the horse reacts, it might be possible to cut the saddle straps of one horse. There are twelve in all, plus the captain. That's not a bad force of cavalry, but while they might cut down a decent bit of the caravan, they'd do so at the cost of their own lives.

Further, roll ... I dunno, anything that you might know about local geography. Knowledge nature would do too - for landmarks and so on.

[Phyzor]

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Kaptin Keen]

Hahah .... you also need to tell me what you're trying to do. The rolls cannot stand alone =)

[Phyzor]

If you take me I will call for my friends, If you let me go you're free to return home. I assure you we aint a hostile band, but don't try to provoke us. That will cost you something very valuable...

Im unsure if my rolls stand, so rerolling upfront for you to decide.
[roll0]

[Kaptin Keen]

The captain blusters at your threat: They are half a mile away, and we're cavalry - they'd never catch us if we wanted to avoid a fight.

But that's only partly true - part of the column are centaurs, and besides being faster than human riders, they are exquisite archers. It's somewhat debatable whether centaurs are trustworthy at the best of times, and their dedication to saving an unknown halfling is an unknown factor, but then the captain doesn't know either.

Eventually, he tries for a different approach:

Well ... to be honest with you, we're not here looking for a fight either. So suppose I asked you: Our boss, the Sherif in Mountainshade,
would like a word with someone about this minor exodus across our lands - would you be willing to come, freely, and speak on their behalf?

[Phyzor]

That depends, what's in it for me?

Smelkie is trying to get a reading on the Captain, why this sudden change of heart. Is he true about what he's saying? If so, he will come At the right price obviously.
[roll0]

When the captain seems trustworthy he will excuse himself to gather his stuff back at camp. Also letting his fellow travelers know he will be heading to Mountainshade and that this patrol doesnt mean any harm.

[Kaptin Keen]

Better diplomatic relations with the largest city on the plains? Shopping in the great stores of Mountainshade? Hells, I'll throw in bed and board at the finest inn for hundreds of miles in any direction!

Smelkie is pretty sure the captain is genuine article: His patrol came upon something he didn't know how to respond to - and now he's handily found a way to give his boss a better source of information.

[Phyzor]

I see.. he pauses as he's see posibilities here. So if I understand you correctly I'm getting free bed and breakfast at all Inn's around Mountainshade and some coin to shop.


[roll0]
cant blame a halfer for trying :)

Well, what are you guys waiting for. Let's go. Which horse is mine?

[Kaptin Keen]

The captain raises an eyebrow briefly, then shrugs. Precisely, he says, smiling.

He orders two of the outriders to share a mount, giving you the one freed up. Only fair, seeing you're a guest and all. The two soldiers agree to this without too much grumbling. They're a guy and a girl, and it seems the arrangement isn't entirely without benefits to both.

It's two days ride to Mountainshade. It is, without comparison, the largest 'city' young Smelkie has ever seem. There must be thousands of souls here (in fact, the sign outside says 2600), and there are manned walls (reinforced palisades, at least) and paved roads.

The population is mostly humans, but the odd halfling or gnome makes an appearance as you ride slowly through busy streets. Eventually, you pull up in front of Abelard's Guesthouse.

Tell ol' Abelard I sent you. He'll put you up with room and board. He digs into a pocket, comes up with a couple of silver, and tosses them to you: And there ya go - some coin to shop. He grins at Smelkie, not unfriendly. The sherif will be by later for a word. He might have an actual reward, if he likes your information.

They take their horse back, and ride off.

[Phyzor]

During their journey to Mountainshade he tries to get to know what the riders know about the moot already and why the sherrif is so interested in knowing more. He does not ask the Captain these questions, but the man he got the horse from.
[roll0]

Taking in the approach to the city Smelkie feels overwhelmed which quicly turns into excitment. He's like a 4 yr old that can't stop jumping up and down. Firing all sorts of questions at his fellow travelers. What can you eat here? Why are the Streets so busy? What was that animal? Why do people live so close to each other? Is there enough water in the well for everyone? Whats that smell? etcetc

Once he's dropped off he realises something. Wait! He yells after them. How will an Inn know I can stay at your costs? At least give me a medal or something to prove my story. Smelkie is getting the feeling he got tricked and he's not a happy camper at the moment.

He stands outside pondering what to do. Hit the streets and shop and take in the cityvibe or get inside to introduce himself to Abelard and wait for the sherrif.

[Kaptin Keen]

The outriders are a friendly enough bunch, so long as the conversation isn't across the point of a lance. They answer Smeklie's questions as best they can. The reason the sherif is interested is quite simple indeed: It's his job to know. When hundreds of armed - and possibly hostile - tribesfolk cross the lands around Mountainshade, he needs to know their intentions.

The other answers go something like:

Anything you like!
What do you mean, busy?
That's an ouzang - it's kind of a small flying monkey? They can be trained to make deliveries. Also they're cute.
Because it's way more convenient?
Well, there's more than one well - and a stream too.
That's ... propably the tannery, or the alchemist.


The captain replies over his shoulder: Just tell him I sent you - it'll be fine.

The inn is right on the town square. The square itself has a market that sells all kinds of food and sundries. Surrounding that, actual shops sell clothes of many types - fashion being basically incomprehensible to a plainsdweller - there is a clock maker, and map maker, a small coffee house, a general store. Also here are the town hall, the sherifs office, and a small temple.

Of course behind Smelkie lies the inn - also inticing, as a wonderful smell of fresh bread wafts through the open door.

[Phyzor]

Hmmm I can Always check the square later, that smell..... YUMMY! He opens the door behind him and enters the Inn. He looks around to see who is inside, if he can spot any valuables and where the stairs are located . That may come in handy later..

Then he looks for the Innkeeper and introduces himself. He looks up to Abelard Hello dear Sir, I am Smelkie Greenhopper. Captain Thorpe told me I can stay here. I must ask you, where does that lovely smell come from. I would like to have some of it, is that possible?

[Kaptin Keen]

That would be my internationally acclaimed bread, young halfling. Come in, come in. It's one silver for a meal, two for a bed - but I'll settle that with our heroic outrider captain. So - I'm Abelard. What's your name, sir?

The guesthouse is a sturdy old building, large and propably built for some other purpose, in some distant past. Many small rooms branch off everywhere from the common room - at a guess, the smaller rooms are used for privacy, meetings and such. The inn is in three stories, with rooms above.

[Phyzor]

Like I said, my name is Smelkie Greenhopper. Nice to meet you. His age must be getting him already...
He looks for a table to sit and eat and perhaps continue the conversation, but for now food is on his mind. Good food is a thing you wake him up for in the middle of the night so to say.

[Kaptin Keen]

Ah. What I meant to say was: What can I do for you. Food, I guess, eh?

Abelard cuts slices of bread, sets sausage, cheese and butter on a table, along with a mug of ale. The bread, as promised, is fresh from the oven, and quite excellent. Abelard provices idle chatter for maybe 15 minutes, then another man enters the guest house.

A young man with a trimmed, dark beard and glasses, wearing loose clothing - one might call the robes - and with a few tubes hanging from his belt. Perhaps unexpectedly, he presents himself as: Brighton Holt, sherif of Mountainshade. He extends his hand, seeming friendly enough.

[Phyzor]

Thank you Abelard, it does not only smell delicious, it looks even tasty. His mouth starts to water as the table is set. First he puts a thick layer of butter on the bread and chunks it in. I can eat this all day he smiles. That process continues until there is no more bread. After that its 'dessert-time' as the ale, cheese and sausage are calmly consumed.

Smelkie watches the man enter. He returns the gesture with a firm handshake. So you're the boss of the men that pointed a lance at me first. I'm Smelkie Greenhopper. Come sit and join me. He points at the food left on the table Please take some. Abelard give the sherrif some ale as well He says this with an air of hospitality.

What is in those tubes? he asks curiously.

[Kaptin Keen]

Um ... mostly paperwork. I keep wanting to get one of those sleek satchels people use in the cities - but I happen to have these to hand,
and they're pratical enough. He waits for more bread, and ale, to arrive, then sets to with a hearty appetite.

The name is Smelkie, right? So as you're by now aware, the outriders have noticed large numbers of ... various races moving through our lands. This is generally cause for concern, we've had any number of larger and smaller skirmishes with the plainsdwellers.

So if you can, Smelkie, I'd like to hear what all these people are doing here. We do not seek any hostilities, but would like to be prepated in case others bring them upon us.

[Kaptin Keen]

Elsewhere - while Smelkie and sherif Holt talk - Nathanial walks through the town gates.

Mountainshade is a large town, as such towns go, walled and well defended. Guards eye him suspiciously as he walks in, but one man isn't enough to be any real threat, and he enters unchallenged.

Before him lies a slightly dusty, but busy town, many people going about their business, hauling goods, working leather, wood or metal, and so on.

The main street leads to a small square, where an establishment called Abelards Guest House offers beds and ale. Also, the enticing scent of freshly baked bread issues from here, almost irresistibly.

[Coniferous]

Nathanial peers about the town, looking at the various souls plying their trades. On see the leather workers, the approaches, saddle slung over his shoulder. He places the saddle near the labourers, half dropping it, with a dusty, muffled thud.

"Lads. I'm looking for paying work. I can manipulate metal into weapons and protection, or provide both with accompanying services. A lightly used saddle to whoever can point me in the direction of coin."

Licking his lips absentmindedly, he smacks his lips several times, contemplatively.

"...And food and drink."

[Kaptin Keen]

An elderly geezer chews a straw and reclines in the shade of a porch. He ponders this monumental question for awhile, finally ajusts his hat, and answers: Fer stuff of such a nature, yer best bet would be t'sherif. He just went int'Abelards, over yonder. Ye mite go'n ask him yer own self.

[Coniferous]

Nathanial nods his head and pats the saddle resting on the ground.

"You, sir, have earned yourself a saddle and a 'thank you'."

With nothing further, Nathanial turns towards the guest house and proceeds enter, the smell of freshly baked bread tantalizing his senses.

[Kaptin Keen]

Walking into the common room of the inn, Nathanial is met by the view of a large but low-ceilinged room, with numerous doors leading off to other, smaller rooms - stairs also lead up, presumably to where rooms are.

Only three people are present, a young halfling, and a human dressed in loose garments, and with some tubes hanging from his belt - and finally the old innkeeper, presumably Abelard, who is currently tapping a couple of fresh ales.

[Coniferous]

Nathanial approaches the innkeeper, getting his attention with wave of his hand.

"Good morning, innkeep. I'm looking for gainful employment and directed here. Am I to assume the sheriff is sitting at the table over yonder?"

Nathanial gestures with his thumb, pointing over his shoulder to the table.

"If so, I'll take a gallon of ale, three mugs and a loaf of that wonderful bread for myself and the table."

He punctuates the end of his sentence by counting the coins out, thumb by thumb from his pouch, and placing them with a soft slap onto the counter.

[Phyzor]

Well sheriff, we are on our way to the Moot. It's an occasion that , well, happens. It is not scheduled, but someday it is just time for it. Its a gathering where all tribes come in peace Smelkie emphasizes this word peace to make the sheriff clear it is a peaceful gathering to trade, feast, elaborate and make decisions.

At that moment Smelkie is briefly distracted as someone enters the Inn. But that is gone in a second as he focusses back to the sheriff.

NO need to worry, the tribes aren't planning to invade Mountainshade. We have nothing to gain by that. We love living where we do. This is too much of a buzz for the majority. They chose a life of peace and quietness. If you don't trust it just sent a scouting group to follow their movements, but please don't raid my friends.

[Kaptin Keen]

Abelard seems slightly startled by such a large order of beer - for, after all, just three people. But being not the sort to say no to paying customers, he gets to work, filling pitchers. Four pitchers, to be exact, one and one third of a pitcher for each, which he proceeds to bring to the table, along with another serving of bread, cheese and sausage.

The sherif is no less startled than Abelard, when rather a lot of beer is put in front of him. And so Nathanial joins the table.

[Coniferous]

Nathanial takes a chair from a nearby table and drags it lightly to the table, with the back of the chair facing forward. He sit, straddling the chair, with his arms folded casually over the back of the chair.

"Don't mind me, gents. I'm not here to interrupt. I'd just like a word after you're all done."

He reaches forward to bring a pitcher and mug closer to where he sitting and tears a large chunk of bread out of the loaf. Motioning with the torn piece of bread he says:

"Food and drink're on me, as a sign of good faith for your consideration."

After a gulp of ale and a mouthful of bread, devoured gluttonously and without any etiquette, he regards the other sitting at the table and wipes his mouth with his arm.

"Please, please, continue. Don't let me bring a halt to your conversation."

[Phyzor]

I see you're expecting party, who's birthday is it? He likes a drink or two, but with this much ale for just himself he's 100% sure he wont be able to reach his room alone. That raises some suspicion as to why the human puts that much ale on the table...

[Kaptin Keen]

The sherif enjoys another round with you, but states that:

Well, I think I've got what I came for. You seem to be not a threat to our town, and you're clear to move on or stay as you wish.
Good day to you both.

With that, he excuses himself, and walks off.

[Coniferous]

As the sheriff walks off, Nathanial begins to rise, a finger in the air in protest, but the sheriff is already through the door before he can raise the issue. As he seats himself again, with a slump, he pours another mug of ale. Looking towards the halfling, Nathanial says half jokingly:

"I don't suppose you're hiring muscle, friend?"

[Phyzor]

HEY WAIT! Smelkie jumps up and runs after the sheriff. He looks back at the stranger, and gives him a quick .. huh... no, runs out leaving the door open and with a louder voice to be sure the sheriff hears him continues: You cant drag me all the way over here for a 5 minute chat and nothing in return. A bed is nice, but captain Thorpe also promised me a free bed in a hundred mile radius of Mountainshade. How will an innkeeper know that that is the case? He awaits a reply before continuing.

Also, how am I supposed to return to my friends, a ride would be the least you can provide for me.

[Coniferous]

With a sigh, Nathanial looks at the food and drink still on the table.

"So much for first impressions. Now what am I going to do with all of this?"

After a moment of contemplation he smacks his head with his palm.

"And I sold my saddle for this lead!"

Nathanial shakes his head slowly to free his mind from the thought of the lost opportunity and foolish mistake he had made. In a last desperate effort he cranes his head towards the innkeeper and asks:

"Innkeep! Do you know where a man might find work? A smith, military company, maybe a little old lady who lost her son in a mine and has coin to spare?"

Again he shakes his head, regretting is poor choice a words.

"Forgive me, that was a tasteless joke. Must be the ale talking. But I could really use a job that requires someone to work metal and test their metal against others."

[Kaptin Keen]

HEY WAIT! Smelkie jumps up and runs after the sheriff. He looks back at the stranger, and gives him a quick .. huh... no, runs out leaving the door open and with a louder voice to be sure the sheriff hears him continues: You cant drag me all the way over here for a 5 minute chat and nothing in return. A bed is nice, but captain Thorpe also promised me a free bed in a hundred mile radius of Mountainshade. How will an innkeeper know that that is the case? He awaits a reply before continuing.

Also, how am I supposed to return to my friends, a ride would be the least you can provide for me.


Did he tho?! He promised you bread and board at the finest in for hundreds of miles - because Abelards is the finest in anywhere on the plains. Also, pretty much, the only inn. But never mind that =)


The sherif answers: Well - you were on foot before as well, weren't you? So you're no worse off than you were. I don't even think we've taken you too far out of your way. You'll be fine. He does look as if he regrets not offering you more. After a moment, he adds you could team up with that other newcomer for safety. And, you know what, I'm sure Abelard can fix you up with some provisions for your travels too.


With a sigh, Nathanial looks at the food and drink still on the table.

"So much for first impressions. Now what am I going to do with all of this?"

After a moment of contemplation he smacks his head with his palm.

"And I sold my saddle for this lead!"

Nathanial shakes his head slowly to free his mind from the thought of the lost opportunity and foolish mistake he had made. In a last desperate effort he cranes his head towards the innkeeper and asks:

"Innkeep! Do you know where a man might find work? A smith, military company, maybe a little old lady who lost her son in a mine and has coin to spare?"

Again he shakes his head, regretting is poor choice a words.

"Forgive me, that was a tasteless joke. Must be the ale talking. But I could really use a job that requires someone to work metal and test their metal against others."

Abelard comes over, and grabs a seat at the table. There are no other guests anyways. He poors himself a mug of ale, and drinks deep.

You know ... I weren't a fighting man in my younger days. It's sort of expected, you know? People seem to think bartenders are retired adventurers, but I don't think that's true. I was a farmhand, inherited a bit of gold from my dad, and bought this place.

But I do know my rumors. They say the tribes are restles. Don't know where that leaves us all, but I'm sure there'll be work aplenty for any capable swordarm.

[Coniferous]

Nathanial brushes crumbs from his beard no replaces the bread on the table. After a swig of ale to wet his lips and force the food down his throat more quickly, he looks at the innkeeper with a wry smile.

"Let them think you fought in a bygone war, or slaughtered raiders by the dozens. People don't cause trouble when they know a misstep has dire consequences."

After another mouthful of ale, he continues:

"My folks were farmers. It's a hard, honest living. Do you ever miss it? The fields? The harvest? 'Spose it not the kind of work you want as you age; good work for youngster though. It keeps them grounded."

Nathanial begins to tap on his mug restlessly, with a wistful look.

"If you've got kids, grandkids, young ones to look after, get them working young. Don't let them end up in my line of work. It's no way for a person to live."

He hastily downs another mug of ale, then a second, between bites of bread he's begun to attack with a ravenous zeal.

"Excellent bread by the way. Fantastic."

After a short pause for thought, he asks:

"You said the tribes were meeting. Whereabouts?"

[Phyzor]

Disappointed Smelkie heads back to the Inn, apparently he isn't getting what he came for here... The young Halfling had big hopes on earning something here. Only thing he has now is a bed and a meal. Perhaps the sheriff is right he figures as he opens the door of the Inn.

It sounded more rewarding that it was, Smelkie didn't know. But hey what can you expect from the plainpeople ;)

He heads over to the table and takes a seat again. Please poor me another one he says. I can use one, since I feel used.
I'm heading back to my people on the plains tomorrow.
He takes some cheese and stares at the ceiling.

[Kaptin Keen]

But maybe it was this, or a cavalry charge?

Also, you shouldn't expect me to reward every decision with gold - or even worse, with magic. A lot of what I do centers on building the world and the story. Now you know the Mountainshaders. Maybe that will become important later on.


At a table, Abelard and the newcomer are still busy drinking and eating. Smelkie joins them - if for no better reason, then because that's where the beer is.

[Coniferous]

Nathanial pours the halfling a mug with pat on the back while waiting for the innkeeper's response.

[Kaptin Keen]

I wanted to let Smelkie answer that - because he knows, and the innkeeper has no idea.

[Phyzor]

The tribes are meeting at the Moot, it's a peacefull gathering that occurs at times. It could take years for the next one to happen. You are free to join me on my travels, it's safer than travelling alone after all.
Smelkie stands up Thanks for the drink! Could you fix me some proviant for my journey back to my tribe Abe? I`m heading for bed. Have a good night.

He heads up the stairs to his room. Locking the door if possible. Putting a knife under his pillow, just in case..

[Kaptin Keen]

The next morning, Nathanial and Smelkie emerge from their rooms at about the same time. Abelard has more excellent bread, fresh coffee, and a bit of fruit - a slight bit of luxury on the plains, where fruit trees are kinda rare.

The two eventually make their way back out of town, the sun still low in the sky, the morning fresh. It's late spring, still very slightly nippy in the morning, but in just a few hours the heat will be merciless.

As you walk, it turns out you're basically both on your way to the same destination - The Moot. You don't actually know how to get there. It's south west of Mountainshade, you know that, but ... someone in the caravan must have known where they were going, exactly, but you dont.

So you move south west, hoping to meet other travellers, or just pick up the trail. Hundreds - if not thousands - are going to The Moot, so it shouldn't be too hard.

As evening falls, you spot a campfire, clearly visible in the flat terrain. Drawing near, you see another young halfling, roasting a hare over the fire, a big dog sleeping happily on the side, it's feet twitching as it dreams - possibly reliving catching the hare.

[Coniferous]

Upon seeing the camp fire Nathanial slows his pace. Similar situations have led to ambushes in the past. Several of them he had led. Hell, he was the 'man by the fire' at least twice. In reviewing the scene he couldn't help thinking the dog was a nice touch and made a mental note. He glances around cautiously and whispers to his new traveling partner:

"Friend of yours?"

Are there any places near by that would make good hiding spots?

Thought it's not a set up, Nathanial doesn't know that, so spot and listen checks below.

Spot: [roll0]

Listen: [roll1]

[Coniferous]

Not sure what I did wrong there.

Spot: [roll0]

Listen: [roll1]

[Phyzor]

No, I have never seems him before. He must be on his way to the Moot and can lead us the way. With that said he walks in the direction of the campfire.

HEY THERE STRANGER, AREYOU ON THE WAY TO THE MOOT?!

[Kaptin Keen]

The landscape is largely equal in terms of hiding spots: Tall grass everywhere could potentially hide an army. If Nathanial should want to remain unseen - for a potential counter-ambush - it's easy to duck low, and move off to the side.


A 1 on the spot rolls doesn't really tell you anything. The low sun is in your eyes, and all you can really see is the shadow of a person at the camp fire.

Listen is better: The person at the fire is whistling a little tune, going about the process of preparing dinner. You also hear the 'hoot-hoot' of some fowl or other, of to the side somewhere.

[Coniferous]

Nathanial uses his right hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The tall grass could hide many dangers but he heard no grumbling, nor the clanking or whispers of metal-on-metal friction, all signs of weapons at the ready. Chances would be better near the fire anyway. His human eyes lacked the aptitude of the dark that many other races held. Having the light on his back would keep enemies in his vision without being blinded by the light himself.

With his blackened left hand resting on the pommel of his sword, Nathanial steps in line and follows two paces behind his colleague.

[Frendle]

Glenn pricks up his ears at the sound of the holler. "That depends, are you fer or against it?"
he calls out with a chuckle.
"And who am I speaking to?"

Sam picks up his head lazily, looking to his master for a sign of concern.


To see if he can tell where, how many etc.
1d20+5

[Phyzor]

I'm totally pro-Moot! Me and my friend are looking to get there, you might know where it is dear sir? My name is Smelkie and this is Nathanial. Smelkie pokes him Hey don't be shy and introduce yourself

[Coniferous]

Nathanial is obviously a little taken-aback at his prompt for a self-introduction. His hand still resting on his pommel, with his eyes shifting around for potential ambushers, he cracks a less than convincing smile and says:

"Pleasure to meet you, sir."

After a coulpe seconds of pause and observation, he relaxes and begins to pay more attention to the man at the fire pit.

"Odd place to camp out, don't you think?"

With a much more genuine smile, he motions to the dog by the fire with his right hand.

"Ah, but I see you have a dutiful guard."

[Kaptin Keen]

The food sizzling above the fire continues to spread the enchanted smell of roast rabbit, baked potatoes and wild onions. The dog, initially curious to see new people by the fire quickly loses interest again, chosing to prioritize lasing in the warmth over paying attention.

The fire crackles.

The sun slowly sinks towards the horizon.

Off somewhere to the west, a bird hoots again.

[Phyzor]

Huh, is that a dog.. Smelkie seems a little startled never noticing the dog before.

Does it bite? He raises his awareness by seeing the dog, but when Sam rests his head back on the ground to chill Smelkie gets the feeling it's ok.

Still curious he asks: What is he doing here?

[Kaptin Keen]

At this point, the 'bird hoots' are finally replaced by a more verbal kind of signal communication. An annoyingly screetchy voice cries out:

GET 'EM!!!!

And the very least trustworthy of creatures - plains goblins - burst from the tall grass. In moments, the air is thick with projectiles as your attackers hurl an impressive array of more or less improvised ranged weaponry towards you. To one side, a goblin with a vultures skull strapped to his head does a strange little dance. To the other, a goblin naked except for a loincloth bellows in hysterical rage, and charges towards you swinging an impressively large axe - his small size taken into account - in deadly arcs around himself.


Honestly, birds don't hoot at sunset. Never trust a hooting bird, actually. The goblins auto-win initiative - but you're not surprised, because Sam the dog actually rolled well on his listen.

Oh and don't worry. I rolled for you, but goblins are sneaky, and you rolled impressively poorly.

Random missiles:
Attack: [roll0]
Attack: [roll1]
Attack: [roll2]
Attack: [roll3]
Attack: [roll4]

Damage, in case anyone actually hits:
Damage: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]
Damage: [roll8]
Damage: [roll9]

Smelkie is hit, and I believe that's the only roll good enough to do damage.

The dancy guy moves towards Glenn, trying to touch him:
Attack: [roll10] vs Touch
Fort save to resist being Fatigued.

The shouty guy charges Nathanial:
Attack: [roll11]
Damage: [roll12]


Just before goblins pour forth like ants from the grass, Sam raises his head, and barks in warning.

[Frendle]

The Sturdy Halfling grabs his spear and, after ordering Sam to attack the dancing Goblin, takes a poke at it. Keeping a wary eye out for the crazy Goblin with the axe. Goblins are not to be underestimated at any time, but especially ones who appear to be crazier than normal.

“It seems your arrival could not have been better timed, hopefully it was not my dinner that attracted them here.”



Glenn:
Move Action - draw spear
Standard - Attack dancing goblin [roll0] Damage [roll1]

Sam:
Move - move to dancing Goblin
Standard - Attack [roll2] Damage [roll]1d6+3[roll]

If bite hits, then Sam will attempt a trip. [roll3]

[Kaptin Keen]

Those goblins that have moved into the camp - the shaman (dancing guy) and chief (shouty guy) - can easily be flanked, if you so desire.

I should also point out that, while it is of debatable prudence to charge the ranged guys - since they can also easily flank if you do - they do not currently have melee weapons equipped.

[Phyzor]

I hope it wasn't you that lured us into this trap he responds to Glenn

Still unsure wheter the stranger is in the complot Smelkie believes that the best chances on survival are first get the goblin of Nathanial. The touching goblin might as well give the stranger a boost of somekind.

In that case Smelkie better not stand alone and have the backup of a sword next to him.

He gets out his cross bow and fires a bolt at the goblin that attacks Nathanial.

[roll0]
[roll1]

After his shot he lowers himself into the tall grass making himself harder to hit.

[Coniferous]

Seemingly more irritated than startled, Nathanial rolls his eyes. He closes the distance with the closest goblin, drawing his weapon as he steps. Both hands gripping the sword firmly, he torques his hips to bring a powerful blow down on his adversary.

If the one goblin is dropped by the crossbow shot, Nathanial moves to the next closest enemy. Drawing a weapon is a free action combined with a move action, if you have a +1 BAB, which will allow me to draw the weapon, close the distance and attack.

Dropping 1 point into power attack, giving me a +3 to attack instead of +4. It allows me to add +2 to my damage, though, so I'll have a +6 to damage.

Attack: [roll0]

Damage: [roll1]

[Kaptin Keen]

The goblins - barely missing the chance of a surprise attack - do their darndest to cut down their prey quickly. And fail rather miserably.

In return, the three of you bite back. Smelkie and Nathanial focus the angry, shouting goblin with the axe. Smelkie tags the goblin - then Nathanials big sword cleaves the poor guy straight down the middle, in twin symmetrical parts. He falls, stone cold dead, without further ado.

Glenn, however, misses his mark.

That leaves the dancing goblin - most likely some sort of shaman - and the guys on the perimeter firing projectiles. Anything they can find really, undersized daggers, sharp rocks, old forks.

The shaman, clearly startled by Nathanials powerful swing, focuses him - doing another little dance, pointing at him and unleashing a dazzling display of bright light and weird cacophony.

The remaining five goblins charge in, curved daggers and other wicked pointy bits gleaming in their fists.


Ok ... first off: The camp is in a small clearing in the grass, so you can't duck into it without going towards the goblins - which is ill adviced. So I'm discounting that part.

Now, the goblins try to move so as to flank each of you. Meaning they all get a decent chance to hit. 2 guys go for Nathanial and Glenn, one for Smelkie. The shaman moves to give this last guy a flanking bonus too.

So:

Nathanial:
Attack 1: [roll0]
Attack 2:[roll1]
Damage 1: [roll2]
Damage 2: [roll3]

Nathanial also needs to roll a will save vs. 12 or lose his next action.

Glenn:
Attack 1: [roll4]
Attack 2: [roll5]
Damage 1: [roll6]
Damage 2: [roll7]

Smelkie:
Attack 1: [roll8]
Damage: [roll9]

[Phyzor]

Seeing Nathanial slice through the goblin surely impresses Smelkie... a lot. So much he gets a little bit distracted from combat.
Glad he has him as a travelcompanion, but the distraction makes him a bit off guard. When the charging goblin comes closer he is too late to react.

AARGH! When he is hit, blood is visible.

Noting his positioning is off he shifts to the side getting a better aim at the goblin that just hit him. Retaliation time he thinks while he loads a new bolt.

1d20+5
[roll0]

[Frendle]

Glenn winces and yelps a bit from the two attacks, Sam looks at him with some concern, cocking his head. Glenn smiles at his companion, "It's ok, nothing a little magic won't cure."

Then both turn back to the Dancing Goblin with determination, if not a great amount of skill. "Move a little that was boy." Glenn directs Sam into a flanking position as he shifts his position as well.



both take 5 foot steps to flank the Goblin, hoprfully.

GLenn Attack - [roll0] (+2 more if able to flank) Damage [roll1]


Sam Attack - [roll2] (+2 more if able to flank) Damage [roll3] Trip Attack if he scores a hit with bite. [roll4]

[Kaptin Keen]

Nathanial quickly sizes up the situation. Sometimes being surrounded has it's perks: By taking a step backwards, he can get a spell off against three of the goblins, without hitting anyone else.


Nathanial takes a 5' step, and casts Colorspray. I think his save DC is 14?

Save goblin 1: [roll0]
Save goblin 2: [roll1]
Save goblin 3: [roll2]

I will need to double post, since this post affects how many goblins can attack.

[Kaptin Keen]

A flash of colors and light floods the three goblins. One uses his hand to cover his eyes in time - the other two react to Nathanials sudden movement by focussing on him. They stare right into the Colorspray, and and knocked out cold.

That leaves one goblin for each party member. They look remarkably unsure of the wisdom ot this whole plan - it was honestly much more to their liking when they were ambushing just one guy.


Goblin 1+2 fight defensively, giving them a small bonus to their paltry AC.
Attack goblin 1: [roll0] vs. Nathanial
Attack goblin 2: [roll1] vs. Glenn


The shaman takes a step backwards, holds up his staff defensively, and says:

... uh, hello? Would you consider a fortune telling in trade for our lives? Once in a lifetime bargain, only for you!

[Kaptin Keen]

Glenn and Smelkie both miss their targets. Sam the dog however lets out an impressive snarl, and tears out one goblins throat in a spray of blood and gore, and a half choked goblin scream.

[Coniferous]

Nathanial keeps to his position, his sword in hand, not moving. With a scoff he says "Every beggar from here to sea offers fortune telling for one silver or a mug of ale. It's hardly worth your life."

[GravityEmblem]

Lénwè walks through the grass when he sees, to his astonishment, a burly man threatening an Orc, who appears to be a Mage of some sort. He dashes in with his familiar, Patricia, close at hand.
"Whoa, what's happening!?" he cries.

[Kaptin Keen]

But, noble sir, my death has to be worth even less to you, right? Come on, we're all ...
um ... beings, right? We all make mistakes. So, fortune! Yes?

At this point in the conversation, yet another traveller bursts into the camp - clearly this place sees quite a lot of traffic.

The goblin shaman leans closer to Nathanial, and whispers, conspiratorially: How about this guy? You wanna fight someone, fight him - we'll help! He smiles. It's unclear whether he's trying to be funny.

[Frendle]

Glenn lifts his spear to his shoulder, “Sam, down.” The huge dog growls once more for good measure at the Goblin Shaman and sits on his haunches.

“Well, if we are negotiating, you don’t mind if I check on these fellas do you?”

Glenn approaches the fallen Goblins and checks for signs of life. “I’d prefer a fortune told to more throats ripped out if it’s ok with you guys.” Glenn looks at the others hopefully.

[GravityEmblem]

Lenwe takes a breath. Ok, I'm not here to fight. But what is going on here?!

[Kaptin Keen]

When no one else speaks, the goblin shaman grabs the chance:

Well, sir ... we've had a bit of a misunderstanding. Fortunately, casualties have been kept to a minimum, and um, the situation is under control. I was just offering these gentlemen a reading of their future. As a um, peace offering.

How about you sir - would you like to know what the future holds for you?

He capers about for a moment, producing a vial containing some sort of viscous liquid, and a pouch of - you soon see - reddish powder.

[GravityEmblem]

"I would prefer to know the procedure, first," I say suspiciously.

[Kaptin Keen]

The goblin looks at you, as if confused you can possibly not know. He holds up the powder, wiggles it:

You toss the powder on the flame, and inhale the smoke.

Then he holds up the vial, waggles it:

Then you drink the liquid.

He shrugs.

And then you see the future. Proven method. Time honored tradition.

Trust me!


Just so you know: He means himself, not you. Your primitive non-goblin mind would propably shatter at the revelations of time and space :p

[GravityEmblem]

"Eh, sure. Personally I find Divination to be a flighty and unreliable form of magic, but go ahead."

[Kaptin Keen]

There are two forms of divination, human.

There's the form where the magic comes from you, and I agree: It's barely worth the effort.

Bu then ... there's the form where you make yourself receptive to the magic of the deep powers, the darkness below and hidden secrets. Now that's a whole different sack of potatoes.

He begins the ritual. As described, he tosses a pinch of powder on the fire. It flashes purple and green, and emits a suspiciously colored smoke - suspiciously scented too, if you dare inhale the stuff.

As his eyes go wide, then hazy, he takes a sip from the small vial. He dances about a little, doing chants and what not, then collapses in the grass.

As he lies there, a voice issues from his mouth. It ... does not sound like his voice.

You shall come upon the three: The Vulture, the Coyote, and the Wildkyn. You shall hear true their voices, and march to their drums. You shall stand at the crux of the wild and the wrought, and you shall hold fate within your hands. And you shall ...

At this point, either the drugs start wearing off - or the little blighter runs out of imagination. We may never know. Regardless, he goes on, in his own voice.:

Wait, is that a dragon? I've never seen a dragon before. Well, technically I still havent. He opens his eyes, and looks at you. Wow - there's a dragon in your future.

Then his eyes unfocus, and he falls asleep.

[GravityEmblem]

I stare at him, bemused. "Lovely," I say. Then, I turn to the rest of the group. "I suppose some introductions are in order. My name is Lénwè Strollbrook. Well, technically, my name's Jameson, but I prefer Lénwè. Oh, and this is my Familiar, Patricia." I tickle her under the chin, and she squeaks, then starts flying around my head. "I'm a wandering mage. So, how about you?"

[Coniferous]

With a quick glance at the inebriated goblin fortune teller, Nathanial says "Might I suggest introductions be made in the absence of those who would strike us in the dark, while we sleep?"

Considering the fight won, Nathanial replaces his sword in it's sheath, after wiping down the blade with a rag. Still unsure of his current situation, however, he allows his hand to gravitate to the knife stored at the small of his back, positioning his body to make the prolonged gesture more natural.

[Kaptin Keen]

With the shaman out cold, the remaining goblins shuffle about a bit. It's really rather an awkward moment - unless you're merrily sleeping it off - but they remove their fallen, and then make their own camp sort of just to the side of yours. The shaman stays sleeping by your fireside, unless you quite insistently wake him.

[Frendle]

Glenn smiles at the scene before him, “Well now, this is more like it. Better to live with an uneasy truce, than the alternative.”

Then he turns to the non-goblins and introduces himself, “I am Glenn, and this fellow here,” he reaches out his hand and scratches the large dog’s head, “is Sam.”

“I’m heading to the moot, how about you folks. I imagine most folks wandering around out here are, but no need to make assumptions when you can ask instead.” Glenn continues, seemingly with no concern for discussing his affairs in front of these former enemies.


Then before waiting for an answer, “You folks are welcome to share my fire if you wish, though I suggest we not all fall asleep at once.” he nods over to the goblins.

[Phyzor]

Considering his situation Smelkie is glad the fight is over. Failing to respond quickly he watches the shaman unfold his ritual and hears his predictions.
A dragon... hmmm the shivers run up his painful spine. He has never seen a dragon, but stories tell these creatures are immense.

Smelkie is not to happy about the goblins, that hurt him so bad, setting up camp next to them. Can't we find another spot to camp or get rid of these creatures, he proposes. They injured me quite badly and I need the rest to heal. I don't trust them, since they already ambushed us before.
Then an imaginary exclamation mark appears above his head. Hey, why don't we tie up the shaman, he seems to be their leader. I bet they wont hurt us as long as we constrain him.

He holds his crossbow ready the whole time in distrust.

[Kaptin Keen]

The shaman is out cold. You can tie him up no problem - but you're pretty sure he's currently up to precisely zero mischief.

[Kaptin Keen]

You all wake the next morning - alive. No nightly stabbing has taken place.

The shaman is very thoroughly hung over, and proceeds to be violently sick for what seems like an inordinately long time. Eventually, the surviving goblins gather him up, and carry him.

Among you, Glenn alone seems to know the way. Southwest, he explains, then straight west once we hit the river.

As you start walking, you notice the shaman weakly giving his fellow greenskins similar instructions. Apparently, they too are headed for the moot.

It's still a few days of travel. The uneasy truce with the goblins persist. They make camp near you - feeling perhaps that you're unlikely to counter-ambush them, and that there is some added safety in numbers, even if those numbers were people you tried to kill just the other day.

Eventually, as you follow the river west, the mesas come into view. There are lots of them, rising from drier, less fertile land, as the river veers off to the south, and the land rises. Glenn explains to you that the Moot is among the three tallest mesas - called the Guardians.

And so, on fine autumn day, you cross the final ridge, and the Moot lies before you.

You frankly are not prepared for the number of people present. All of you from small tribes or communities, you struggle for numbers, going .. there must be hundreds, no thousands .. then realising even thousands doesn't do it real justice. There might be as many as ten thousand beings of assorted race and breed present - it feels like more people than are on the entirety of the plains.

There are stalls with food and drink, wrestling matches, blood fights, dog fights, [male adult chicken] fights. There is gambling, ladies of negotiable virtue, vendors of arms and armor, jewelry, trinkets of dubious magical providence. You see an ogre. You see fire dancers, jugglers, acrobats. There is song and music.

And thus far, you still have no idea what the Moot is really about. You do get a ... vibe, however. Something martial, like a bar just before a fight.

Then, as the sun is setting, a sudden hush falls over the otherwise loud crowd. People point, and whisper:

Atop each of the three mesas is a creature, in silhouette against the red sky: A Vulture, wings spread. A Coyote, howling. And a third, half tree, half humanoid - the Wyldkin.

As the sun sets and darkness falls, the three disappear. Someone, somewhere, begins pounding drums. Soon, a chant and clapping picks up. Warriors jump and shout.


Long introductory text. I'm propably being annoyingly vague on what's going on here, but for now just ... gamble some money, drink some firewine, wrestle, womanize (manize if that's your game), do whatever. Hopefully, all shall make sense soon =)

[GravityEmblem]

Lenwe keeps to himself and quietly studies his Spellbook.
For my spells, I pick...well, the same ones I picked for the previous day. I didn't actually get to cast them, you see.

[Frendle]

After claiming a spot to set up camp, if it could be called that, Glenn whistles to Sam. To the others, "I am going to walk about and see what there is to see here."

He heads down through the Moot, trying to make his way toward the center, keeping a lookout for distinctive tents as he goes so that he can find his way back.

All the while he keeps his ears open for any interesting rumors or goings on.

Eventually he looks for a food tent, which perhaps serves Ale....



Random rolls in case they are needed.

[roll0] Gather Information

[roll1] Gather Information



[roll2] Spot

[roll3] Spot



[roll4] Listen

[roll5] Listen

[Kaptin Keen]

A walk through camp - especially if one is paying attention - can be most informative.

For one thing, tensions are high. There are tribes of centaur and gnolls that pick fights and get on everybody's nerves. Tribes of orcs and goblins that no one trusts. And among the human tribes (the most numerous here) are old rivalries that simmer just beneath the surface.

All in all, everyone kinda-sorta respects the peace, but it's a fragile thing.

At least three times, Glenn spots an old human, white hair and wrinkled skin. He seems very old, but moves as a younger man. And he always seems to be speaking with some tribal leader or champion. Once, he passes a dark skinned woman, and a look passes between them - a nod, an unspoken communication.

On his little trip, Glenn also spots the major camps. Each race tends to stick to their own, for better or worse - so various gnoll tribe camp to the east, orc and goblins west, humans and halflings south, and so on. Each camp holds many tribes, and there is so rivalry evident about what tribe is the most important.

One interesting thing is the harn tribes. As mentioned, harn are ogre size humanoids, knuckle walkers (like gorillas), generally peaceful, immensely strong. Where everyone else seems tense, on edge, sort of spoiling for a fight, the harn just hang out, make music, eat and drink.

Note: You rolled well on gather information, but there isn't much to learn. Yet. Unless you want to be more specific, sneak up on someone, listen in. Your call.

[Frendle]

Glenn smiles as he walks about. “This is exciting, though I hope everyone keeps the peace. I imagine that won’t last long.”

When he comes across the Harns Glenn pauses for a moment, the smell of cooking fires makes his stomach growl. He likes the looks of these folk, maybe they are a good place to learn…. Something. Knowledge comes on its own, not when whistled for.
He looks down at Sam, “Well boy, what do you think? Seems like maybe we can get something to eat here.”

Sam wags his tail and gives an excited bark. Glenn knows all he really heard in that sentence was “eat”

Glenn walks toward the Harn camp and looks about to see if there is a central gathering/eating area. He heads there. Glenn introduces himself and Sam, “Hello, My name id Glenn Hemfoot and this is Sam. I was wandering about the Moot for a look see, and noticed you folks. Your group seems so much less… agitated then the others, I thought I would come over and say hi!”

Glenn smiles broadly and waits to be invited to join them before sitting down.

[Kaptin Keen]

One thing Glenn quickly learns is that, while friendly and peaceful, the harn are also slow and ... not the brightest. Also, they're herbivores. The food is excellent though, fresh, tasty and crunchy. It feels like a waste of time - nothing to be learned here - but then Glenn hears two of the harn talking to each other. The essense of their conversation boils down to the fact that a human visited their camp, and talked at some length to the tribe leaders about the human town of Mountainshade. It's not entirely clear what the actual point or outcome of that conversation was, but you get the impression it wasn't about a friendship parade.

[Phyzor]

Smelkie is impressed by the scale of this gathering.. He has never seen so many individuals together at once. Last time he did well on gambling, but this time it's food and a place to sleep that's on mind.

Knowing he is safe sticking with his group of travelers he puts up camp close to Glenn. I'll be sleeping with you guys as well if you don't mind.
When he is done he follows Glenn's example and walks around the Moot, looking for his tribe and trying to get a sense what the gathering is about. Trying to pick up a good meal along the way.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Kaptin Keen]

Tribes don't come to the moot in their entirety - they just send a few. You are the 'few' from your tribe.

That tells you something of the size of the moot. There are thousands present. The total population of the plains is quite huge indeed.


Smelkie walks around the moot, listening for any good bits of gossip. He gets lots and lots of gossip, but nothing really interesting. It seems most are as much in the dark about the purpose of the moot as Smelkie is.

He does however spot a small group of halfling trappers, just getting ready to roast some rabbit over their fire. For the price of a good tale, they are willing to share with another halfling.

[Phyzor]

Good food, that's what gets Smelkie's heart beat faster. He heads over to the Halfling trappers. Hey guys, that looks good! It reminds me of that one time I ended up running naked being chased by a watchdog. He tell them a story involving sneaking in, taking a bad, a very interesting female, an angry father and a very big watchdog. He shows them a scar on his butt 'proving' his story.

When he's all done he heads back to his fellow travelers to get a good nights rest.

[Kaptin Keen]

The halfling trappers, amused by Smelkie's antics, tell their own tales of hunts gone wrong, prey downed or narrowly escaped, of being drunk and disorderly in the human settlements, and more.

The food is excellent, spit roast rabbit, and wild potatoes and onions wrapped in leaves and cooked in the fire.

At last, one of the trappers asks: Say ... did you see that old guy? He was here earlier, white haired guy, leaning on a staff. He talked about how the human hunters and farmers expand, and push our prey away from their usual habitats.

Don't know the guy, but he isn't wrong.

Later that evening - after everyone returns to camp - and old man approaches. White hair, wrinkly, leaning on his staff. He unfolds a pouch, stuffs his pipe. Lights it, and between puffs of smoke asks:

Hello, young ones. Room for another at yer fire?

[Phyzor]

Yeah sure, what brings you here old man? My name is Smelkie.

[Kaptin Keen]

The old guy small talks for a long time - about this and that, the weather, where everyone is from, all the usual.

It's a good while, before he starts talking about the river Eising, which flows past Mountainshade:

Did you know - the industry of that human village, whether it be making soap or curing leather, or even just ... you know, sanitation ...
causes sickness for the tribes that live furthe along the river?

Hard to do anything about, really, but the worst pollution is from the mine at Ambercreek. Some sort of poison seeps from the ore and scree. Someone should close that mine. By force, if necessary. Don't you agree?

[Phyzor]

No, I did not know that. To be honest I do not know any tribes that live alongside the river. That is not a place I have been yet.
Why does it needs to be closed by force, if it is polluting the people's drinking water, then it is obvious mining should stop...

[Kaptin Keen]

Because the people of Mointainshade are unwilling to close it otherwise. They do not care about the poisoned water, or the people suffering downstream.

[Phyzor]

Well that's harsh! People can die because of that. I agree it should be stopped, by force if needed, in case the people of Mountainshade do not respond to reason.

[Kaptin Keen]

I need someone to go there - scounting. Find their numbers and defences. In case we need to use force. And maybe see how willing they are to change their ways.

[Phyzor]

Hey, I can do that! Can you give me directions to where the mine is located? May I ask what your interested in this is?


1d20+5

[Phyzor]

Want me te reroll, see that probably the questionmark screw up the roll

[Kaptin Keen]

No need. I have dice on my table. You rolled 15+5=20. His obvious intentions are ... well, obvious: He wants the place scouted, in preparation for an attack, if necessary.

His deeper motives are harder. He clearly wants to protect nature and the people of the plains - but beyond that, you don't know.