Dobrogea E6 IC

[Eladrinblade]

http://i63.tinypic.com/2uy4shl.jpg

Dobrogea

The world you live in is known as All-Terra in the common tongue shared by most humans of the known world. Most of the known world is a landmass called Erosa, bordered on the west by an endless ocean, and on the south by a warm sea. Across the sea to the south, and past it to the southeast, is a land of hot deserts that are mostly seen as dangerous and hostile, and in which Erosans have not heavily tread. To the east is an endless dry steppe home to massive herds of beasts and endless hordes of barbarians. The north of Erosa is vast cold taiga forests, homeland of the orcs. Beyond that, it is rumored, lies an endless frozen wasteland. This is, of course, common knowledge among the literate population of Erosa, who may be a minority. Most folks don't know much beyond their home village or city, and certainly haven't ventured far from it.

Erosa itself is a land of erratic coastlines, mountain ranges, untamed forests and wetlands, and dozens of medieval kingdoms. The winters are cold and snowy, except around the Crimson Sea to the south, where they are cool and rainy. The various races often, but not always, separate themselves by geography; smaller races usually share the territory of larger races, whether wanted or not. The humans of Erosa stick to plains, coasts, and river valleys, and most of them live in settled villages and cities. They have fair skin that gets darker the farther south or east one travels.

The wilds of Erosa are anywhere outside the walls of men or the reach of their spears, and are teeming with beasts and other creatures, worst of all dragons, who, more than any other, have prompted the people of Erosa to dig down as often as build up. There was once an empire that stretched across the known world, but it eventually grew corrupt and degenerate, which made it weak and disunited, and so fell to invasion from a massive horde of orcs from the north and other barbarians, led by the legendary "Devil Dragon", who claimed the seat of the empire, known now as the "Holy City" because it held the original centers of the major human religions, as it's domain. After the collapse of the empire, humanity dissolved into countless small realms during the following Dark Age, while the orcs and dragons and various other beasts rampaged unopposed by any great power. The empire fell over a thousand years ago. The orcs and beasts outside the domain of the dragon had to disperse, as their main source of consumption could no longer support their numbers. The Devil Dragon would occasionally wake and rampage around the continent for a few years, then fall back into slumber, well fed. In the meantime, civilization regrew.

The last few centuries have not been much easier. A great host from the deserts to the east invaded the lands along the crimson sea for a generation. These lands were retaken during the next generation as the invaders gradually withdrew. A generation later, a crusade was called by the dominant human religious power, the "Holy Triad" (the combination of the churches of Heironeous, Pelor, and St. Cuthbert) and it's various allies, to invade the lands of their invaders, to punish them. The remaining desert powers were crushed, though at great cost, and those lands could not be held. A great plague then swept across Erosa, wiping out many of the remaining populace. An inquisition arose to find and destroy the cause(s) of the plague, and in the hysteria, many innocent people were massacred. Meanwhile, the Devil Dragon of the Holy City razed and rampaged all but unopposed.

All of this left the human lands of Erosa mostly empty, so that beasts and evil folk multiplied and spread. The survivors became hard and capable people, and a culture of mercenaries and adventurers rose in the stead of the massive armies of the crowns and the gods. Recently, the Devil Dragon was finally slain, and a crusade was called to retake the Holy City from the dragon's now-unprotected armies of darkness. The desert lands are still recovering and currently pose no threat, so this "final" crusade is bringing hope to the masses that this age of darkness might finally pass. However, many evils still lurk entrenched in the lands of men, grown strong in the chaos.

In Dobrogea, a misty forested land in between two mountain ranges that holds allegiance to the Crown of Lenalia, a call for mercenaries has gone out. Trouble stirs in the mountains, and other monsters are returning to the land and growing bold. Since many of the people are off fighting in the crusade, the land is dangerously unprepared for an invasion. The Count of Dobrogea has sent word as far as he can, to those on their way to the crusade or those who have no interest in it, to come to his lands and fight for coin or land.

Sensing either a land in dire need of help, or an easy opportunity for wealth and status, or otherwise a lack of desire to travel the remaining few hundred leagues (as a bird flies) to the Holy City, a very dangerous journey in such a wild age, with summer fast fading, you have decided to take up the Count's call for help. Or perhaps you have reasons of your own.

[Eladrinblade]

Whether you sailed across the placid waters of the Dark Sea to the port city of Perpeta, or you were crossing overland through the kingdom of Lenalia, you heard the Count's call and chose to respond. You traveled northwest across the kingdom, up roads along river valleys, past as many ruined villages and overgrown farms and barely-manned damaged castles as not. You traveled with traders and tradesmen and fledgeling mercenaries, who, despite their suspicions of dangerous folk they didn't know, decided they'd rather pay casters and warriors a few copper bits a day to travel with them for protection than face the dangerous road alone.

Dobrogea lies upon the forested Lenalia Plateau, an uplifted section of land occupying the northeastern portion of Lenalia, between the Cloudspur Mounts of the east and the Tors of the north. Below the foothills of the Cloudspurs, along the bottom of the southern edge of the plateau, lies the deciduous Reachwood. The main road that connects Dobrogea to Perpeta runs through the middle of the Reachwood. In the middle of the Reachwood lies a lonely village, exactly one days travel from the southern edge of the forest and from the bottom of the Steps, the hills that mark the southern edge of the Lenalia Plateau. This village is Lamplight.

It is early autumn in the year 1237 DD. You and the group you are traveling with left an inn near the forest's southern edge that may as well been a fort for how well-defended it was. The sky is a clear light blue, broken only by sparse high clouds, and the air is crisp and cool and dry. The leaves have mostly changed, leaving the canopy looking like a wildfire frozen still, while the undergrowth has gone bare, leaving only the grey and white trunks of the trees to separate the canopy above from the somewhat leaf-littered forest floor, dotted with white stones and boulders. Rocky creeks cut through the lightly rolling hills of the forest here and there, breaking up the rustling monotony with a pleasing burble. Occasionally you pass by a long-collapsed conical sinkhole.

The entire journey has been uneventful, perhaps because the usual dangers of the road are leaving it alone in fear of the numerous mercenaries, of which you've encountered many. Most of those you've seen have been humans of mostly local stock, if possessing a different cultural bearing and garb than the people of the lands you're traveling through. Many, however, are positively not; you've seen some of every stripe you know and some you don't. Some were individuals or small bands, at least one was a large company that passed you by while you were camped, most were somewhere in between. Still, when you stop and think about it, all the mercenaries you've seen so far would only make up a small portion of a true army, while lacking it's cohesion and discipline. Depending on what exactly the Count is hiring you for, you may have your work cut out for you.

Your group reaches the village of Lamplight soon after dusk, with the western sky still a light blue and it's clouds a pleasant dull silver. The villages lies in a large clearing in the forest, the nearest trees being a solid spearcast from the village wall, which happens to be a pointy palisade at least twice a tall mans height. The wall curves around the village in what appears to be a large circle. Within that, you see a collection of timbered houses with steepled roofs, most of them at least twice as tall as the wall, with one near the center of the village that is perhaps three times taller. Some of the windows visible glow with candlelight. The village gate is two stout doors of wood beams that close together, under a wood-crenellated platform that defenders could stand on. A single lit glass lamp hangs from a metal sconce on the wall beside the gate, which throws warm light on the wall and the grass at the edge of the clearing, and could be seen from quite a ways down the road through the woods.

The group approaches the gate, weary from a long days walk, and eager to split ways for the night. For many in the group, Lamplight is their end destination. A guard calls out to the group, asking the questions you've come to expect anywhere you go. After a small back and forth by those closest to the gate, it opens and the group is allowed inside, mildly scrutinized by two flanking bored-looking guards in leather-plate under brown and dark blue surcoats, with metal helms, bushy beards, heavy wood shields and longswords.

You quickly see that the buildings have first floors of stone. The ground where people walk is hard packed dirt and gravel. It seems this village does not sleep early, judging by the amount of lights, though you don't hear much; just the occasional dog barking or donkey braying. A few people are out and about, though they don't appear to be hard at work. Near everyone in this region wears tunics and hose or skirts, with hood-less cloaks and steepled-hats being common accessories. You can smell a great variety of things as you walk, however; cooking meat and vegetables, wood smoke, hay, and some of the various less pleasant aromas that bless any village.

You have all been traveling in the same group for at least the day and have basic knowledge of each other. You aren't bound together yet, however. You may do what you wish, but don't leave the town; you're tired if nothing else. As you understand it, you are technically in Dobrogea now.

Your contact(s) in the church of St. Cuthbert told you that the templars and bounty hunters had reason to believe the necromancer fled to the port city of Perpeta, because a similar incident there resulted in the quarantine and torching of an entire walled slum district to contain it. It was not recent, and they are not pursuing this lead, as they believe the crusade to be of paramount importance. Traveling there, you heard the count's call. You noticed that the people heading for Dobrogea were cut from different cloth than those heading to the Holy City. If you were a necromancer, would you head towards the crusaders of the Triad? Or the remote and unguarded land filling with ne'er-do-wells?

It's not exactly a hard lead, of course, but your gut says this is your best bet, and if you ignore it, you're ignoring the only lead you have.

[Kaptin Keen]

Okoa digs into his pockets, and looks hopefully in his money pouch - despite knowing what he will find: Nothing. Every last silver spent. Still, weary bones and rumbling belly will not be denied, and Okoa isn't one easily deterred. Nor is he averse to working for his pay. He finds a likely looking in, enters, and scans the room - it never hurts to check who is armed, who looks like they're looking for a fight.

However, his business is with the proprietor of this, presumably, entirely adequate place.

Ho, barperson, he begins, immediately demonstrating his unfamiliarity with the barbarian dialect of the common tongue, I find myself penniless after many days on road. I would eat, and sleep, and wonder if maybe I work for pay, yes? Maybe you have firewoods to chop? Horses to tend?

Okoa smiles hopefully at the barman.

[Deadguy]

Alana lifted the collar of her cloak a bit higher to ward the chill of the coming evening. She moved through the street with a noble bearing, her long dress swishing against the gravel.

Upon seeing the first guard, she paused and asked him a poignant question. "Where would I find the Sheriff or Marshal of this berg?"

Despite her travel, her clothing was in pristine condition. There was no trace of road dust or mud to be seen, even on the hemming of her dress. Once she had received directions, Alana made her way toward where she might find the information she sought.

[haldhin]

Llaundeh watches as Okoa and Alana walk away to tend to their needs. Looking at the rest of the group, Llaundeh says, "Anybody else for sharing a room? I'm all for finding a clean bed and a hot meal."

He walks down the main street looking for a decent place to stay.

[Kvard51]

Llaundeh watches as Okoa and Alana walk away to tend to their needs. Looking at the rest of the group, Llaundeh says, "Anybody else for sharing a room? I'm all for finding a clean bed and a hot meal."

He walks down the main street looking for a decent place to stay.

I think I like the look of this place. A man might make some good things happen in a town like this... Chert looks around as he enters the gates, watching the party disperse. Hearing the elf ask a question, her turns and appraises him. I think his name is Llaundeh, if I heard correctly.
And I probably did, so... Lifting his hand towards him, he shakes his head in agreement. "Both sound welcome to me, friend Elf. I am Chert. Chert Rivenstone. Pleased to make your aquaintance.

[Blackhawk748]

Fin checked his pockets, making sure he hadnt forgot anything, and then led his donkey towards a nearby, decent looking inn. He was cold, tired and hungry, so food and booze sounded great.

[haldhin]

I think I like the look of this place. A man might make some good things happen in a town like this... Chert looks around as he enters the gates, watching the party disperse. Hearing the elf ask a question, her turns and appraises him. I think his name is Llaundeh, if I heard correctly.
And I probably did, so... Lifting his hand towards him, he shakes his head in agreement. "Both sound welcome to me, friend Elf. I am Chert. Chert Rivenstone. Pleased to make your aquaintance.

Llaundeh smiles and nods at Chert, returning the handshake. "Llaundeh of the Elves." He pauses, thinks for a moment, then continues, "Ah, my apologies, I am unused to formal naming conventions outside of my homeland. My given name is Llaundeh Of The Wild Birch Clan Which Grows Tall With Soaking Rain By The Brook That Winds North To The West Of The Sacred Oaken Temple. But please, do not feel obliged to use that. Even I find it... obnoxious."

He turns and points his thumb at a tavern, "I have detected the promising aroma of mutton coming from that establishment. It seems well lit, the crowd does not appear to be making unruly noises, and I haven't seen anyone thrown out yet. What do you think?"

[Kvard51]

Llaundeh smiles and nods at Chert, returning the handshake. "Llaundeh of the Elves." He pauses, thinks for a moment, then continues, "Ah, my apologies, I am unused to formal naming conventions outside of my homeland. My given name is Llaundeh Of The Wild Birch Clan Which Grows Tall With Soaking Rain By The Brook That Winds North To The West Of The Sacred Oaken Temple. But please, do not feel obliged to use that. Even I find it... obnoxious."

He turns and points his thumb at a tavern, "I have detected the promising aroma of mutton coming from that establishment. It seems well lit, the crowd does not appear to be making unruly noises, and I haven't seen anyone thrown out yet. What do you think?"
Chert's eyes widen in alarm as the Elf lists off his entire last name. His sigh of relief upon Llaundeh's statement that he needn't remember such a monstrosity is audible.

"Thankee, friend Elf. Llaundeh. I do not think I could have remembered that, much less used it.

As to the tavern of your choosing, it seems entirely to reputable. But as traveler's in a new town, perhaps we should welcome repute. With that, he turns and trudges towards the well-lighted tavern.

[Eladrinblade]

The search for an inn is a short one; "the" inn is one the buildings closest to the wall near the gate. It is a long building, attached to a stable, with a chimney belching smoke. It has a wooden sign hanging from the eave above the door, which reads "The Reachwood Den". You notice a noisy tavern just across the street; this establishment must be only an inn. You open the door and head inside, finding yourself in a common room with a fairly low ceiling that boasts a single hanging lamp which dimly lights the room. A hearth along one wall has a fire going, and is decorated with a metal rack upon which there are pots and a spit of roast. There is a small front desk across from you, which is unmanned; the innkeeper must be the man at the hearth stirring a pot. It smells good, whatever it is. There are two doors leading from the room, besides the one you came in, and the floor between you and the hearth boasts a few small tables with chairs.

One of these tables, the one furthest towards the corner in the dark, seats three men. Two sit hunched over the table, the man facing you is lounging back in his chair with his feet up on a fourth chair. They each wear unadorned gambesons and sport a motley assortment of peasant-tier armaments. They are unkempt and dirty from the road, by their appearance, and don't seem to come from good stock. The one facing you is sightly enough, but when he levels an expressionless stare at you, the other two turn to look, and you wish they hadn't; they must be brothers who sport a boar for a father. The three of them are all smaller than you, but not quite "small".
They all stare at you as you approach and speak to the innkeeper.

The innkeeper is a tall reed-thin man with a bushy unibrow, a small mustache, long combed-over dark brown disheveled hair, and a slightly wrinkled face that only looks good compared to the other men. He wears cheap wool clothes and a simple cloth apron, with his sleeves rolled up. "I'm afraid not, goodsir. I have a young stableboy who handles the wood and the horses, and I simply cannot afford to give food for free. You can sleep in the haystack in the stables, if you please. You might try speaking with the Marshall about food, or maybe the church. I wish you luck, and welcome you back if you ever have coin." He offers a small sympathetic half-smile.

The man lounging in the chair speaks, "Look lads, another no-bit outlander come to beg for the Count's scraps. Spend all your coin on that over-sized orc blade?"


The guard looks you up and down, one eyebrow raised. "The Marshall, my lady. Valdeau Marshwick, tall man, gray Cuthbert mustache, breastplate with a coat like ours, but with a white symbol on it. He ought to be at his home at the circle, if he's not making a round. Look for the building with ..." He goes on with a description that serves you well, as you find yourself there after a few minutes walk. The town seems peaceful; a few people are about and none seem worried

You knock on the door, which is promptly answered. A young, unsure looking man in a gambeson with a guard's surcoat opens the door a bit to see who it is, then opens it wide and waves you in. Another, somewhat older and larger man, similarly dressed, sits at a candle-lit round table eating dinner while looking in your direction. Another chair is scooted back and vacant, the third is occupied by a man who matches the description given to you. He is perhaps fifty winters old, with long graying hair, a serious face, and sharp eyes. He does indeed wear a breastplate, and his coat bears a white crescent whose ends point up. A big floppy dark-blue felt beret with a long white feather sits on the table near his plate, and a long well-crafted halberd leans against the wall to his side. Upon seeing you, he stands and offers a slight bow. "How might I help you, my lady?"


Your search for an inn & tavern is short, as both can be found right near the gate. In fact, they sit across the street from each other. On one side, a fairly large building with a stable, whose sign reads "The Reachwood Den", on the other, a noisy well-lit establishment with first-floor windows whose sign reads "Seven Drunken _nights"; the metal letters of the wooden sign seem to be missing a character.
Food and booze and lots of company, apparently, to one side, food and sleep to another. Standard PHB prices for either. If you followed Okoa into the inn, you can read his spoiler.


When in town, you can just say what you want to buy and spend the money without roleplay, if you don't want to do anything else. As a village, the sp limit is 200, but some things like alchemical items, special substances, and magic items may not be available, so just ask.

[Blackhawk748]

Finn leads his donkey into the stables of the Den and gives a few copper coins to the stableboy, heading inside with his pack saddle slung over his shoulder. He gets inside early enough to hear the exchange.

His brow creasing, Fin walks over to the large foreigner, "Hey, i think you dropped these." he says as he hands him 5 silver pieces with a sly wink to the big man.

[Kaptin Keen]

Orcblade?!

Okoa removes his sword from his back, and places it point down on the floor. He holds it affectionately, like a cellist might hold her instrument. He sits himself on a chair, hands slowly gliding along the visibly keen edge of the big sword.

This blade was forged by Kutone, of Hadrimar, in the year of the Striking Serpent.
It's core is moon metal, the blade itself astimian steel thrice tempered.

It was made for my forebear, Okutuko Anyago, and has passed from father to son since he last held it.
It fought in the battle of Seven Winds, on the plains before Ossokoma, and it was this sword that felled Kapungesh, the Mad Warlord.

The full lineage of this blade would take more time than we have this evening - suffice it to say that it is nobler company than you gentlemen are. It has killed orcs, and if you had even laid eyes on one, you'd know they favor axes.

In a fluid motion, Okoa rises and replaces the sword on his back.

Innkeeper, I thank you for your kindness, and will gladly bunk in the hay. I may yet find a way to pay for food and board, but for now, I am weary.

When Finn walks up, Okoa hesitates a moment. He cannot take the man's money - bit nor can he dismiss his kindness. He decides to take the coin, but pay it back the next morning. He gives his genuine thanks to Finn.

Okoa walkes out into the stables - half expecting the three goons to follow, in which case he looks for a less immediately lethal weapon than his sword.

Edit: updated with response to Finn.

[haldhin]

Llaundeh moves to follow Chert, but sees Okoa glancing back over his shoulder as he exits the inn. "A moment, Chert, one of the men we traveled with just exited that inn in a peculiar manner. Perhaps we should go over and introduce ourselves. If you are looking for some repute, I get the sense that some might be following him out that door at any moment."

[Kvard51]

Chert pulls up short as the elf lord speaks. "That isn't, necessarily,
the repute I sought. But let it not be said Chert Rivenstone abandoned a travel companion, no matter how little we actually companioned as we traveled, in a time of need. Lead on, friend elf."

[Deadguy]

Alana dipped her head slightly as she curtsied to the bowing man. "I am terribly sorry for interrupting your dinner, Marshal. I have just arrived in your fair town center and was overzealous in seeking you out without realization of the time of eve."

She stood back up and smoothed her dress once more. "I do not have terribly pressing matters to bring to your attention, but more questions regarding happenings of late in this domain. I have been tracking a rogue arcanist for quite some time and believe him to have come this direction to avoid the Crusaders. Have you experienced any disturbances of graves or living dead, of late?"

The woman's tone did not match the demure and prim appearance that she presented. It was determined and tenacious, with a hint of knowing a goodly amount about these dark subjects.

[Blackhawk748]

Finn hands a few coins to the Inn Keeper. "id like a room please, and dinner if you're serving"

[Eladrinblade]

During Okoa's impassioned speech, Chert and Llaundeh walk in behind Finn. The innkeeper and three ruffians simply watch with confused curiosity. The large man takes his exit after the innkeeper nods with respect, leaving the ruffians to exchange glances with the stern faces of Chert, Llaundeh, and Finn. They visibly settle and turn away, the "leader" audibly mumbling, "Sure lost his accent right quick."

The innkeeper gladly accepts your coins and shows you to a simple room on the second floor, which contains a single bed and a window with a view of the palisade around the back of the inn. The moon is bright enough that Finn can somewhat make out the room even in the dark, while Chert and Llaundeh have no problem whatsoever. The 2nd floor of the inn has a hallway which bisects the upper rooms and leads to a stairwell that opens up into the common room downstairs. You ready yourselves for bed and quickly fall asleep.

Okoa walks to the far end of the stables where there is a stall stacked high with hay. He digs himself into the back of the pile where it's dark and gets comfortable, noting with mild relief that the men from the common room did not follow him. He quickly falls asleep.

The Marshall shakes his head slightly at your apology, "It is no problem at all.", then listens to what you have to say.

"We've had hundreds of mercenaries and outlanders pour through in the last month. I'm certain that many were arcanists, judging by their garb and their absence of arms and armor while accompanied by others who had plenty. It might be that the person you are following was among them. We haven't had any such troubles here, as our dead are not quite so accessible. News from other communities has been unreliable lately, as many of them are holing up; there are few people on the roads."

He glances out the window by the door, his gaze hardening somewhat. "Dobrogea has little time to spend worrying about tombs, with the looming threat of orcs and banditry and wild beasts, so it may very well be that some necromancer is up to no good and we simply have no eyes with which to watch them." He turns back to you, "If you'll give me your name and tell me how to find you, I'll send you word if anything comes up; I certainly don't want outlaw necromancers on the loose."

Minor pleasantries are exchanged, and you head back to the inn, where you find a few rough-looking men in the common room by the hearth, and the others are nowhere to be found, so you get a room by yourself. Though you don't know it, yours is right next to the others.

You can go back to speak with the Marshal again tomorrow, if there was more you wanted to talk about. I'm assuming it's fairly obvious that you are a Jasidin, by your dress?


Each of you is asleep within an hour after dark; you are all fairly tired from a day on the road and the air is great for sleeping. Some time later, each of you bolts awake, catching the tail end of a scream. Even Llaundeh was still "asleep". You lay there for a second, trying to think, when you hear an angry shout from outside the inn near the palisade. A moment later, you can hear a dog barking.

[Kaptin Keen]

Okoa rolls himself out of the hay. For all the manyfold qualities of hay - which we shall not dwell upon long here, except to point out that they are manifold - it's is not the most conducive element for restful sleep. So after a day on the march, and a night in the hay, Okoa is furiously hungry, and poorly rested.

His first thought, perhaps indicative of either state, is: If someone is in trouble, perhaps there could be coin in it for me.

He sets off at a trot, intent on seeing what's up.

[Blackhawk748]

Fin sits up in bed, immediately awake. Once he confirms that it wasnt his imagination he grabs his staff, pulls on his clothes and runs downstairs.

[Deadguy]

Alana laid in the bed, restless after her evening prayers. She toyed with the locket as her mind wandered. Was she unable to sleep because of the discussion with the Marshal and lack of any further leads, or was it simply the lumpy mattress.

The scream gave her a start. She sat up and tucked the amulet away in her dress before heading toward the door. As Alana opened it, she could see others making their way outside as well. She followed behind her traveling companions at a measured but determined pace as they headed out the doors.

[Kvard51]

The shouting woke Chert from a dead sleep. He immediately grabbed his pack and ran to towards the sound. What could be causing this kind of ruckus in the middle of the night?

[haldhin]

Llaundeh opens his eyes and his hand darts over to grab his bow and quiver. He steps into his boots, strings his bow, then pulls the door open to run outside toward the commotion.

[Eladrinblade]

You spring up from the hay pile and wade through and out of it, ignoring the bits that stick to you, and carefully tread over to the stable doors that lead into the street. The few beasts in the room with you snicker and snort, worried. It is dark in here; you only have a few thin beams of light coming through the cracks of the doors, and one thin warm line at the other end of the stables coming under the door from the common room. You remember the layout, and are lifting the bar from the door in no time, but just before you do, you hear something quietly hustle past the door, disrupting the light coming in along the floor. You lift the bar and sit it aside. You can hear some commotion from upstairs in the inn; sounds like some of the patrons are waking up and responding. You push open the doors and stride outside into the pale moonlit streets.

The tavern across the street has gone quiet since you went to sleep, now only showing a dim glow through the windows. To your right, you can hear a man shouting a call to arms; the village gate, you think. Just after, a blast from a horn rends the air, which surely must have woken half the village from their sleep. Dogs begin barking in earnest throughout the village. The street is clear in both directions, though the thing which went past the door went to your left.

(The palisade is around the other side of the inn, to help you get your bearings)


Each of you scrambles out of bed and readies gear, though none of you wear armor too heavy to sleep in, so this only takes you a few quick moments. You can hear people in other rooms getting up. The sorcerer, elf, and gnome open their door and move down the dark hallway to the stairwell, passing the inquisitive priestess, who promptly follows behind them. Finn and Alana have to move fairly slow because they can't see ****, while Chert and Llaundhe can at least make out the hallway. Your own movements on the wood floor of the inn drown out much of the noise from outside, but you hear a man shout a call to arms, followed by the blowing of a horn which is all too loud and clear, followed by a chorus of dogs spread throughout the village.

You race down the stairwell to the common room, to find the innkeeper coming out of his room in bed dress and night cap, looking scared and confused, and the three angry ruffians rising from their bedrolls on the floor by the gently-burning hearth and arming themselves. "Hey, you lot! What's going on?!"

The front door is closed. The shout and the horn came from the village gate (out the door and to your right), you think, while the palisade is behind the inn on the opposite side from the door.

[Kaptin Keen]

... it went left? Ponders Okoa as he slings his weapon free.

He steps to follow - at a decent jog, but trying to be at least reasonably discreet.


Did you say you would roll stuff like spot and listen? I forget. I'ma roll them, and you can ignore them if you already did.
Listen: [roll0]
Spot: [roll1]

Okoa will try and follow who or whatever went past the stables. If the target has gone, he will run up the nearest wall to get a better view of the surroundings.

Oh and ... I kinda guess even a barbarian doesn't willingly sleep in armor, so I figure Okoa is bare-chested. But final say on that is yours. These are, after all, dangerous times =)

[Blackhawk748]

Finn ignores the three idiots on the floor and rushes outside and swings right, heading for the gate.

[Deadguy]

"Dark-eyed Lady, shed light to guide my path in this darkness and reveal it's mysteries." Alana prayed as she headed toward the doors slowly. It was obvious that she had physical limitations that prevented her from moving faster than a quick walk, although she maintained a poise that masked any limp. A flash of light erupted in her hand, her ring glowing like she held a torch in the palm of her hand.

As the call to arms could be heard at the gates and the dogs erupted with barking, she offered up another prayer. "Goddess, protect your bodily vessel to continue your works in this realm." Once the prayer had been completed, a translucent set of crimson chain armor adorned with skull and rose motifs encased her body.


Moving at 15 ft per round, so I'm assuming it'll take me close to twice as long to respond.

Casting Light and Mage Armor during those movements.

[Kvard51]

Chert takes the stairs 2 at a time. As he hits the common room floor, he sees the bully boys from earlier and sees an opportunity. Whispering words of magic, he forms the symbols to make the leader feel friendly toward him.

"Making our way to answer the alarm, friend. Will you show me the way to the muster point?"

Charm Person DC 15

[haldhin]

Llaundeh follows Chert down the stairs, eyes widening slightly at the sorcery employed by his companion. He also recognized several others from the journey as they made their way outside toward the commotion.