Hallowmere (IC)

[Ralasha]

The Village of Hallowmere, a small neatly walled town nestled in the unquiet swamp of the same name a few days ride from the Misty Mountains.

The swamp itself takes it's name from the unusually high number of ancient buildings long since reduced to rubble, many of which have strangely intact statues, usually facing away from a wall.

By day the bog is mostly quiet, disturbed only by the occasional rustle of foliage from some animal, the splashing of fish, or the rare undead meandering about aimlessly.

As to the undead, they are generally benign, bothering no one that does not approach the ancient ruins scattered about.

As to the village: It rests on the only larger section of land near the middle of the permanently flooded woods with small almost roads leading off from it in many directions. The only roads leading to or from it are those heading towards the plains to the west, and the mountain passes to the east.

Some traffic passes through the town, but most merchants choose to go around this haunted place, as the road nears some ruins in either direction, and it requires a certain level of courage to approach the accursed locations.

No-one lives outside of the walls, and with a scant population of a few hundred in total on a plot of land the size of some of the larger cities found elsewhere, no one really needs to. Towards one end of the island is the primary town, the wall there having a small gate into the graveyard. On the other end is the farmland, all rocks having long since been found and removed by previous generations. To the north of the fields is the gate which leads east, to the south is the gate which leads to the west road.

In the center of the town is a medium sized circular temple, it's walls having evenly spaced doors, which houses worship for all of the deities locally recognized, inside is a raised dais in the center of a circle of benches, around the walls outside of the benches are a series of alcoves holding small statuettes of the deities, with roughly three between each of the eight doors.
_______________________________________
Normally it is less quiet at night here in Hallowmere, The undead, normally quiet have been making more noise. And those that have arisen in the graveyard which normally meander and disturb no one have been louder, and sometimes bang on the gate.


Each of you:
The Sorcerer and local mage's apprentice, (because every town needs at least a hedge-wizard),
The Oracle (Enjoy the creepy visions) who probably gets more work than you really like (welcome to a tiny town with a cleric of max level 4),
and the Cleric (Sent here as backup because no churches trust undead to remain content).

Are asked to make your way to the temple (If not already there) because you are seen as the most competent of those not busy with day to day administration in this tiny town.

[drayen]

The young sorcerer made his way to the temple in the center of the town. His master bade him go and answer the summons there to discover the nature of the inquiry and what needs be done. Walking down the rough lane which lay close between compact homes built of the local cypress trees, that wood which is not rotted by the fetid waters of the nearby swamp, he kept a measured, unhurried stride. Everything in a small town moved slower and he was no exception. It was his nature to expend as little effort as possible and the lax pace of life in Hallowmere suited his predilection towards long periods of inactivity. Still, if something piqued his interest, or ire, he was prone to sudden explosive movements; acting on some primitive level of instinct.

In his own time, he arrived at one set of the many doors encompassing the temple building. He entered, looking around to see who had sought him out. In the dim light of the sanctuary, his tortoise shell eyes seemed to flash with a reflective light from the low burning candles.

[Geordnet]

"A Sorc, an Orc, and a Dork walk into the Temple, eh? Hang on, I gotta do this right."

A quick trip to market:

1 live pig (3gp)

Morul drives his newly-acquired Pork up the temple's doorstep. Onlookers look on in shock, as both the animal and the gravedigger himself were unclean things. But the latter had been summoned, and the creepy grin on his currently-unmasked face was the largest it'd been in years, so none dared interfere. He carefully clears away extraneous decorations in preparation for the next step.

"Honey, I've brought home the bacon for you!"
He shouts this as his dagger plunges into the swine's throat. A mess is made over an altar almost certainly not intended for live animal sacrifice. But making offerings to his god was a Cleric's right and duty, so what was anyone going to say about it?

After wiping off his blade, he doesn't spare the carcass a second glance.

He addresses no-one in particular:
"You guys must be really spooked if you've let lil' crazy ol' me back in here. What, them zom-zoms gotcha knickers in a knot? Well, I guess they have been interrupting my sleep more frequently of late..."


Woo boy... I hope I didn't overdo that entrance.

For what it's worth, the value of that pigflesh should be enough to cover the cost of cleaning up.

[thelastorphan]

Akem was very surprised to receive such a summons. Usually the only information or correspondence of any kind that came to his hut was from the sick and injured who needed help. He had been in the middle of tending his small garden when the courier arrived.

Whatever was needed of him must be gravely important or the town elders would have preferred he stayed where he was. They did not like him moving about in the heart of town. He often had to have a patient retrieve goods for him as part of their payment for treatment. It wasn't yet time to restock but it had been a long year since last Akem had been to town. Everyone stared. As they should. Even though he helped them there was still a beast inside. Akem felt it often and Ducal seemed drawn to it.

Duke, we are going into town. Best behavior, pup. Akem let out a slow low whistle and the Wolf skulking the edges of his garden came to his side. It listened to him, even treated him with respect but by no means was this animal domesticated.

Akem gathered his things. A cloth wrapped around the head and chain of his flail, carried over his back, it did a good enough imitation of a bindle, no one would question to hard anyway. He headed for the temple. Wondering if perhaps it was just that someone was injured and could not be moved. That was rare, even if they shouldn't be moved people often still brought them to Akem, instead of the other way around.

Walking through town everyone stared. Ducal attracted as much attention as Akem, growling at anyone staring too long or getting too close. As he approached the old stone building he began to think that something else was at play, the mood was tense.

[Ralasha]

I think I'll let you three get 'acquainted' before I move things along, after all, therr is a dead pig on the altar.

[Geordnet]

Morul seems a bit weird, even ignoring the pig thing. He's definitely a dwarf, but doesn't fit the stereotype at all. His voice is gravelly, but also tenor with a local accent. His beard only covers about a quarter of his face, as his cheeks are clean-shaven. And his demeanour along with a wild grin and glint in his eye are all the exact opposite of "dour".

"So you're the other two... and a spare? Well, the beastie looks like he can more than pull 'is own weight, so the more the merrier."

Having gotten no immediate reply to his earlier comment, he offers his hand to his co-summoned. After thinking a moment, he removes the glove on it as well.

"Call me Morul, Zaneg, Catten, Morzan, Cheesehead, whatever y'like. 'might've seen me 'round a funeral before, but like this."

The mask hanging by his side is moved over his face, giving him the visage of an enormous toad. It's somehow less creepy than his actual face.

[thelastorphan]

Ducal sniffs at the Dwarf's hand and snorts. Seemingly uninterested in the dirty and strange man. And more interested in the swine.

Akem He extends his hand cautiously and shakes once. Firmly. Was it necessary to slaughter the- Duke! Heel. He calls the Wolf back to his side. Taking in Morul, Akem finds his demeanor largely harmless. Though animal sacrifices are wasteful. What would be desperate enough to call Akem and this dwarf? Perhaps it was not an injury that needed attending to.

He headed inside with Ducal in tow.

[drayen]

Holata watched the dwarf slay the pig in the temple. When the dwarf turned around looking for... adulation? admonition?, the sorcerer impassively stared past the blocky figure refusing to give him the attention he craved.

[Ralasha]

The local Cleric (proper) clears her throat from a short distance away... Already accompanied by the local mage, and the 'captain' of the guard.

"If the... Pleasantries are out of the way?" The elderly mage gives a long stare. "We have a few things to discuss." He gestures to the stairs hidden in one of the vestibules as the cleric makes her way up into her quarters, which were somewhat obviously designed for a slightly larger number of the Devout.

The mage brings up the rear while the gaurd makes his excuses and exits the temple.

The Cleric leads you to a table covered in varied ledgers, books and scrolls. She shifts through the mess and pulls out a missive judging by the fine vellum and wax seal. "Our latest trader has not arrived. They were scheduled to be here no later than this morning. We would like you three to head out towards the south road, and investigate.."

[Geordnet]

At the priest's words, Morul's grin is replaced with a hard, neutral expression. The change is so abrupt, that one might think he'd be replaced with an entirely different person.

"A trader, you say? Strictly business, then.

What sort of wares does he peddle? How many guards does he employ? Can you give us a description of him or his caravan?

Oh, and, of course... I trust we are to be suitably compensated for this venture as well?"

[drayen]

Holata let the mental gears grind through the cleric's pronouncement for a moment before commenting, "Who is it? Were they alone or with others?"

[Ralasha]

At the priest's words, Morul's grin is replaced with a hard, neutral expression. The change is so abrupt, that one might think he'd be replaced with an entirely different person.

"A trader, you say? Strictly business, then.

What sort of wares does he peddle? How many guards does he employ? Can you give us a description of him or his caravan?

Oh, and, of course... I trust we are to be suitably compensated for this venture as well?"

She gives the dwarf a flat stare.

The wizard speaks up. "Greed is never a good sign. You may go." He looks at the cleric, "And people wonder why I so dislike dwarves. I swear, they'll steal the jewels from a corpse."


Holata let the mental gears grind through the cleric's pronouncement for a moment before commenting, "Who is it? Were they alone or with others?"

The cleric turns to Holata, "The trader is one one of the few willing to brave the trails to make certain that our necessities arrive. This particular caravan bring the stipends for the temple, ingots for the smith, coal for the smith, a few other sundries. Including a small chest full of components which I and the Wizard pitch in together for, for such instances as such spells need be cast." She stares at the dwarf, "Needless to say, your compensation is unlikely to be monetary. Though I am certain that if he has encountered difficulty he will be grateful for your assistance."

[Geordnet]

"Seriously? You're going to call me down here and suffer through my insanity with silence, only to give me the boot the minute I say something reasonable?"

Morul stared at the wizard in shock. He was beginning to remember why it was that he hadn't visited the temple in so long.

"Greed? Bah! Since when was it the obligation of free men to toil for you unquestioningly like a serf? Besides, I never said anything about money; you jumped to that conclusion yourself. If you want this done as a favour, then just say so to my face!

Gehenom, if it was just some local farmer lost in the swamp, and not a merchant who should know the risks and have the means to protect against them, then I wouldn't even have bothered to ask in the first place!"

He lowers his head into his hands and shakes it. It's clear that he's having to exercise quite a bit of his usually-absent self-control. With a sigh, he dons his mask, blocking any further reading of his face.


He mutters to himself as he stands up, preparing to excuse himself as the wizard demanded:

"And they call me the mad one..."


When designing my character, I never considered what would happen if someone insulted him directly to his face. Even now that I am, most insults would probably bounce off him like a rubber sheet; I'm still astonished that one managed to stick somehow.

Honestly though, I don't want the campaign to be derailed before it could even begin, either, but all the other options I could think of are more... Violent. This should still be salvageable.

(Preferably, one of the other PCs could interject as a mediator here; if not, I'll have to liaise with the GM to figure out a contrived way for Morul to rejoin later..)

[drayen]

Whoops!

Holata asked who it was because he assumed (rightly so as it turned out) that there would be few people coming through the village and this one was on a known schedule. Knowing the name would give him a face to go with it so he would recognize the person they were looking for if they found him. The man who brings the monthly paychest as well as the village's necessities should definitely be a know person to the entire village. Does he have a name? Would we all know how many people are usually in his retinue, barring any random people who booked passage with his caravan?


The sorcerer nodded in understanding, "Ah, him. Now we know who we are looking for and which way to head out from the village to find them. There is little traffic. It seems the easiest course is to walk to road until we find sign of them."

At the unfortunate, but not surprising, interchange between his master and the dwarf, Holata interjects, "It would seem that having the dwarf out of Hallowmere would behoove nearly everyone at this time. Again, the easiest way to do that is for you to accompany us."

[Geordnet]

Morul pauses to stare at the sorcerer. (At least, you assume he's staring under that mask.)

"Tell me, why should I give a flying carp about what you want after the way he just treated me?"


Please don't make this any worse. I'm desperately trying to figure some way out of this that keeps the party from disintegrating before it can even really form, but with every post it's getting harder. :smallsigh:

[thelastorphan]

I think you have said enough ,sir Dwarf.[/B]

Turning to the others.
[B]The question of payment is a reasonable one. This man's lack of tact aside his arm looks strong and hopefully his faith able. He knows now that some caravan is in need. If you think he is a danger to it then by all means stop him. I'd rather have him with us and keep track of him. Besides, Duke trusts him. The wolf snorts and appraises Holata with a sniff. The Sorcerer too it seems. I heal all those who risk my company. This trader will be no different. Whatever compensation you provide is of some, but little consequences. I expect to be no less reimbursed then when someone needs a remedy for pain or breaks a leg. The roads beyond the wall are dangerous. We risk ourselves to venture beyond them.

Diplomacy: [roll0]

[Geordnet]

I'd say you've definitely made your diplo here.
"See, this guy gets it. We've got no obligations to risk our own skins here, especially seeing as this trader isn't carrying anything vital and may have just been delayed a day for any number of trivial reasons. If we go off to help him regardless, it's because we wanted to, and not because you told us to. So the least you could do is ask nicely.

Either way, I'll gladly go with him on this one."

[thelastorphan]

Akem folds his arms. Which way is this trader? With any luck Ducal can find him quickly. Nodding at the Wolf now sniffing Holata curiously. That nose will likely do a better job than our eyes. More so in the unfortunate incident of bloodshed.

Ducal sat and let out a large yawn. Akem laid a hand on his head. There's a nice slice of meat in it for you if you help us find him. Duke perked his ears and narrowed his eyes at the mention of food. He stood at full attention. Have anything that belonged to the man? Or his travelling party?

[Ralasha]

The cleric shakes her head, "Nothing that has not been out of his possession for months. He was coming by way of the west road." She looks at the Dwarf, "You may not wish to listen to the Wizard, but I at least have not insulted you. I would appreciate a little consideration in return?" She gives what might be a shrug, "Payment is normally considered monetary. And without our components, I am afraid that at the moment I could only heal wounds. The defense of the town usually falls upon the two of us. If the three of you wish to take our places here while we go out in search of the merchant, this is acceptable as well."

She looks at the man with his wolf, with a wry snort she shakes her head, "We have nothing to compensate with without the merchant, no metals to make things, no basic tools, no money, no materials which cannot be scavenged with which to cast spells. I can offer to heal your own wounds should you need to return before having found the merchant... And I'm sure the Wizard here could find some service he is capable of performing for you. But again, if you prefer to remain here, do so. And I will get the Guard Captain and we three will head out." She trails off a bit, "It would almost be like old times. Minus Hark. Poor Hark."

[Geordnet]

"You may not wish to listen to the Wizard, but I at least have not insulted you. I would appreciate a little consideration in return?"
"You might want to remind your colleague of 'guilt by association', but if you want to put this behind us then so be it.
I'll probably have forgotten it all by morning anyways...

If nobody else objects, I think we only need three things before we're done here:

The size of the caravan (wagons, guards, etc.)
The distance to his last stop (so we'll know if we might need to camp on the road)
The trader's name and description (so we can recognize him)

And with that, we can be on our merry way."

If nobody else has anything to say, we can end this encounter without asking any follow-up questions and move on to the start of the quest.
All in favor, say "aye".

[thelastorphan]

For a moment Akem considers the Cleric's suggestion. No.
The two of you best stay here. The people would be uncomfortable if left in our charge. It is better that we go. Looking at the others. Agreed?

[Geordnet]

It is better that we go. Looking at the others. Agreed?
"As I said, I'm behind you on this one."

Um, just to clarify...

For a moment Akem considers the Cleric's suggestion. No.
You were referring to the temple's cleric, and not me, right? Or does this also count as a response to my OOC suggestion too?

[Ralasha]

OOC: This is actuallyall set up in advance. Either choice is possible, though each choice has different consequences.

The cleric rubs her eyes, The West Road. I am not a diviner, but they were on the last leg of their journey when the mess wee nger brought word, so less than a days travel. Typically two or three wagons, he sends the rest around. Maybe four guards?"

"When we said he should have been here today, that was vecause he was two days late, and is never more than two days late. So, as I am sure you can see, I am not a complete berk."