Valikar - Fallen Anvil Inn

[Methalor]

Valikar - Fallen Anvil Inn
Act I - Humble Beginnings

Every fortnight, the restless storms above Valikar would ignite into an explosive potpourri. The cloudless lightning arced across the city below, and the occasional firestorm rained down in the no-man's land surrounding the Ruined Spire. Remnants of a last-ditch effort by the Magi to subjugate the rebelling Thralls, the still-raging disturbances in reality could become unpredictably dangerous to those on the ground. During the bi-monthly storms, only those protected by luck, magic, or reflexes are safe - there is little hope for the mundane who are caught in the completely spontaneous bursts of elemental energies.

It is said that an entire settlement was once wiped out, around 20 years before our tale begins - all 783 residents of the Temple of Taloren, a semi-peaceful religion based around the teachings of the Halfling prophet Ranlik, perished as a ball of fire and lightning engulfed their makeshift house of worship. The tragedy is said to have been compounded by the assertions of the High Priest, a dream-filled human by the name of Rokilar, that the apocalyptic event was merely the embrace of Taloren coming to spirit his followers out of Valikar. Sensible scholars, such as those of the Most Learned Arcane Order of the Waypoint Guardhouse, a short distance from the Fallen Anvil Inn, realize that this was not the case - the verdict of the Most Learned Archmagus Tajiin Wrxlin, sent to investigate the catastrophe for the Order's records, was that the entire population of the Temple was destroyed by a particularly vicious storm, and that no evidence of Divine Activity was observed. Furthermore, Wrxlin observed that, rather regrettably, the vast majority of the Temple's holy writings were destroyed, meaning that there was no point for the handful of Waypoint-associated Archivists to investigate the ruins. Whether or not this report was fully true is, of course, ambiguous; as are many things around Valikar. But, I digress - this cautionary tale is only useful to us as an indication of the dangers such storms present to those unprotected in the urban wilderness. It has no direct bearing upon the beginning of our story.

This particular night, or as much of an approximation as the eternal dusk of Valikar allows, the storms were among the worst the inhabitants of the Fallen Anvil Inn had seen. The years had not tempered the potency of the Magi's desperate folly - already, word was beginning to spread amongst Daenor's People of a small settlement to the East befalling a similar fate to that of the Temple of Taloren. The powerful abjurations of Daenor shielded the Inn from any danger, but the same could not be said of the area outside Honrok's meticulously-crafted smooth, black "city walls". Looking out from the walls, one could see the already half-ruined buildings devastated by a vicious firestorm. The houses, once the homes of the Guards, were now burnt, half-decayed husks. The most recent storms had certainly ended the discussion amongst Daenor's People of rehabilitating some of the surrounding area - there was little left to work with now.

On this particular night, as was often the case when the storms were raging, a good 100 people were crammed into the three-floor inn. Despite the dismal spectacle outside, the inhabitants of Fallen Anvil Inn were in good spirits. Boisterous laughter resonated throughout the stone structure, a curious warmth spreading through even the most stone-faced of the People. Cards were being played at a good half of the tables - a little game called Triumph created by a well-liked but now mostly-forgotten troubadour in the early days of the Inn. Heavily-spiced wine, coming from a magically-imbued cask that Honrok had made a priority of creating, was the order of the day - a strong scent of cinnamon wafted through the gathered crowd as they sipped the Dwarven Smith's brew. A charming little fiddler, a seemingly always bright-spirited Kobold by the name of Yiknak, was capering about by the fire, his song and dance routine brining wide grins to those gathered around the blaze.

Ah, did I forget to mention the fireplace? When Honrok first returned to his forge, he had found the Inn in a state of extreme disrepair. Despite, or perhaps because of, the madness that had overtaken him, he felt compelled to repair it. He began with the once-beautiful stone-framed fireplace, his Dwarven instincts calling him towards the now-pathetic crumbling mantlepiece. As he cleared out the soot, he found a curious little Fey, sleeping amongst the ashes. Jik was his name, a small little hearth-spirit who had taken up residence in the fireplace many years ago. Jik had related the story of how the Inn came to be abandoned - the Guards, growing fearful of Honrok's disappearance, had decided that the area was inhabited by evil creatures. Not wishing to shatter the illusion, the Magi had concluded that the area must be vacated. A secret laboratory was constructed and, for a time, the basement of the Inn became little more than a humanoid slaughterhouse. Jik observed all this from hiding, playing tricks on the Magi and managing to free a handful of the unfortunate Thralls. About 10 years before the Blood Ritual, the Inn was truly abandoned - it had served its purpose. There was never really time to repopulate the area around the Fallen Anvil before the Barrier went up. Jik was bound to this particular hearth, having been born of the flames a century previous. He asked Honrok to create a great mantle for him and, in exchange, he would make sure that the fire burned eternal. A masterpiece of Dwarven craft, imbued with magical protection against tarnish, the jewel-encrusted fireplace now stands prominently against the wall of the Inn, the fire brighter than any in Valikar, the warmth greater and more comforting than can easily be believed.

Again, I wander from the subject at hand. Yes, the Inn. Song filled the air, optimism was everywhere, and all was well? No, of course this was not the case. This is Valikar, after all - if all seems well, something serious must be afoot in the background.

Behind the bar, Honrok brooded. The Dwarf's brow was furrowed, and few knew precisely why; those who did kept quiet out of respect for their friend. The normally well-groomed mithral-coloured beard of the Smith was knotted, his normally meticulous braiding somewhat frayed. He looked like he had not slept in days; indeed, he had been lying awake most nights recently. His work at the forge was distracted, his worksmanship still of high quality but without any of the creative spark that had made his greatest creations. It was whispered that he had heard a rumour quite recently, some dark secret that worried him greatly. He remained close-lipped about it, perhaps contemplating a course of action.

Willem seemed jovial on the exterior, his bushy eyebrows quizzically raised at a rather racy joke told by a gnomish wanderer by the name of Runkir Tobbledown, a frequent visitor at the Inn. Those more experienced with people, or those that simply know Willem well, would notice a twinkle of interest in his eyes - evidently, his discussion with Tobbledown went beyond strange jokes. A few whispered words later, and all the jovialness was gone - Willem shifted in his signature black cloak uncomfortably, while Runkir's face lit up as it always did when he had a tale to tell.

Animated conversations dotted the room, rumours of varied validity flying around. An apt information gatherer might have done well to investigate some of these conversations, but would have needed to be cautious of unfounded tall tales. Upstairs, the silence from Daenor's study indicated that the ex-Magi was deep in study - but valuable scholarship can be learned from him when he goes into such a studious state. Of course, for many, there was enjoyment was the order of the night; and, for those merely wishing to rest after a long journey or a hard day, the Inn present various amusements for such a person.



(OOC: Alright guys, you choose what to do. I think I've left this pretty open-ended for you guys. You can talk to Daenor, Honrok, Willem/Runkir, various less significant members of the People, or just enjoy roleplay some good ol' fashioned song and dance. Or anything else you want to do. Have fun!

My apologies for the style, if you don't like it. I'm trying to include as much additional info as possible for you guys... I'm not quite used to mixing descriptive writing with hooks yet, so hopefully I'll be improving with time.)

[pup3k]

A grim figure enters the inn, sweeps his head across the room, noting Honrok's apparently foul mood as well as the absence of his good friend Daenor. The man lifts the hood from his head revealing a green face with jet black hair. Those who live in or regular the Inn know that this is the Gray Wanderer. And the black color of his hair tells them that he is not in the mood for idle talk.

Gray walks towards the counter, matching Honroks countenance and gruffly asks, "Where's Daenor?"

After getting the answer he proceeds to climb the stairs and enters Daenor's study. "Daenor, we need to talk. These storms are getting worse. Nearly took me out on my to the Inn, luckily for me you gave me some protection before I left... Not much good now." At this he tosses a charred trinket onto Daenor's desk. "We need to figure something out."

EDIT:
((OOC: Woohoo!! first post!

On to the crunchy bits

I figured a little trinket wouldn't really matter, considering I simply used it for story purposes, and I'm going to use different types of text for each aspect that Gray takes on. bold for destroyer, regular for hunter, and italicized for ancient (if I ever use it...) so if the hair/eyes don't give away which aspect Gray is in, the text of speech will.))

[Shular]

Crunch (see link in signature for description)

Crunch sits near the main window of the common room, half-listening to the conversation around him while he stares out the window at the arcane storm. He thinks about the many people who have died over the years, and wonders about people's souls. "Do they make it past the barrier," he wonders, "or are they all just floating around us, trapped like everything else?"

He suddenly realizes someone is speaking to him, and sheepishly asks them to repeat their question.

[bchilders]

Seven

Seven sits quietly by (near Crunch), listening to the conversation that swirls around. Occasionally he grunts his agreement with a topic that is discussed or grimaces at different parts but, as usual, he keeps fairly quiet. His mind drifted outward, wondering if his father is out in the storms or even still alive.

[Methalor]

Crunch

When Crunch looked to the inquirer, he saw Jik dancing an impatient little jig around the table. The tiny little housesprite was filled with excitement, evidently having learned some news he felt was big. A spark came from his fingertips, lighting his sooty beard on fire, as if he was a tiny living candle; but Jik's hair did not burn, even though the fire was real. Those familiar with the little sprite new that this was his way of expressing that attention was required - certainly, the wild-eyed fellow had something to say.

"I said, didja see?! Didja see?! That was Gray, just Wandering in! He looked a mite cheesed, if I do say so myself! Which I do! I do! Hahahaha!"

The strange little fire spirit broke out into gales of laughter, amused by his own terrible jokes. "Black hair! Black hair! That means he's all mad 'n stuff! A green man with black hair! Hahahaha!"

A sly seriousness suddenly overtook the Domovoi, his laughter-wrinkles suddenly disappearing into a very pensive expression. "Ahh... Yes, he stormed straight upstairs, he did, indeed. Wanting to talk to Daenor, of course, yes. Crunch, Crunch, you wonderful brute! Do you know that Gray well? Do you? He doesn't seem to take very well to me, I'm afraid. What say you ambush him and tell old Jik what's got him in a fluster, m'kay? Just a small favour for a tricky little sprite."

Not giving Crunch a second to respond, Jik continued excitedly, "Why, you could go up there and listen in! Yes, indeed, you could! Or just barge in - more your style, isn't it? Don't forget to tell old Jik what's happening, yes?"

"I'd do it myself, but the old coot's put up wards. Yes, damnable wards. Doesn't he understand that hiding his books is funny?" Jik mutterred under his breath. Snapping out of it quickly, he looked up to Crunch, awaiting his response.

Seven

Seven was so lost in thought, that he didn't seem to notice an energetic, fiddling Kobold rapidly close distance on him. Yiknak, the capering bard, had progressively worked his performance through the crowd, leaving the prime place in front of the fireplace for another performer to occupy, not wanting to monopolize the space. Spotting Seven, a big fellow little Yiknak always thought needed a cheering-up, Yiknak greeted him boisterously, still playing his fiddle and still prancing around.

"Oi, big guy there! Come up! Come up! Dance! Live! Dancing is great for warriors! Gives you wings in battle, it does! Come!"

Addressing the crowd around him, Yiknak grinned widely, "Come, come, let us dance!" A few patrons, laughing nervously, rose to their feet and began to awkwardly imitate the amusing performer. "Come, come, to your feet dear big guy! Dance with us! Don't look outside and think gloomy thoughts! Time is now for dancing!"

[Greyen]

Karst

Karst sits near a wall next to Honrok. The man is broody as ever and sits quietly sipping a steaming mug, probably tea. He keeps a watchful eye on the goings on in the room. Seeing Gray wash through the room like a bad storm does not bode well but is not too uncommon. Glancing at Honrok to see if the dwarf had noticed, Karst relaxes a little.

His spiky black enameled armor, ever present, you see in his movements that the warrior of careful of his surroundings and cautious of his neighbors. Little corks or leather bits cap many of the sharper spikes. He is said to sleep in the stuff. He pike leans against the wall behind him, still within arms reach but not dangerous, a leather hood covers the business end. He is said to sleep with that too.

[Shular]

Crunch

Crunch points a claw at Jik's chest, carefull not to poke the little sprite. "One of these days," he growls playfully, "Daenor's going to lose his temper with you, and turn you into a rat or something. Stop trying to pry into his business...I reckon he know's what he's about. As for Gray, no, I didn't notice him come in, but I shouldn't be surprised he's in a foul mood. Have you LOOKED outside?" Crunch gestures at the window, where the bright flashes in the sky are obvious.

"But if you want to go spreading rumours, maybe you might know what's got old Honrok's beard in a twirl. After all, what could be so bad in Valikar that could cause anyone to worry so?".

Crunch chuckles, though not at his own sarcasm. He just heard Yiknak trying to coax Seven into dancing, and the thought of the surely orc capering about on the floor was silly enough to put him in a better mood. "Thank whatever gods might exist that we still have bards around," he thinks to himself.

[PocketRocket]

Lucian

Lucian sits at the bar looking ever so curiously at Honrok.

Hello, Honrok. What seems to be the problem? I know I have only been here for a few days, but you don't quite look like yourself. Is it women troubles? Hmmm... no! Maybe a great danger lies ahead? Or perhaps you are having a fight with the sprite! Well whatever it is... I want to know!!! I am ever so curi..."

With this Lucian sees Yiknak dancing around and is intrigued. He gets up, mid sentence and begins to hop around and dance with the kobold. Lucian's red mohawk bounces up and down as he jumps around and laughs.

[bchilders]

Seven

Seven glares at the bard as if saying, I'd love to see you try to move me. If the pestering continues he will look over to Crunch for some help before telling the kobold to go bother someone else.

Seven is not used to being around this many people. but with the weather as bad as it is there was not much else to do. He passes some time watching little pixie, mainly to keep from having to talk to anyone else. He listens curiously to hear if the sprite knows anything about what is troubling the blacksmith these days. Anything that could have that dwarf's beard in a knot is something that should make everyone wary.

[Arioch]

Suddenly, there is a sound of rushing air, and a figure in a white robe embroidered with silver appears in the room by the door. There is a lull in conversation as all eyes turn to stare at this newcomer. Slowly, a pale hand raises to the figure's face and removes an ivory mask. The face behind it is as pale as the hand, with eyes of a blue so pale that they were almost white.

The figure looks around the room, examining each face in turn. Slowly, he walks forward to the bar, leaning in to hold a whispered conversation with the dwarf behind it. The dwarf scowls and replies. The figure stands again. When he turns, his face is grim.

He was asking to talk to Daenor. Honrok told him Gray was already doing do, and he would have to wait.

Then, he spots the fiery sprite near the half-orc warrior, and his face lights up. "What is that?" He asks excitedly. He waves a hand, speaks a word, and vanishes, appearing next to Jik and Crunch with a crack.

(That's two dimension hops gone. I hope I can rest before we start the adventure. Oh, well. That's what my character's like. :smalltongue:)

[technophile]

From his perch on a shadowed stool near Willem and Runkir, Peth smiles at the sight of the little kobold bard trying to cajole the big orc into dancing.

He scans the crowd again, reassuring himself that despite the weather, Alais had not appeared. He had left the Inn rather... precipitously several weeks before, when a rumor of an undisturbed cache of ancient books and scrolls had reached his ears, and had not had the opportunity to bid her farewell. She was a beautiful lady, to be sure, and a delightful dancer, but patience and forgiveness weren't particular strengths of Alais, and Peth was more than a little trepidatious at the thought of running into her.

He shifts on his stool, his attention returning to Runkir's look of excitement. Slipping from his stool unnoticed by most in the crowd, he moves closer to Willem and Runkir and clears his throat politely. "I wonder if I might intrude," he says in his quiet voice, "and perhaps share whatever tale it is that appears near to bursting poor Mr. Tobbledown's lungs?" He meets Willem's gaze, expecting that it will be he who decides whether the tale will be shared or not.

[Methalor]

Gray

Daenor's room was a study in chaos. If one had been entering it for the first time, they would have thought that little of the Magi's concept of order had rubbed off on the venerable elf. Gray would know otherwise; Daenor's library was one of his prides, and his bookshelves were usually kept meticulously cataloged and clean. Anyone who knew the old wizard would know that there was something afoot - his tomes out of order indicated a real distractedness.

As Gray entered the room, he would be obligated to be careful of the hardcover blue tomes covering the floor. Those particular works seemed, at a quick glance, to relate to the nature of applying permanency principles to evocations; but the actual success of such an undertaking would be buried somewhere in walls of indecipherable text. Compounding the indecipherable nature of the manuscripts is the fact that they were written in a particular obscure language the some Magi used for the sake of secrecy. Few, outside of the various scholars scattered throughout Valikar, would be able to read such works.

The beautifully-carved oaken bookshelves, salvaged by some unknown traveller around 100 years previous and restored to full glory by Honrok, were in complete disarray. The books, normally neatly shelved, were leaning against eachother at odd angles, some half-open to pages filled with obscure mathematical symbols and archaic diagrams. Some of the hand-copied texts had degraded so much that they seemed virtually indecipherable.

Daenor's room did not have a bed; simply shelves upon shelves of books, and one small desk facing a solitary window. If Gray was to think about it for a while, he'd probably have realized that he had never seen Daenor sleep, not since those early days, despite the elf's advanced age. Now, the old wizard was simply staring out his small window at the storms raging outside. The storms were getting progressively worse - in the distance, a constant hailstorm of fire seemed to be raining down upon some abandoned buildings. A fire had started and was raging through the sector; luckily, no known settlements were contained in that area.

"Daenor, we need to talk. These storms are getting worse. Nearly took me out on my to the Inn, luckily for me you gave me some protection before I left... Not much good now. We need to figure something out."

Daenor slowly turned around to face Gray. His brilliantly white robes remained untarnished, despite the disheveled state of the room. His face usually had a grandfatherly quality to it, a kindness hidden behind his eyes, the look of a smile on his lips. Today, however, his face simply looked pensive, reflective - his gaze seemed to stare off into the distance, beyond Gray, evidently deeply in thought about something. He tugged lightly at his long, long-ago greyed beard, seeming to think for a moment before speaking in a slightly distracted voice, skipping any formal greetings.

"Yes, yes, something must be done. These fluctuations are... not completely natural. The intensity has increased, but it should not have. I was reading," he said, gesturing to the tomes at Gray's feet, "about Magi reasearch into how evocations can be made permanent - storms such as the ones above. The researchers were rather certain that, in their experience with such storms, they could not be dispelled without a considerably consolidated effort consisting of many highly-trained Gifted individuals; but, also, that the intensity could not be increased without similarly powerful interference."

"A few months ago, I started to notice increased intensity. These are the worst yet; and, don't forget, it's only been about 10 days from the last ones. They're becoming more frequent, more deadly. Soon, the rumours about settlements wiped out will be true..." he continued.

"I can tell you that there IS some entity interfering with the storms, at least to some extent. They may be doing so by accident, or experimentally, but could just as easily be attempting to wipe out the city. Something is afoot in the skies above Valikar..." he paused for a moment, ponderous.

"I can't leave here, unfortunately... It's too dangerous; if certain entities were to learn of my absence, the Inn could be reduced to rubble before I could return. I'm afraid I don't have too much information to go by, but I think I may need you to investigate this for me. The scholars of the Waypoint Guardhouse may be able to give you more information... Well, perhaps my investigations will turn something up before you leave - but I'm not much of an oracle." Daenor spoke with a twinge of regret.

"Ahhh, I'm getting ahead of myself. Do you think you can do this? The urgency of the storms is not at a breaking point yet, but it could get that way soon... As I'm sure you're well aware." he said, gesturing to the medallion, "Ah, that reminds me - take another from the bookshelf, if you can find it. I wouldn't want to be going out into those storms unprotected."

[Methalor]

Karst

Honrok ignored the curious Spellscale, prefering to focus on his own thoughts. When the fellow jumped up to join the revelers, he sat up a bit in his seat, looking towards Karst.

"I say, lad..." Honrok spoke suddenly, coming out of the deep thought that had consumed his attention for the past hour, "I told you of my past, that night a couple weeks ago at the Forge... You know of Yitalik, curse his darkened soul. No, no, disregard an old Dwarf's worries. Nevermind."

He paused for a moment, his face twisted in painful contemplation, and then continued, "No, no, I should tell you. You're a good lad, a good smith. You should know what pains me."

Shifting uncomfortably, as if the recollection disturbed him, he continued with his story, "A few nights ago, when I was up late, a rather mysterious traveler came through. She was clad in a heavy grey cloak, although my keen smith's senses picked up the distinctive clink of chainmail underneath. Her face was covered by a bizarre mask, black and featureless with disturbingly empty eyesockets... I could sense no ill intent, true, but the sight was... unsettling."

"She spoke to me, an exchange between us of assorted rumours. But, that's not what disturbed me... It was as she left, just as she exited the door. She said, 'A mutual friend of ours is still alive. The Drow who made you.'" Honrok continued.

"I know not what to do with this information, lad... If he is truly still alive, he must be preserved by some foul magic; and he'd still be a powerful foe. And yet, if he still exists... He must be killed. Destroyed for what he did and doubtless will do. Curse that wanderer... Curse them for leaving me with that." Honrok's mood seemed to sink lower than before, the telling of the tale simply depressing him further. With a loud sigh, he looked up to see a patron timidly approach him, looking for some more spiced wine. Filling the little halfling's order, he sunk back in his chair, returning to his thoughts.

[Methalor]

Crunch/Niskrar

"Bah! Outside is not a place for old Jik! Keeps to the fire, yes! Does this mean Crunch won't help old Jik out? Daenor's a real grump lately, think he threatened that rat thing to old Jik just a day ago!" Jik hopped up and down, for no apparent reason - he wasn't actually upset, as the mischievous twinkle in his betrayed.

"Old Honrok's beard braids are out of knot because of some traveler a few nights back. Old Jik hid in the fire, yes, heard it all. Mostly rumours, rumours are good... But Old Jik's keen ears also heard her say something as she left - something about old friends and making. Seemed unimportant. Maybe Old Jik's poor brain recalls if Crunch helps him? And if Crunch takes his gentle claw away from Old Jik's tender body?" Jik grinned.

Jik's plot was interrupted rather quickly by the sudden and abrupt appearance of Niskrar. The little sprite hopped backwards about a foot, trying to put some distance between himself and the crazy sorcerer. A sly look came over his face, and he spoke, "Hello strange hopping person! Old Jik thinks you come to see Daenor? Is he right? Maybe hopping person can jump upstairs and listen in? Hmmm? Why are you looking at Old Jik strangely?! Ahh! Right! Hopping person never seen Old Jik before? Haha, hopping person come around here before, Old Jik sees all. Maybe hopping person doesn't? And maybe hopping person has a name that poor Old Jik's brain forgot?"

[Shular]

Crunch

Crunch shifts position as the magician appears in front of him, interposing himself as well as he can between the pale human and the diminutive house pixie. "His name's Jik," he says in response to the newcomer's question. "And he's a who, not a what."

[bchilders]

Seven

Seeing this newcomer appear out of thin air and his friend interpose himself between him and the pixie, Seven sits up as if ready to lend a hand. This newcomer pale apearance and eyes are slightly unnerving, but he is also not that physically imposing. Regardless Seven readies himself for the worst as nonchalantly as he knows how.

[Greyen]

Karst

Karst sits and his scowl deepens as he listens to Honrok's tale. You want something done? I could easily gather a few of the boys and go have a little look around to dig up some information. I think we can leave as soon as this storm stops.

Karst looks around the room for a moment and catches the eye of either Seven or Crunch and waves them over. You two want to take a walk? Something to help out old Honrok? After the storm dies down some of course.

[Arioch]

Jik's plot was interrupted rather quickly by the sudden and abrupt appearance of Niskrar. The little sprite hopped backwards about a foot, trying to put some distance between himself and the crazy sorcerer. A sly look came over his face, and he spoke, "Hello strange hopping person! Old Jik thinks you come to see Daenor? Is he right? Maybe hopping person can jump upstairs and listen in? Hmmm? Why are you looking at Old Jik strangely?! Ahh! Right! Hopping person never seen Old Jik before? Haha, hopping person come around here before, Old Jik sees all. Maybe hopping person doesn't? And maybe hopping person has a name that poor Old Jik's brain forgot?"

The sorcerer grins, white teeth glinting in a pale face. "I like you, little fae," he says quietly, "You seem fun. My name is Niskrar Solaxic, but don't spread it around, eh? It's much easier to be mysterious when people don't know your name. I am, as you say, here to see Daenor." Turning to Crunch, Niskrar bows flamboyantly. "Forgive me for any offense, good half-orc. I was simply intrigued by that magnificent sprite. If you will excuse me..."
Niskrar leans on the wall next to the fireplace. "I can wait. I like it here. Tell me more about these people, Jik."

[Shular]

Crunch

Crunch gives Niskrar a smile (that does not reach the eyes), and shakes his head. "It's not me that deserves the apology (unless you call me half-orc again), but I'll make no further issue of it." He opens his eyes wide and gestures towards Jik, "Incur the wrath of the dread house-sprite at your own risk!"

He chuckles to himself and turns toward Seven. Noticing the other orc's ready position he raises an eyebrow and asks "what is it?"

[bchilders]

Seven

"Its nothing," Seven says and then pauses for a moment as if realizing who he is talking to, "That pale stranger just gave me the creeps." He relaxes a bit and then notices Karst waving the two of them over. He flicks his head that way, motioning to Crunch that their attention is wanted.

[PocketRocket]

Lucian

Lucian, seeing Seven getting up, walks up to him and strikes up a conversation.

"Hey there big guy. That is a mighty fine sword you got there. How did you come buy such a nice looking sword? I have a couple of weapons myself, but nothing as nice as yours. That is a great scimitar isn't it? Do you know magic like I do? I know I wear armor and have weapons, but I specialize in magic. I was taught in this really neat school in the back alleys of this nightmare city. They taught me a whole lot. I bet I may even be stronger than that pale guy over there. Do you know him? He seemed to be looking at you kinda funny. Why were you standing up, again?"

[Shular]

Crunch

Nodding silently at Seven's admission (and knowing how hard it was for the other to make it), Crunch is about to rise when Lucian begins his verbal assault. His mouth hangs open for a moment, then he snaps it shut.

"Must be the storms that brings out the crazies," he thinks to himself.

Worried that the reticent Seven may lose his temper (first the kobold, and now this), Crunch thinks quickly. "Hey Jik. I think we've found somebody who's more talkative and random than you are! Are you going to give up your crown so easily?"

Having no idea how Jik will react to that jibe, Crunch quickly stands up, nods to the crazy people around him, and heads over to Karst to see what he wants.

[Greyen]

Karst

When Crunch/Seven approach Karst stands and offers him/them a seat then he says I'll let Honrok explain the details, but we have a Magi to find. You think you and your friend are interested in coming along? Do you know anyone else who might be?

[Arioch]

"Hey there big guy. That is a mighty fine sword you got there. How did you come buy such a nice looking sword? I have a couple of weapons myself, but nothing as nice as yours. That is a great scimitar isn't it? Do you know magic like I do? I know I wear armor and have weapons, but I specialize in magic. I was taught in this really neat school in the back alleys of this nightmare city. They taught me a whole lot. I bet I may even be stronger than that pale guy over there. Do you know him? He seemed to be looking at you kinda funny. Why were you standing up, again?"

Niskrar grins widely. "Stronger, perhaps. Faster?" He vanishes, and appears at Lucien's shoulder with a crack. "I doubt it."

[bchilders]

Seven

Seven uses the pale wizards appearance as his oppurtunity to slip by this new conversation and catch up to Craunch.

[pup3k]

Gray turns to face the book-cases. "Well, what kind of a person would I be if I couldn't do something for a friends" A slight smile breaks across his determined face, but dissapears almost as suddenly as came. "The Thief King also might know something, I'll look into it."

Gray walks to the the book-shelves and searches for a new medallion. Once he finds it he will leave the room and and walk down stairs.

"Daenor needs something done, so who has the courage to help me do it?

OOC
Take 20 on Search check, gives me a 22.

[Shular]

Crunch

The normally mild mannered Crunch is becoming visibly annoyed. "Good gods!", he shouts, turning to face Gray. "Has EVERYONE lost their senses today? Gray, there's not a man here who wouldn't risk his life in defense of the Fallen Inn or the service of Daenor. To question the courage of these people is an insult, and you should know better!"

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to calm down, though he does not break eye contact with the Killoren wanderer. "Now then, if you're looking for volunteers, I have little doubt you'll find them, but you'll get a better reception if you're more civil about it."

[pup3k]

The Killoren makes no move to apologize nor does he back down in any other other way. Instead Gray draws himself up, which even given that he well past his prime, is still impressive given his stature.

"Have you ever known me to me to be civil young one?" Gray asks this both as a joke, and semi seriously.

"Now, should I take that as volunteer status?" Again, partially joking, partially deadly serious.

"I plan on leaving before the storm subsides, thus courage is needed. I also plan on travelling to the court of the Thief King, again courage. You may be seeing a pattern here, and these aren't even the most dangerous parts of this mission. So, I will ask again, who here is willing to come with me?

[Greyen]

Karst

Honrok, I think we shall kill two bird with one stone. Karst stands and says to Gray You tell us when you are leaving, because 'before the storm subside' isn't exactly accurate enought for me, and we'll be there to join you. The anger and sarcasm drip bitterly between Karst's clipped words.

[Arioch]

Niskrar turns to face the stairs, recognising Gray's voice, and grins again.

"Well, I was looking for something to do. Looks like I've found it. I'll lend you my skills, old-timer. My price is my share of any loot. I presume there will be loot?"

Niskrar has been around at least as long as Gray, so feels entitled to call him "old-timer", since they probably would have met a couple of times. I'll PM pup3k some of my hidden backstory if he likes.

((Dammit! Now I'm low on spells. Curse my character's need to impress! Can I replenish them somehow before we leave, Meth? Pretty please?))

[pup3k]

Gray turns to Karst, We'll leave as soon as everyone is ready, which, given the increasing duration of the storms of late, I am assuming to be before this one subsides.

He then turns to Niskrar, Old timer, eh? I don't think I've heard that one before... Don't get used to it.

@ Arioch
Sure, I'm definitely interested in seeing how a human could have been alive as long as an ageless creature and a venerable elf...

[Shular]

Crunch

Crunch shakes his head and sighs. "Yeah, yeah, I'm in, of course. Give me some time to put things in order, and I'll be right with you."

He turns to Seven and Karst. "I'll be back in 10 minutes. If you'll get the details on Honrek's magi while I'm gone, you can fill me in when I get back."

With that he heads toward the main door, pauses at the threshold to look back at the group, rolls his eyes, then heads outside.

Crunch has a couple rooms close-by, where he keeps most of his non-magical belongings.

[bchilders]

Seven

Seven doesn't feel the need to express that he will be going as well. He doesn't assume that Gray will turn down the extra help. The idea of going out into this storm isn't overly appealing, but someonein the Thief Kings court might be able to give him some information about his father. He sits and waits for any information on this Magi while Crunch runs to get supplies.

[pup3k]

Very well, any who are coming be back here in ten minutes, I'm going to get us something that will help with the storm... Gray pauses for a moment in thought, then adds, Hopefully.

With this he dashes back upstairs into Daenor's study.

How many of these medallions do you have? I'm going to need them all I believe. He researches the book shelves, as many times as needed until he finds any and all of the medallions that are still in the room.


OOC

Again take 20 on as many bookshelves as needed.

[Greyen]

Karst

Honrok, tell me what we need to know about this Magi. We shall deal with him if we can in the process of this little excursion. Karst says to Honrok. Karst doe shis best to memorize the words of the smith, knowing that every little piece of information will be important.

When he is finished he excuses himself, grabs his pike and steps out into the storm. He quickly dashes to the doors of the smithy. He carefully slips inside and gathers his pack and the rest of his traveling gear. Before leaving he double checks for anything he may have missed and returns to the inn.

Stepping into the doorway he shakes himself off, sounding like a rattle of steel. Then he walks back over to his place.

[PocketRocket]

Lucian

Excited by the possiblity of leaving and going out to fight for the Inn, Lucian runs to his room to prepare himself for the journey. He places his armor on, and straps his many reserve weapons to his body. At 10 minutes he walks out to meet the others. The red haired, red skinned draconic character, stands proudly in the center of the room. "Gentlemen, let's do this!"

[technophile]

Peth turns and stares at the Wanderer, his mind suddenly racing. Anything Daenor wanted that would require the service of so many, and so urgently, stood a grand chance of involving information of exactly Peth's favorite sort.

And there would be no chance of running into Alais out in the storms, of course... not that he was afraid of her, necessarily, it's just that those confrontations tended to be so ugly and disordered, they ruined his mental calm for days afterwards.

His decision made, he stands and quickly gathers his traveling gear. Emerging quietly from the crowd, he looks at the Wanderer and says calmly, "I believe my talents may be of some use out there."

[Methalor]

Gray:

Daenor sat with a bemused expression on his face, watching his old friend ransack the already-chaotic bookshelves. Even after Daenor's own explorations of the tome-laden shelves, a considerable amount of dust remained. Choking clouds arose around Gray, swirling eddies of tome-bound dust.

Gray found no medallions on the shelves, as that was not where Daenor stored such things. After watching his old companion for a minute or so, Daenor reached into his desk and produced a handful of medallions. The pendants looked to be made of a large ruby, although it was probably just an arcane construct, an approximation of the real gemstone. A simple anvil was engraved into the stone, an understated work of Honrok's master craftsmanship.

Grinning, Daenor spoke, handing the medallions to Gray, "Ahh, you'll be wanting these, I'm guessing? One, Two, Three... Looks like there are about 10 here; take them, take them."

"I've changed them a bit; they're a tad more powerful, now. They'll absorb the full blast of two doses of the fire-rain; one dose of the lightning, now. They might work against other fire-magic; I haven't really tested them much. Let me know how they work out." he continued.

"Now, a bit of advice for you - be cautious of the Thief-King's Court. Willem tells me there is a bit of an uprising; "renewal", I think his source termed it. I think you might be wise to talk to those stuffed-up Magi-wannabes at the Waypoint Guardhouse first - but be careful of them, too... Not all are as honest as they should be. Regardless, I suggest you take the night to rest, and embark in the "morning"... Ahh, I remember real mornings. But, yes, back to important matters - take the time to replenish your energies, both physical and astral. The situation is urgent, but I do not advise rashness."

[Methalor]

Peth (Earlier):

Willem shrugged, looking towards his conversational partner. Tobbledown nodded curtly to his fellow Gnome, acknowledging his presence in the conversation. Short formalities aside, he continued his tale.

"As I was saying, it was at the ruins of the Temple of Taloren, just a few days ago, before the storms started anew. Searching through the old ruins, y'know... That Wrxlin must have lied, for I found some worthy tomes in the outskirts of that ruin... Never did trust those Waypointers - too much like Magi for my tastes, even if they aren't quite as exclusive. Ah, aren't you associated with them? Might want to get out of there, y'know, come to a nice place like here - they aren't so trustworthy, that bunch. Or some of them. Whatever." Runkir rambled on, distracted from his topic. A quick glare from Willem, and the little gnomish merchant scurried back to the matter at hand.

"Yes, yes, a few days previous... I was on the outskirts of Taloren, when I heard some chanting or something. Religious-sounding bunk, at that! 'Oh great and powerful Darfee' or something..." the gnome mockingly mimiced, "Yes, yes, I was about to approach them, find out what's what, when I noticed a distinct aura of magic around them. But it wasn't like that of the Gifted ones... No, it felt somehow 'greater'. Maybe like that faith-based magic I've heard of. Who knows. Anyway, anyway, yes, yes, back to the topic! I was about to approach them, and then I noticed a dis---No, wait, I've already said that. Next thing I know, there's this scream! Bloodcurdling! A bright crimson flash! Then I notice - there's a RIVER of blood STREAMING from this makeshift altar! Corpses were everywhere, I swear it on my nose!"

"I'd heard that some halfling gypsies or something were wandering the area... And that's who it looked like was getting massacred! Of course, I was about to go give them the old one-two! But then this rather burly guy shows up, dressed in some priestly robe things, and he wants to take MY head! So, despite my bravery, I ran like hell! It was sad, I had to use all my precious speed scrolls, 'else he woulda caught me. Was hoping to get something nice for them, I was... Anyway, yes, that's my tale - cultists at the old temple! Blood! Now, Willem, what do you have for me...?"

[pup3k]

Gray nods to Daenor, Very well, if you think it wise to wait until morning, I will follow that advice.

Gray leaves the room and heads down-stairs. Once everyone has gathered he makes the announcement. Daenor thinks it best to delay our start until morning, so that is when we will leave. Everyone take one of these, they will protect you from the storms if and when more should arise. Gray passes out the medallions and retires to where ever it is that he is staying, shortly after adding I suggest everyone rest well, it may be awhile until we find anything as welcoming as the Inn

[Greyen]

Karst

Karst gathers the medallion and says So we leave at dawn then. He turns and strides out of the door and into the storm. There he walks into the forge where he keeps a pallet in the back. If anyone follows or comes in they find him in a cleared area practicing his forms in the tight area of the smithy.

[Shular]

Crunch

Crunch strides into the main room in full combat regalia: gleaming breastplate, finely crafted buckler, greatsword hilt protruding from the hilt on his back, and coiled whip at his side. With sturdy backpack hoisted over his shoulder he is ready as can be to begin the adventure.

"Okay, I'm set. Is everybody ready?" He suddenly realizes most people are heading off in various directions, not at all adventure-party-like. "Umm...guys? What's going on?"

[bchilders]

Seven

Seven walks over to where Crunch entered and replies to his friend, "Plans changed. Looks like we'll all leave at dawn tomorrow." He waits around a bit to see what Crunch's plans are from here, but if nothing interesting arises he picks up a medallion and makes his way back to him and his fathers home to rest for the night.

[Shular]

Crunch

Crunch sighs and rolls his eyes, then notices Grey giving out medallions and, not knowing what purpose they serve, collects one just as the wanderer is about to head to his room. Once the talisman is in his hand, he heads back to Seven.

"Well, not much to do until morning, then. I may not need as much sleep as most people, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy a comfortable bed to sleep in. Probably best if you go rest, yourself. I'll see you in the morning."

He turns to head out, but changes direction and goes to the bar for one last mug of spiced wine. With a silent toast to a successful adventure, he downs the drink in one long quaff, wipes his lips with his sleeve, and heads off to bed.

[PocketRocket]

Lucian

After hearing Gray's announcement, Lucian sighs. "But I was ready to go fight some bad guys." He looks down like a disappointed child and kicks the ground in front of him. He takes a medallion and heads up the stairs. "I guess I can wait until morning."

[Shular]

Crunch

Crunch is the first to arrive in the "morning", dressed once more in full battle gear. Seeing that nobody else has arrived, he slips behind the bar and grabs himself a mug of spiced wine. He takes a seat in his favorite chair by the window, and waits patiently for the others.

[technophile]

Peth (Earlier):

Willem shrugged, looking towards his conversational partner. Tobbledown nodded curtly to his fellow Gnome, acknowledging his presence in the conversation. Short formalities aside, he continued his tale.

At the mention of the Waypointers, Peth grimaces. "I'm no longer... affiliated with them, if I ever really was," he explains when Tobbledown takes a breath. "They sit on their hoard of knowledge like a greedy old dragon, lying about its extent and even existence." From his tone it's clear that this is just about the worst crime he can possibly imagine.

The rest of the tale, though, brings a faraway look into his eyes. "Flames from the heavens, altars running with blood... just the kind of things the Ancients wrote about when they discussed the origins of divine magic..." he muses. "And you're right, it's entirely possible the Waypointers missed something when they 'cleaned up' the place. Either way, it would be an interesting thing to see, I'm sure..."


The next morning, Peth watches Crunch seat himself at a nearby stool. As usual, the little gnome goes unnoticed. Slipping from his table against the wall, he walks towards the large warrior. "Ho, Crunch," he says in greeting as he approaches; despite the fact that his steps are obviously slowed by the chain shirt he wears, the darkwood shield slung on his back, and the morningstar and crossbow lashed to his pack, they are as silent as ever; the chain shirt glimmers disquietingly in the shadows of the Inn, its edges blurring into the background. "I hope you found some sleep despite the colorful storm last night. I had to resort to some of the more esoteric writings of the not-so-great Sage Al-Lamali to bring sleep to my own chambers." He is evidently in a good mood; the prospect of leaving the Inn (and avoiding any ugly scenes) having buoyed his spirits considerably.

[PocketRocket]

Lucian

When morning arrives, Lucian's head pops right out of bed. He removes his overly fancy sleeping wear, and dons his battle gear.

With both vest and armor fitted in place, Lucian begins to strap the multitude of weapons to his person. He makes sure his headband is in place, alligned perfectly on his head so as not to mess up his perfect mohawk. He places his ring on his hand and his amulet around his neck and finishes off his ensemble by strapping his buckler to his arm and throwing his cloak around his shoulders.

All of this takes about an hour, due to the fact that he needs to make sure everything looks absolutely perfect and that he remains as gorgeous as ever. He looks into his mirror. "Has there ever been a more perfect image?"

Lucian emerges down the stairs into the lobby of the Inn. He finds the rest of the group already down stairs and walks to them. "And once again, gentlemen, let's do this!"

[bchilders]

Seven

Seven wakes up and gets ready with little formality. He quickly dons his armor and straps both weapons in place on his back. When he enters the Inn he sees Crunch sitting in the usual spot and makes his way over to him. As he sits down, Seven grunts what could be taken as a greeting and waits for the others to show up.

[pup3k]

Gray walks into the commonroom of the Inn. After seeing Crunch and Seven sitting side-by side he calmly walks over to Crunch and points at the medallion hanging around his neck.

I don't remember giving you one of those last night. Oh well, it will prove quite helpful I'm sure.

With this he sits in an open seat at the table, clearly waiting for questions.

[Shular]

Crunch

Crunch starts at the realization the Peth was present. One day I'm not going to notice something deadly, he thinks to himself, and THEN where will I be? He nods at Peth as the gnome approaches. "Slept well enough, I suppose. The prospect of heading into the city usually leaves me feeling restless, so I can see why you might find sleep difficult."

He gives another nod and a half-smile to Seven, more amused than annoyed by the bruskness of his friend.

When Gray arrives and comments about the medalion, he grins and can't help but make a little dig. "And I thought I was inattentive. Grabbed one just before you went up to your room. So what are they for, and how do you use them?"

Finally, at Lucien's arrival and comment, he looks around. "Five of us. If noboby else is coming I suppose we can go, but I think we should probably wait for Karst, at least."

[Greyen]

Karst

Karst steps into the room a light shhen of sweat at his brow. His gravelly voice carries a hint of apology My apologies for being a little late. My morning exercise took a little while longer than usual to clear my head. I am ready. His armor and weapons gleam, well poilshed and ready for use.

[pup3k]

Gray swiftly answers Crunch's question. It is protection from a few elements. According to Daenor it can withstand one bolt of lightning from the storms or two balls of fire from the same storms. It also may be of use in combat, of that he isn't sure. It will activate whenever you struck by one the two afforementioned elements. One of those saved me on the way here last night, so rest assured, they work.

[Greyen]

Karst

Well Gray, if everyone is here shall we go? I assume you know where we are goin first. The gruff warrior stands there oblivious that his lateness may have been the cause for them to be waiting.

[Shular]

Crunch

Crunch nods in agreement with Karst. "Aye, let's head out. Maybe while we're walking, you can tell us what this is all about?"

[PocketRocket]

Lucian

"Yes, I agree with Crunch. I too would like to know what this little trip of ours is all about? But we can discuss that as we travel."

[pup3k]

Well then, let us take our leave.

[bchilders]

Seven

Seven files out with the rest of the group, a silent monolith in the back drop of the adventuring party.

[Greyen]

Karst

Karst follows everyone outside before stepping 15 feet away from the grou walking to the side with polearm ready. He looks at the others waiting for them to spread out at bit. He travels within earshot of the others but is largely quiet.

[Methalor]

[OOC: Hey guys, just to clarify, I haven't ditched this. I'm just at the end of term... I've got a short Linear/Matrix Algebra exam, a novel to read and write a report on, a term paper on Medieval Court Culture, a CompSci assignment, a group project technical writing report, and a Russian Studies final exam. All within the next week. And I'm not embellishing at all.

So... I haven't ditched this, but I'm going to have a hard time getting anything to you guys in the next week. Strangely enough, once classes end and final exams start, I should have MORE time.

If you don't want to wait, I understand. I've tested your patience enough throughout this. :smallfrown: ]

[pup3k]

Gray leads the way out of the tavern.

The storms have been getting worse and worse of late. Daenor has done some research into the arcane spells that the storms emulate and has determined that there must be a group of powerful magic users that are increasing the duration, frequency and intensity of the storms.

He pauses shortly, then continues. Our first stop is the Waypoint Guardhouse, then after we find out if they know anything, or they are the ones responsible, we head to the court of the Thief King to see we can find any more information there. As of now this is the plan, feel free to make critiques and suggestions.

[pup3k]

((Anybody home? I really don't want this game to die.))

[Greyen]

We're all waiting on Methalor

[bchilders]

OOC: He said he'd be out for a while...so he'll be back sometime

[pup3k]

((Just making sure))