Strange Rumblings in Langtier: Party No. 1

[Hairb]

This is the thread for Strange Rumblings in Langtier, a 3.5 D&D campaign set in the Silver Kingdom of Menedy. The game happens here. Use the OOC thread for communicating with me and the rest of the group out of the context of the game, asking rules questions or advice and massaging my ego with flattery, toadying and brownnosing.

The Out of Character thread is here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4585876).

[Hairb]

The Silver Kingdom of Menedy

Plot Hook
The trouble in the north seems to be all anyone is talking about these days. After a spectacular falling-out between King Jucender and Baron Ordulain of Langtier, all of the king's representatives have been withdrawn from the rustic northern barony. It has fallen on the Baron's meager army to enforce the laws of the land, collect taxes, maintain order and police the kingdom's borders. Rumours tell of riots, dissent and chaos; tales of witch-burnings, massive conscription and villagers barricading their homes against the outside world abound.
Baron Ordulain seems to be recruiting help wherever he can get it, and a flock of sellswords, outlaws and thrillseekers have made a bee-line for the troubled barony, hoping to exploit the unrest for their own personal gain. In the temples of Larusel, priests offer prayers for the souls of those caught in the center of all this mayhem, and denounce the Baron for causing the trouble in the first place. Headstrong crusaders around the kingdom are taking up arms in the defense of the villagers of Langtier, while more cynical types see the situation as a chance for fame, gold and glory.


Law and Living in the Silver Kingdom
Human and Half-Orc peasants in the Silver kingdom have a hard lot in life. They are answerable to their liege lord, typically a knight, working for him in return for use of his land. Although no law prevents it, social mobility is low, and travel is fairly rare for the average peasant. To them, adventurers are emblematic of a life filled with unimaginable freedom, wealth and novelty. The liege's land is in turn granted to him by a baron in return for paying tithes, maintaining infrastructure like mills and bridges, maintaining a small unit of men-at-arms and keeping his territory clear of bandits, outlaws and threats to law and order. The baron may deprive him of his land and workers if he fails to keep it orderly, although most barons are loathe to do so without just cause. Tyrannical barons quickly earn the ire of the church of Larusel, which they can ill afford. The baron's land is granted by the king, in return for a pledge of allegiance, good management of the land, payment of taxes and the maintainence of a body of armed warriors. The king may dissolve a barony at any time, but such an action would cause a political crisis.
Burghers, who live in towns and cities, generally pay rent to their landlords in cash, not labour or goods. They make up a tiny middle class of merchants, craftsmen, skilled professionals and officials.

Halflings or (lightfeet as they are most commonly known) are answerable directly to the king or his chosen representives by way of ancient law. They may not be hindered while moving about lawfully, have the right to stay on any common ground they choose and cross waterways and borders without paying tolls, tariffs or fees. On the king's roads, a band of halflings may declare right of way over anyone but the king himself. As a result of the many legal grey areas involved in imprisoning a lightfoot, most officials find it easier to "encourage" them to move elsewhere. Because of their unique legal status, lightfeet make ready smugglers, fences and highwaymen. A group of lightfeet are generally related, moving around in large extended family units ruled by the family patriarch or matriarch. They are required to maintain the king's roads and signage and provide archers, outriders or light infantry in times of war.

Elves are ruled directly by their prince, and elvish laws differ from princedom to princedom. The princes are required by treaty to obey, defend and serve the king of Menedy, pay tribute and allow free passage into their lands. Elves and half-elves dwelling in the Princedoms are considered citizens of the Silver Kingdom as well in most cases.

Dwarves live in fortified "holds" which incorporate workshops, mines, warehouses, domiciles and sometimes farms. A Hold is ruled by a Thane, which is a hereditary title passed on since ancient times. Dwarves pay tax to their Thane who in turn contributes to the coffers of the Council of Thanes and Graves.

Gnomish graviates run in much the same way, although they tend to be less centralised and occupy more land than holds and have more rurally focused economies. Typically, graviates supply food and timber to holds in return for finely crafted goods and raw materials. A Grave's land typically encompasses two to four burrow settlements, each with a mayor, council and small militia.

The Council of Thanes and Graves elects a king for life. The king of the Mistholds (called the Low King after the signing of the treaty with Menedy) rules with the concensus of the Council, acting as their voice when dealing with the human kings.

The Law of the Mistholds require Thanes and Graves to come to each others aid in times of war, but does not stipulate to what degree. Dwarves, with their proud military history, and gnomes, with their organised militias, rarely have trouble coming up with the numbers. The Low King can expect help from the humans, but must contribute troops of his own if called on to do so. Citizens of the Mistholds have free passage in the human lands, and are answerable to local law while in them and vice versa.
About the Kingdom
Nowadays, the term Menedian refers to any subject of the Silver Kingdom, regardless of race. The first Menedians, however, were a few tribes of red-haired humans who dwelt along the south coast of the Sea of Plenty. Their chief god was Olectaus, the Raging Storm, a capricious and short-tempered lord of the seas and of weather. After the revelation of Lacour, Larusel became the chief god and the fire-headed began their conquest of human lands located inland. These men were tall, with dark hair and blue eyes, and were called Orbijers in the Menedian tongue, meaning 'farlanders'. The Orbijer lands were divided up among the new nobility, first the earls and later, the barons. Worship of their gods was permitted, and the pantheon of so-called Peasant Gods was formalized. Most rural centers feature places of worship dedicated to both the Peasant Gods and Larusel, although towards the coast, Larusel is by far the most popular.
Today, about 95% of the nobility are of Menedian origin. Around 70% of the knighthood and bureaucracy are Menedian. The King's Book states that only a red-headed king or queen may wear the crown.
Rough Timeline
1000 years ago. After a revelation by Lacour, prophet of Larusel, the coastal Menedian tribes sweep north and then west, bringing them into conflict with other human tribes and beginning the Foundation Wars. The red-headed Menedians overrun almost all human lands, but falter upon reaching the Elven princedoms. The nomadic Lightfoot (halfling) tribes swear fealty to the Menedians. The first king of Menedy, Lintarus, in crowned by Lacour and charged with the sacred duty of strengthening the kingdom's borders against the followers of Elmarguus. Lintarus' generals become the first earls, and knighthoods are bestowed upon other heroes of the war. The King's Book collects Menedian laws and establishes a feudal system, and the Crowners are founded to ensure its principles are upheld throughout the land.
500 years ago. Goblinoid tribes sack all the major settlements of the Gnomish hill folk. Gnomish refugees flee west to their allies, the dwarves, settling the hills and forests near the Dwarven holds. The two races form the nation known as the Mistholds, ruled over by a council of Dwarven thanes and Gnomish graves. The Council of Thanes and Graves elects their first king, a dwarf named Ordrec the Great.
470 years ago. Menedy invades the former Gnomish lands, driving the goblinoids back into the north. The new territory is given to the first barons. A brief civil war follows, pitting the earls against the king and the new barons. With the aid of halfling outriders, the priesthood of Larusel and elvish mercenaries in the service of the outcast Prince Hydelian, the earls are crushed and new baronies are declared in their place. The Mistholds are drawn into conflict with the Elven Princedoms over new Gnomish graviates established in contested territory.
460 years ago. Conflict between the three nations ends when the Elven Princedoms are devastated by waves of barbarian tribes from the Brasslands, while goblinoids turn their attention on the Mistholds. Menedy lends aid to both nations after the invaders are shown to be manipulated by Elmarguus' worshipers. Their help comes at a price, though. A rash of treaties see the Princedoms become a protectorate of the King of Menedy, and the shattered Mistholds a semi-autonomous vassal state.
400 years ago. The armies of the Silver Kingdom successfully reclaim the last of the gnomish lands. Several friendly goblin tribes are incorporated in the kingdom under the Treaty of Iron and Blood, which requires them to provide and supply soldiers to defend the kingdom, but exempts them from any other taxes.
390 years ago. Under the auspices of the heathen emperor Polyrand the Wicked, an alliance of monstrous forces assault the Kingdom from the west. It is during the decades-long campaign against Polyrand's forces that contact is first made with the ancient nation of Pirilin, which has cloistered itself away for centuries.
350 years ago.A splinter faction of orcs within Polyrand's forces rebels, severing supply lines and allowing Prince Tyiaclen's elvish warriors to spearhead a successful campaign against Polyrand's territory. The rebellion is put down without mercy, and a few orcish survivors are begrudgingly given shelter in the Silver Kingdom. Their descendants will become the first Menedian half-orcs.
300 years ago. A plague strikes the kingdom, decimating the northern regions. A horde of undead plague victims march south, besieging the capital and laying the surrounding countryside to waste. A group of heroes who survived the turmoil in the north seek out and destroy the horde's master, a former lieutenant of Polyrand named Dadhur. The horde collapses, and rebuilding begins.
150 years ago. The Barons of Obarc, Salanter and the Oemandine set out on a campaign against the distant nothern kingdom of Quoreed. Harassed by corsairs that threaten the capital and the Coast of Plenty, the King and other nobles are reluctant to lend much aid to what is viewed as a noble but reckless endeavour. Stewardship over the three baronies, which comprise much of the nation's northern border, is granted to the Ordulains of Langtier, who rule the border regions in consultation with the King. The so-called Barons' Crusade strikes out north, over the River Scrynd, through the Goblin Hills and into the Narinec flatlands, where they vanish, never to be seen or heard from again.
50 years ago. Coronation of Jucender the Elder, called Jucender Manyblessed during his reign. His rule is characterized by unity and consensus-building within the kingdom, and diplomatic entreaties are made to many of the kingdom's former foes.
3 years ago. The king dies at the hands of a fanatical follower of Elmarguus. His eldest son, Jucender the Younger, is crowned king of a nation at the height of its power and influence.
Gods of the Silver Kingdom

Domains not listed in the PHB can be found at the links given. All list of the PHB domains can be found here (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spellLists/clericDomains.htm).
Larusel- Nobility (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/divine/domains.htm#nobilityDomain), War, Law, Good
The Lawful Good being Larusel revealed himself to the prophet Lacour a millennium ago, declaring that the Menedian people were a part of his planned salvation of the mortal world from the wickedness of Elmarguus. Larusel is the crowner of kings, writer of laws and protector of nobility. To hold his favour, rulers must rule wisely and fairly, while their subjects must be loyal and obedient to just rule. His favoured weapon is the longsword.

Elmarguus- War, Destruction, Chaos, Evil.
The Chaotic Evil god Elmarguus resents all of Larusel's teachings, and is in all senses his antithesis. The two have been at war with each other since they emerged from the void at the dawn of time. His followers seek to gain power by any means, and would gladly trample over the bodies of millions to achieve their desires. Treachery, mistrust, fear and hatred are his tools, and his favoured weapon is the battleaxe.

Olectaus- Trickery, Water, Weather (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/divine/domains.htm#weatherDomain), Chaos
All but forgotten, Olectaus is the god of weather and the seas. His priests have little status in society, and generally only are called upon to bless new vessels and invoke protection on the faithful or very superstitious. Secretly, Olectaus's followers await the devastion of the land in an apocalyptic flood that will return the Menedians to their former faith. He is Chaotic Neutral, and his favoured weapon is the javelin.

Khrond- Trickery, Chaos, Air, Luck
Orcish folklore holds that it was the Chaotic Good deity Khrond the Weakling who was cleverest of the brutish Orc gods. His cunning saw him steal Gruunod the Iron Lord's eagle shape, evade punishment and manipulate the lesser orcish gods against each other to cover his tracks. The orcs who rebelled against Polyrand claimed to have been guided by his hand, and many of their descendants follow his commandments- outwit the tyrannical, gull the domineering and challenge fate itself. His favoured weapon is the light flail. As Krone the Quick, he is worshipped as a protector of the sly and enterprising in human settlements. Many of Krone's followers do not even acknowledge his connection to the orc-blooded, and some half-orcs venerate Khrond and Krone as brothers even though they are one and the same. Khrond is also worshipped by humans throughout the Brasslands.

Ladost- (Strength, Protection, War, Community)
The dispassionate True Neutral goddess Ladost is invoked by chieftains in the Brasslands to protect their tribes in times of peace and by warriors and barbarian captains ensure victory on the field of battle. Brasslanders have carried worship of Ladost into the Silver Kingdom, although few others venerate her there. Her favoured weapon is the scimitar.

Meneki- (Law, Repose, Knowledge, Healing)
Brasslander justice seems brutal and uncivilized to those under the protection of the Silver Kingdom, but those tribes who have passed on the Lawful Neutral teachings of the first judge Meneki by word of mouth for generations beg to differ. Meneki takes great interest in the wellbeing of his followers, and is thought to control life and death for those under his rule. It is said that Meneki can gaze into the past to assay a dying man's character and deeds and determine the path he takes in the afterlife. The future is not unknown to Meneki either, and he can foretell all the virtues and misdeeds a person will ever perform at the very instant of their birth. For this reason, Meneki is considered a protector and educator of youths in the Brasslands. His favoured weapon is the Greatclub.

The Peasant Gods
Barand the Smith (Fire, Artifice (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/divine/domains.htm#artificeDomain), Law, Earth)
Barand the Smith is a Lawful Neutral god of crafts, wealth, diligence and skill. He is a patron of craftsmen, collectors and antiquarians. He rewards honest toil and feats of great skill. His favoured weapon is the warhammer. Dwarves call him Borodan Steelfather, and as Baradad he is worshipped by many hardworking gnomes.

Lorgeyr the Fisherman (Water, Protection, Travel, Good)
Lorgeyr the Fisherman governs the inland waterways and those who make their living on them. He is a melancholic god, given to introspection and reflection. His followers aspire to be inquisitive, considerate of others and helpful to those in peril. His favoured weapon is the longspear. A few elvish and lightfoot hermits revere him as the reclusive god Loodyr. Underground streams and most springs and natural wells are the preserve of a dwarven and gnomish deity named Londes, who has much in common with Lorgeyr.

Gordrum the Hunter (Animal, Chaos, Strength, Good)
Gordrum the Hunter, a Chaotic Good deity, is the strongest and most courageous of the peasant gods. As their self-appointed protector, he uses all his wits to seek out and destroy evil things that dwell in dark places, and urges his followers to do the same. His favoured weapon is the longbow. Many elves given to the art of war and the thrill of the chase identify him as Gollodyn Fireheart, and certain halfing wanderers attempt to emulate his acts of bravery.

Midiasc the Ploughman (Sun, Plant, Protection, Good)
Midiasc the Ploughman is the patron of farmers and those who make their living from the land. He smiles upon those who make responsible use of their property, live frugally and exercise thrift and temperance. His favoured weapon is the scythe. The gnomes also worship him, primarily as a bringer of fertility to the wild groves and orchards of the gnomish Graviates. In their tongue he is named Midaas.

Sirilane the Weaver (Artifice (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/divine/domains.htm#artificeDomain), Magic, Repose (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/divine/domains.htm#reposeDomain), Good)
Sirilane the Weaver governs many different arts and sciences, including magic. Additionally, she cares for the souls of the departed and ensures their passage into the afterlife. Her priests often officiate at funerals and maintain burial sites. She demands that the dead be allowed to rest in peace, and rewards cunning and creativity. Her favoured weapon is the dagger. Elves were her earliest followers, and their funeral procedings typically include prayers and offerings to Sirilane the Raven Queen.

Keles the Herbalist (Plant, Healing, Magic, Good)
Keles the Herbalist knows all that there is to about the secrets of healing and plants. She commands her followers to study the healing arts for the benefit of others, respect the power of nature, exercise mercy, be compassionate and use knowledge as a tool for good. Her favoured weapon is the sickle. Her worshippers include halfings, gnomes and frequently, elves. In the elvish tongue she is Celest Brightleaf, and to gnomes, Kaal Well-Fare-Thee.

Tranchke the Brewer (Knowledge, Community (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/divine/domains.htm#communityDomain), Law, Good)
Tranchke the Brewer is the goddess of communal gatherings, sharing, mediation and communication. She hosts the gatherings of the peasant gods, as her priests and laity do in the mortal world. Her followers seek to prevent conflict through discussion where possible and rally people to protect and serve their community. Her favoured weapon is the mace. Dwarves worship an even-tempered goddess named Tanakay the Wise who is commonly identified with Tranchke.

Mersilbe the Muse (Charm (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/divine/domains.htm#charmDomain), Liberation (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/divine/domains.htm#liberationDomain), Chaos, Good)
Mersilbe is said to be the fairest of the gods. She is the Chaotic Good patron of creativity, youth and mirth. Her followers hold that joy is the highest good, and that all living things should be free from misery and hardship. Her followers seek out the sources of pain and suffering in the world in the hope that they can make it a better place. Her favoured weapon is the quarterstaff. The gnomes worship her as Mirse, as do the elves.

Neighbours of the Silver Kingdom
The tiny nation of Pirilin lies nestled in the Slatespine Mountains to the west of the elven lands. In the Silver Kingdom, Pirilin is regarded with awe and curiosity, due to its mysterious past, exotic exports and the strange mystics who rule it. Wealthy Menedians enjoy luxuries like herbal medicines, tea, laudanum, silk cloth and spices purchased from Pirileen trade caravans. However, Pirilin is most famous for its warrior monks.
Before the Foundation Wars, Pirilin and its environs were ruled by a number of warlords famed for their cruelty and brutality. Pirileen mercenaries fought under the banner of Lurtach the Vile, and famously sacked the Elven city of Telunis, stripping it of every ounce of worth and selling its every one of its inhabitants into slavery. This was until the teacher Lu Shen, the vizier to a particularly notorious warlord, retreated into the mountains and developed his famed technique that unified stillness of mind with bodily strength and clarity of purpose. His students, upon mastering the technique, began their own schools of thought. As depredations by greedy warlords increased, Lu Shen's disciples gathered in fortified monasteries and developed their famous martial art. Peasants began relying on nearby abbots, rather than warlords, for protection, providing the monks with food and services in return.
The monasteries eventually managed to completely undermine the warlords and their petty kingdoms, although some, like the Temple of Iron Patience, were tyrannical themselves. The Pirileen nobility remains to this day, although they are largely powerless and function much like merchants and guildmasters do in the east.
A conclave of abbots held around 900 years ago sent Pirilin into virtually complete isolation from the outside, and the infamous Pirileen passed into legend. It was not until the invasion of Polyrand the Wicked that the Silver Kingdom came into contact with Pirilin again.
Pirileen monks often wander the Silver Kingdom in search of tests and challenges. A few, like Jen Mi of the Blue Lotus Way, have become famous adventurers, renowned in song and legend. Not all Pirileen monks were born in the mountains; a small number hail from the east, having trekked to the mountains and later returned to their homelands.

Further east lie the Brasslands, once the territory of the mighty emperor Polyrand. After the fall of Polyrand's empire, it was split by many warring factions into a constantly shifting patchwork of tribal lands, kingdoms and fiefs. Menedians view the Brasslanders as warlike savages more akin to beasts than men, however a number of these so-called barbarians have achieved fame and fortune through their exploits.
The Brasslands are a forbidding place, full of thick forests, desolate moors and misty hills. Bands of orcs, ogres and trolls make their home here, and many Brasslanders are themselves part orc. The restless dead stalk the countryside, raised by Polyrand's magicians to bolster his ranks in the desperate final days of his reign. Legends speak of shapeshifters who are neither wholly beast or man, while telll others of folk who are descended from the unpredictable genies and fiendish things too terrible to even contemplate.
Strangely, many Lightfoot families have traditionally ventured into the Brasslands to trade, and these Halflings are often conversant in the barbarian pidgin tongue used throughout it. In fact, the legendary Halfling thief Poriten's closest ally was a towering halforc named Murroki, who started out as a hired caravan guard. Other Brasslanders have found their way into the Silver Kingdom as mercenaries, trackers or on shamanic quests.

[Hairb]

I won't be a total nazi about this, but I'd like a certain format for posting to make things easy to read. Blocks of coloured text give me the pip, I've discovered, but hopefully this format will be easy to use and read. Let's take a peek at what Iauk, the half-orc thief:



Iauk came to a stop and hissed "Wait here. I'll check the door." then crept up to the closed door. After spending a moment inspecting it for traps, he gingerly pressed his ear up against it and listened.

Move Silently:
1d20+5
Search:
1d20+6
Listen:
1d20+9

Obviously, if I find a trap, I won't risk setting it off just to listen at the door. BTW, does failing Disable Device checks set off the trap?


Iauk and his party (the Minstrels of Armatier, at your service) run into an irate bugbear (in square D4) later down the track. While Lamond the elvish swordsman holds it at bay (in square D3), Iauk (in square B3) tries to engage it with a punch dagger to the kidneys...


Iauk snuck around the creatures flank, giving its flailing morningstar a wide berth. Sighting an open chink in the beast's armour, he drove his punch dagger into it's exposed back. "How's that feel?!" he snarled.

Move to D5 via B5. Because of my Mobility feat, I get a +4 bonus to AC against attacks of opportunity I provoke in C5 and D5.
Attack (punch dagger) including flanking bonus:
1d20+4
For confirming criticals:
1d20+4
Damage
1d4+1
Crit damage
2d4+1
Sneak Attack
1d6


In that example, letting me know about the feat wasn't necessary, but a helpful reminder anyway. Roll your critical confirmation roll and damage to save you having to do it later if you do roll a threat.

[Hairb]

This story begins at the Northern Gate of Lorhain, a major town in the Barony of Armatier that sits on the nexus of trade routes from the Mistholds, the southern plains and elvish princedom of Arc Melene and, most importantly of late, Greater Langtier.

The town's social fabric has been in chaos for weeks, as waves of travellers head off for the troubled north and refugees, outlaws and deserters for the baron's army flee the other way. In almost any tavern, sullen folk claiming to be "of the north" offer stories and advice in exchange for drinks or coppers, although few of them can offer anything above and beyond the thousands of tales and rumours already spreading through the town. Many moneylenders have shut up shop, knowing that a man could disappear into the city like a pebble into sea, never to be seen again. Finding a place to stay is almost impossible; tenements and flophouses are overflowing, innkeepers have found themselves able to charge whatever they like and still be turning people away of an evening, and a number of enterprising folk have converted barns and warehouses into dormitories. Hundreds more sleep rough every night.

Getting out to Armatier and into Langtier is risky. Bandits and outlaws have always been common in the north, but the threat they pose now is impossible to ignore. As always, safety rests in numbers. Some shrewd merchants have started paying travellers' food and board in exchange for travelling with their caravan; it's cheaper than hiring bodyguards.

A fat merchant in Lorhain is headed north with a wagonload of grain destined for the mills of Langtier, and wants some extra people in his group for the trip to the market town of Ormoil. At 3 silver pieces a day, the man's pay isn't great, but it will make your expedition into the kingdom's north a little more comfortable.

The man and his four sons arrive at the gate at 8 bells, and already you and a crowd of others have gathered just inside the gates. He casts an eye over the group and picks you and five others from the crowd.

"Three stallions a day, and that's all I'm paying. If the innkeeper charges us more, then that's coming out of your pocket, not mine. Sound fair? I don't care if some fellow offered you twice that last week, there's plenty here who want the place if you don't."

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

As the merchant inspected the ragtag crowd Behlan pulled at the hood of his battered cloak, shielding his eyes (and the slight hangover he was nursing) from the sun. He grinned at the man's final choices, presumably he looked cheap, and carefully swung his pack onto his back. He didn't even pause to think about the offer; he was going north and now someone was willing to pay him to do it.

"Good enough," he said cheerily as he stepped forward. "You've got a deal."

So what if the money wasn't great, he thought as he smiled widely at the merchant, it was clear from the man's girth that he could afford to have a few coins liberated from him on the way.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Vespe watched as the merchant gazed at the crowd, and grew nervous. He had certainly overstayed his welcome in this town, and this...WONDERFUL trader came just in the knick of time...not that there had been much of a choice for Vespe in the first place. The alternative, staying here, was a rather unpleasant idea. He re-adjusted his pack, ran his hands through his hair, and began tapping his foot anxiously.

When the merchant's hand pointed at him, he rushed through the masses and gave a salute to his new employer, followed by vigorously shaking the man's outstretched hand and, as if making a sales pitch, quickly exclaimed "You've made an excellent choice sir, and I guarantee you will not be disappointed. My name is Vespe Ratavo and may I say it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm a skilled diplomat, negotiator, barterer, salesperson, all-around general troubleshooter, entertainer, and something of a translator, although I'm afraid I can only speak Common, Elvish and Orc, is that a problem?" Vespe allowed approximately one tenth of a second for the man to respond before continuing.

"I understand your concern, sir, but I'll have you know I am also a trained bodyguard, well versed in arts of the martial variety, so fear not for the safety of you and your..." Vespe took a quick look at the trader's sons- "sons. Your...wonderful...sons. Of course..." he mumbled, his smile quickly disappearing.

With renewed eagerness, he asserted "Well, without further ado, I'm ready to leave whenever you're ready, sir. No sir, no further business in this town, I'm ready to leave soon...whenever you say..."

He looked left, then right, then whispered "You know, if we leave as soon as possible, we can miss the worst of the bandits. They're a lazy lot, they are. Just a thought, sir.

[aliron]

Aliron sighed and tugged at the bottom of his glove. "No sense in staying in this overcrowded cesspool much longer," he stated to the merchant, peering obliquely at the party. "This lot would be as good as any other." He leaned in closer and, with a slight grimace, intentionally whispered loud enough for everyone else to hear, "You can't trust anybody these days," and patted some dust off his own shoulder. He continued to tidy himself, tightening his cloak while circling the wagons as if to inspect them.

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

Seeing the merchant look his way and give him a nod, Derel lifted his pack to go and join the others chosen.

"What d'you reckon to this lot"? he mumbled to the raven perched precariously on his shoulder, what with it being almost one third the size of his small frame itself.
"Should be alright as long as tubby doesn't sit on you" she cawed back just loud enough for those around them to hear, but not loud enough for any of the travelling companions to notice.

Supressing a laugh, Derel walked up to the merchant, shook him by the hand and greeted him with the words "you made a smart choice today boss".

[The_JJ]

Rafe

Rafe taps his forehead in a quick salute of acceptance. He has no doubt that his chainmail and shield influnced the merchants decision. He had been about to volenteer his services as a cleric, but he was not about to complain. As he intruduced himself to the merchant he wondered if the man even noticed the holy symbol hanging from his swords pommel.

[Cyranojoe]

Groj

Groj nodded brusquely, acknowledging his name as he stepped forward. The grim look on his face shifted to -- well, still grim. Three stallions wasn't much, but the idea that he'd waste it on an inn was a laugh. He'd have to share that with his friends back home... eventually.

Something like a smile flickered in the recesses of the ranger's eyes as he surveyed the trio of elves (no, one's a half-breed...), but his jaw twitched at the sight of the staff-wielding lightfoot and his ratty black bird. Gonna have to watch the posse more n' the road. Still, the -- cleric? paladin? -- didn't seem to be ready to run off with half a dozen saddlebags at a moment's notice like the others. The first elf, now circling the wagons, was as obvious as could be, while the other pointy-ear, the one with the banjo strapped to his back, was still trying to extract his lips from moneybag's asscheeks.

Grojimar looked back at the crowd still milling about and glaring at the lucky chosen. He pointedly clicked his pony closer, yanked his battered halberd out of it holster straps, and sauntered not-so-casually up to the largest and meanest-looking of them, slammed the butt of his weapon on the ground, and bellowed in the man's face: "AWRIGHT! Yew heard the man! Get yer asses in gear and clear out -- jes' like yer momma, bossman ain't got no use f'r ya, n' neither do I. 'F I see any yer faces again, ye'll be wishin' yew were a Brasslander's b****, that's a ga-ron-tee! Now git!!"

Staring the much larger man in the eye wasn't easy, but Groj just pictured his elder sister -- Screw you, Tanisha -- and nothing before him seemed remotely threatening. Finally, the man broke away, then waved at his cronies to join him. The rest of the crowd seemed to deflate at once, and many began to pick up their belongings and leave.

Groj casually reached over to his pony and flipped open the old leather saddlebag, extracting a carrot. His newly-shaved chin itched, but he did not scratch. The pony nipped at his fingers and he leaned his bulk on the halberd, not noticing the merchant and his man's reappraisal of their selection.

[Hairb]

"Yea'll do, you lot. Throw yer kit onto Arne's wagon there, if you feel like it." The merchant indicates the wagon driven by his eldest son, a thoughtful looking fellow of about 25 who's been appraising the crowd the whole time.

The merchant speaks to the rest of the crowd, who have started turning disappointedly away. "If you're looking to head north still, I hear the Baron made another order of grain only yesterday. Best of luck!" He climbs aboard the last of three wagons, and shouts to Arne to lead the way. The second wagon, larger than the first and pulled by a pair of oxen, is driven by two twin boys no older than 19 and follows the first out of the city. The last one is of a similar size, and in addition to the merchant, bears his youngest son, a nervous looking beanpole of a child.

"Spread out around the wagons. We'll look a little better organised than if you hang about like a gaggle o' geese," the merchant says, "And for the sake of holiness, keep up!"

I'll need to know where each of you is positioned in the convoy: near the front, the back etc. I also need to know what gear you're putting on Arne's wagon, and how fast you can move per round.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Breathing a sigh of relief, Vespe removed his backpack, opened it, and removed two small pouches from it, which he affixed to his belt. He then set the pack in Arne's wagon, nestled in in with the wagon's other contents.

Money and wool secure, and with a large burden off of him (in more ways than one) Vespe took a place in the middle of the caravan, happily tapping the ground with his walking stick (and idly wondering if he was correct about the local bandits being late sleepers) as he followed the wagons out of the city.

To clarify, my spell component and money pouches are now attached to my belt. The reference to wool is due to the fact that, interestingly, wool is the only material component I need at the moment.

My "walking stick" is actually my quarterstaff, and therefore my quarterstaff is readied in case of combat. My rapier, lute, spell component pouch, and money pouch are all being carried on my person. I'm already wearing the leather armor, in case that wasn't clear.

My current position is to the right of the second wagon, and since my pack and everything in it is in the wagon, my movement rate increases to 30 feet, and I take no penalty on Hide, Jump, etc. (I would reflect this on my sheet, but I'd probably end up messing it up somehow :smalltongue:)

I'd also like to go ahead and make a Bardic Knowledge check to see if I actually DO know anything relevant about the local bandits.

[roll0]

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan looked around at his traveling companions with interest as he made his way to the front wagon. His attention, however, was quickly caught by the Halfling or, rather, the disproportionately large Raven perched on his shoulder.

Turning to the wagon he nodded to the young man, presumably Arne, in friendly manner before tossing his pack into the back. "Cheers."

He stretched his arms back and sighed in relief as he turned back to the others. "I think we can trust each other." He smiled.

Watching the enthusiastic young elf (Vespe was it?) take up position at the middle wagon Behlan stepped after him. The last thing he wanted was to end up spending hours having to walk next to the pompous man with the pony, and Vespe at least seemed entertaining.

As he made his way to the wagon he passed the Halfling and his Raven, unable to resist any longer, Behlan stepped over to the pair. "Cool bird," he said by way of greeting. Closer to the bird he was even more impressed. "Does it talk?" he asked eagerly, reaching forward incautiously to touch the Raven.

Everything in Behlan's pack is now in the wagon, so that everything except weapons and ammunition. He's taken up position near the middle and walks at 30ft per round

[Hairb]

I think I'll list information gleaned from knowledge checks and the like in order from most to least commonly known:
It is common knowledge that those on the run from the law often flee to nearby forests, caves, hills, or sometimes even ruins, abandoned mine workings and the like. The outlaws prey on travellers, holding them up for their goods, attacking their encampments after dark or sometimes kidnapping them and ransoming them off.
Stories of daring "bandit kings" are quite common. Some are popular folk heroes, while others are feared and hated. Their reputation often leads to their capture, so the stories of these men and women typically outlive the bandit kings themselves.
Bandits often work together, although attacks by lone highwaymen are not unknown either. As they are often poorly skilled and underequipped they almost solely attack soft targets, and use ambush tactics calculated to achieve maximum effect with minimum outlay of ammunition.
The most famous group of outlaws in the kingdom's north are in the service of a man known as Bael Bracain, who claims to be the heir to the Barony of Salanter. His territory lies far to the west, however.

[The_JJ]

Rafe

Rafe nods and tosses his whole pack into the wagon, though he wouldn't really have minded carrying it on the march. Almost as an afterthought he snatches his pouch from the top of his backpack. As the wagons begin to move Rafe settles in to the front, eyes wide open.


I'm down to my chainmail, sheild, spell component pouch, holy symbol, and longsword. Oh, and his signal whistle. That's a 15 ft. movment speed I think.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

"C'mon, Human," Grojimar muttered to his pony. "Looks like this train's a-movin already." Human whinnied, searching Groj's fingers for leftover carrot as he was slowly led to the front of the caravan. The ranger calmly took in each of the wagons, animals, and drivers, until he reached the cleric, whose wide-eyed gaze and active, open stance provided a striking counterpoint to Groj's narrow-beam stare and closed, crossed-arm position.

"We might as well be friendly. You a cleric r' a paladin?" Groj asked through the chew he'd begun working over. Groj mused over Rafe's response, then continued the conversation in slow spurts, first offering his name ("Call me Groj. M' from hereabouts.") and asking him about his purpose and what he thought they should be most concerned about. "Round here, it's the organized ones what matter. Random crooks ain't gonna be a problem, 'specially not f'r you n' me."

As the conversation dies down after 20-30 minutes, Groj will give his farewell ("Ah prefer to ride wit th' back. Look like you c'n hold th' front.") and mosey back to the back of the caravan, where he'll make friends with the youngest son using casual talk about how his pony is named Human and how that means the animal will walk into the house with you...

Should I roll for Diplomacy with the young boy? I have it part of Groj's character that he gets along with children, but I don't know if you want to make it a dice-based situation or not.

After his convo with Rafe, Groj will move to the back of the caravan and keep a careful eye out for ambush locations. He'll also think about what he knows about the local area, geography, and nature.

Roll for Spot of the wagons, horses, and people (or should that be search?): [roll0]
Roll for Listen of the wagons and people, in case there are NPC convos he can overhear: [roll1]

Roll for Spot of possible ambushes(or should that be search?): [roll2]
Roll for Knowledge - Nature: [roll3]
Roll for Knowledge - Local: [roll4]
Roll for Knowledge - Geography: [roll5]

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj loosely ties Human to the front corner of the last wagon, so the animal -- which will often wander off and return on its own, thinking itself and independent human rather than a beast of burden -- can free itself during an attack.

Most of Groj's gear is on his pony. He's carrying his halberd, dagger, and shortbow with arrows, as well as his backpack and his waterskin. I don't think my sheet is calculating correctly right now -- I think I have 58.5 lbs on him, so he's just over the light load. If an attack occurs, Groj will drop his backpack where he stands or toss it into the wagon if it's still moving and be at full speed (30?).

[aliron]

Aliron

Aliron made his way to the front of the caravan and pulled on the straps of his backpack to leverage the weight with his hands. "No sense to adding fuel to a potential fire," he said bluntly.

Noticing the merchant's quizzical expression, he said, "Don't worry though, I'm sure if we're ambushed they won't set fire to the wagons first. No use in running into the clanking wall here just for ash," nodding at Rafe.

"They'll burn them after they're done with us. Come on you metal parapet of tortoise stroll! Put some spry in your step. Slow and steady does not win the race" he said, hopping onto the wagon and hopping off on the other side.

Front of the wagons, 30 feet with everything in pack, I believe.

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

With the merchants words Derel hoisted his pack and started to walk with the convoy. His plan was to wait until everyone took their prefered positions and then slot himself between the two most metal covered individuals.

As he was walking the Half-Elf came up besides him and commented on Braan.
About to show him that she could indeed talk the Elf then made the rather foolish mistake of trying to touch her.

Through their empathic bond Derel sensed a rush of annoyance at the hand coming towards Braan and with loud caw she bit his finger.

"Sorry friend, she prefers if you ask her permision before you go groping her" Derel told Behlan, half sincerely half amused, as he moved to the other side of the wagons, setting himself up halfway between the Cleric in the front and the shouty nutjob in the back.
As he moved Braan called to the Half-Elf "by the way yes I can talk, and next time you try to pet me it'll be your nads instead of your finger".

I am keeping my pack because it doesn't affect my speed or spells as it is a light load. I have my spell components pouch, sling with bullets, and my quarterstaff on my person. This means I move at 20ft and am positioned with the middle cart on the opposite side to Vespe.

As for Braan attacking Behlan I don't think initiative is needed because it was a suprise attack, which means it goes against his flat footed AC. Also because she was just trying to make him pull back his hand she would only do nonlethal damage.
Braan attack = (1d20+4)=17. Braan damage = (1d2+2)=3 (nonlethal)

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan pulled his hand back sharply as the bird bit at his fingers.
"Sorry," he said, his tone both apologetic and disappointed.

His eyes widened as soon as the bird started talking, though it took a moment for it's words to sink in. Once they had Behlan threw his head back, his hood falling to his neck with the sudden movement, and started laughing.

He looked back to the bird and, speaking directly to it, said enthusiastically, "really cool!"

He turned back to his position with the wagons and he tried to shake the pain out of his finger as he took stock of their surrounding.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Now at the end of the group, Groj muttered to Human, "Keep yer eyes on them up front, 'specially the boy," gesturing to the sorcerer. Groj squeezed his fists, cracked his knuckles slowly. "Ah'll watch fer the fellas from back in town."

Most likely gonna get jumped by the folks they didn't pick, he thought. Idjits f'r making sech a scene about pickin' their crew like that. They was fixin' to jump us then n' there, too, no chance to move 'r fight back.

He continued to work over his chew, his cold blue stare freezing soldiers and peasants alike as the caravan made its slow way out of Lorhain's immediate environs.

[The_JJ]

Rafe
Rafe nods at Groj. His right hand drifts to his sword, and then to the holy symbol hanging from it. "Yeah, I'm a cleric to Larusel. Newly initiated though, I spent a lot of time out in the Brasslands. I'm Corp- uh, just Rafe now." His accent is a bit weird, obviously attempting to mimic the upper class diction, but it keeps sliping into something from the eastern edge of the Silver Kingdom.

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

"Ha, I think you made a friend" Derel said to Braan.

"He should be so lucky" she replied. "And remember your supposed to be guarding this thing so keep you eyes open".

"Alright alright. Tell you what why don't you go take a birds eye view". He smirked as he made this last comment.

"Y'know that gets funnier every time you use it Shortstack" replied Braan as she took off to fly over the middle wagon, near to Derel.

Ok so now I'm actively watching for anything that might be a threat, as is Braan. Rolls are as follows.
Derel Spot - [roll0]
Derel Listen - [roll1]
Braan Spot - [roll2]
Braan Listen - [roll3]

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Vespe had grown bored. Tapping his walking stick against the ground was fun to begin with, and the ordeal with almost striking a pebble had jarred him, but all the same it was rather dull.

During the journey so far, Vespe had been mulling over his traveling companions, and in particular who would be the most fun to chat with. The trader and his sons wouldn't be interested in chatting with their discount bodyguards. The man in chain mail didn't seem very jovial at the moment. The other elf seemed rather blunt, and frankly not very nice. The big guy carrying the warhammer was rather intimidating. The halfing seemed nice enough, but he and his bird seemed busy looking for...something.

That, of course, left the half-elf. He certainly seemed like a...a...gregarious (right, that was the word, he thought) sort, and definitely the least likely to smash his skull or turn him into a frog or something.

Vespe walked over to Behlan. Hello! My name's Vespe. Vespe smiled very sincerely as he said this. What's yours?

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan smiled and reached out to Vespe with his unbitten hand as the elf introduced himself. "Behlan," he said cheerfully in reply. "I couldn't help over hearing your introduction. Bad habit, I know," he added unapologetically, not that Vespe had been particularly quite about it. "Pretty impressive stuff."

He turned and looked around the road they were travelling on, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary, though he was still speaking as he did, "I also couldn't help noticing the lute." He grinned back over his shoulder. "So, do you know any decent songs?"


[roll0]

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

"Of course!" Vespe removed his lute. The instrument was rather battered and old-looking, and seems to have some small pieces of wood missing. "Now...if I can just remember..." He took a minute to tune it, then started to play.

[roll0]

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

Intelligence check to see if Derel knows the tune Vespe is playing [roll0] Higher than his perform so I'll assume I passed.

Derel heard the music coming from the other side of the wagon he was standing next to. After a few seconds he realised that he knew the tune the Elf was playing. It was a popular travelling song he had heard a couple of times. Not the best rendition in the world**, but maybe that was just because it was early and the singer was still tired.

More enthused for the journey thanks to the music Derel called to the bard
"Not bad friend, keep it up and we might actually make it north without dying of boredom".

After a few more bars Derel started to whistle along with the song.

**Not the best rendition is not meant as mean, but based on this (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/skills/perform.htm) a perform roll of 13 is only a routine performance.

[Hairb]

The six of you march onwards at an easy walking pace towards the border under an overcast autumn sky. The road is empty, and nobody hears or sees anything as you pass neat, well maintained fields and small thickets. The low hills in the distance gradually draw a little nearer as the dull sun climbs higher and higher.

Rafe
Keeping your position in the convoy is absolutely exhausting. After four hours, you feel utterly fatigued and worn out.

Derel
Flying above the wagons, Braan can see the the road continue roughly northward, crossing a river about 12 miles north from here. Keeping up with the big fellows and the carts requires you to keep a brisk pace but nothing overly strenous.

Groj
"It's a nice pony." says the boy, whose name seems to be Milto. Aside from that, he isn't terribly excited by your animal. He seems to be mostly listening to his father go on for hours about the finer points of the grain trade: how to spot a good deal and avoid a bad one, recognising spoiled produce and how best to cut your losses when you have some, a few unusual methods of pest extermination and the like. Milto listens to his father obediently, who makes no efforts to include you in the conversation.

A halt is called around noon, as the convoy passes the ruins of a stone structure. The circle of stone remanents indicates a round building about 30ft in diameter once stood here. The three older boys unhitch the animals one by one and lead them to drink rainwater from a cistern formed out of the rubble while Milto and his father take shelter from the wind's chill in the ruins.

Braan's "attack" on Behlan probably hurt, but not enough to deal even nonlethal. I'm assuming everyone's on the lookout, so no need to keep rolling spot and listen checks.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan had listened happily to Vespe play as they walked, tapping in time to the music against the hilt of his sword once the pain in his fingers died down. The tune was nice. Nothing special, but then expecting someone to produce a virtuoso performance at the drop of hat, while walking though notorious bandit country, was a bit much.

The walk itself was relatively pleasant, especially with Vespe impromptu entertainment, and by the time they stopped Behlan was feeling fine, his headache having cleared sometime earlier, if a little thirsty.

He wandered to the first wagon, as the merchant's sons took care of the animals, and hauled his pack down from where he'd left it earlier, quickly rummaging through it for his waterskin. He pulled it free and knocked back a few mouthfuls as he eyed his travelling companions. The quieter of the two humans, the one who'd decided to walk up front, was looking a little worse for wear, he noted.

Behlan thrust he waterskin towards the man."Um," he started, realising he had no clue what the guy's name was, he shrugged and continued, "water?"

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

As the caravan comes to a halt, Groj mutters to Human, "Great place for an ambush, huh?" Noticing the merchants' boys leading the oxen to the cistern, he shakes his head. "And a great place to poison animals, too. Think they'll pay us if they get thesselves killed?" He doesn't move to stop them, though, and instead leans his halberd against a nearby stump and hefts his pack atop Human. He rustles through the bag, finally pulling out a scratched and dented tin flask.

"Here," he says to the horse, pouring water out of his own waterskin. "Ain't tainted with nuthin' but Lorhain's finest crapwater." The horse whinnies and snorts, looks longingly at the cistern 20 yards away, then lets his tongue lap up the offering.

After taking a gulp for himself, Groj stows his pack and halberd on the pony and pulls out his warhammer, which he straps to his back, and arms himself with his shortbow and arrows. Seeing Milto and his father enter the ruins, Groj grumbles, then yells, "Somebody watch the perimeter!" as he hustles after the departing clients.

They are SO getting kidnapped under our noses! :smallyuk:

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Vespe had noticed there was something strange about his performance - he probably missed a note or two, but the others seemed to enjoy it, so he felt there was no need to restart. As the wagons came to a stop, Vespe took his waterskin out of his pack and drank deeply. "This place seems familiar...ah well."

As he began to reach for a loaf of bread, Vespe was startled by Groj yelling for someone to watch the perimeter. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." he sighed and put the loaf back. Vespe walked towards the edge of the area, looking around for anything suspicious.

[roll0]
[roll1]

Also, I'd like to make another Bardic Knowledge check to see if this place used to be (or still is) anything relevant or interesting.

[roll2]

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

Setting down his pack and staff and calling Braan down Derel took a drink from his waterskin before offering it to her, she took a little bit and he stowed it again.

Hearing Groj's bellowed order Derel muttered to himself "who made the meatshield boss"? before wandering off to have a look around the ruins.

Braan on the other hand decided to take a break from flying, setting herself up on Derel's grounded pack, her keen eyes watching the others, particularly the quieter of the two elves, the one who had been inspecting the wagons before they'd set off.

Rolls incase he notices anything magical, you never know.
Knowledge Arcana (1d20+5)[17]
Spot (1d20+1)[21]

[Cyranojoe]

That's funny, I could have sworn I read a thread where Hairb told us not to bother with further spot checks, but now I can't find it. Thusly, as Groj runs off after the merchant and his son, he'll be looking for traps and potential dangers (including animals, poison ivy):

Spot = [roll0]
Listen = [roll1]
Knowledge: Nature (threats) = [roll2]

If these reveal nothing, he'll also do a scan for edible food items (as he's planning to be the camp cook if they don't have one):
Knowledge: Nature (food) = [roll3]

[aliron]

Aliron

Ignoring the others' abrogation of authority, Aliron sat on Arne's wagon and, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand, kept his gaze on the ruins. "We're stopping here? Every bard song about murderous elvish shades takes place at cursed ancient ruins and we're stopping HERE?" he muttered to himself, plucking at the string of his bow on his lap. "Do arrows hurt incorporeal elves...or just pass through them..." he absentmindedly wondered aloud before he yelled, "Hey you guys don't split up!"

[Cyranojoe]

Aliron pointed out it's probably Survival for that food hunt:
Survival = [roll0]

[Kobold-Bard]

Braan

While watching the Elf, Braan heard him yell yell about not splitting up, and she said to herself "Why do all these idiots think shouting random orders at total strangers will work", with a twinge of annoyance. "Everyone is stupid but me".

"Oh, and shortstack you better bring me back something to eat or no-one's sleeping tonight" she cawed to no one in particular.

At that exact moment Derel felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, almost as if it were a warning.

[Hairb]

Groj

You are headed north, across the Orlister river that forms the southern border of Greater Langtier.
Ormoil is about a day's journey north of the crossing.

Vespe

Although you recall no specific lore about this place, a hymn written during the Foundation Wars tells that the armies of Larusel were pitted against many "towers and fastnesses built by heathen hand." This could easily be one of those.
Alternatively, the forces of the Wicked razed "towers and halls, of glory great" according to the Annals of the Silver Kingdom.

Derel

You recognise nothing magical or supernatural in or around the ruins.

[Cyranojoe]

Ormoil, Groj thought, scanning the ground, stone, and bushes for signs of animals, threats, and food all at once, we must be headin' t' Ormoil. I'm walkin' backwards, is what I am. His coarse mouth crinkled. Tanisha'd eat her face off 'f I jes' showed up again with this crew.

He glanced back, then shook his head. His sister would more likely just laugh at him, with this group. Frigging lightfoot stompin' 'round poking 'is nose inna this place like he could tell the diffr'nce 'tween a hole in the ground and his... as for the cleric, Groj could tell from this distance the man was panting heavily, leaning against the wagon as the one elf watched him drink from a waterskin. Maybe he wasn't as tough as he seemed?

The merchant's men... kids?... were still coaxing the oxen to drink from the potentially poisoned cistern, while the sneaky elf simply sprawled out in Arne's wagon. At least the fellow with the light sword was up and wandering the perimeter -- there was one guy doing his job!

The sneaky elf yelled something about not splitting up, which was funny. Groj spit out some of his chew juice. That was the bossman heading into the middle of these ruined stones, was he supposed to let 'em go alone?

A cold breeze shot past, snapping Grojimar's attention back to his employer.

[The_JJ]

Rafe

Eh. I'll be with you guys in a second. He sits down heavily when the merchent and his son stop looking. Phew. Too much time in the library I think. After he drinks for a little while he stands up and begins finds a nice spot where he can be a look out.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Seeing no immediate danger, Vespe began to ponder what this place could be. That hymn...it could have been a fortification for either side during the Foundation Wars. Then again, there was no real evidence. Without any formal knowledge of construction, history, or anything that could be mildly useful here, wild speculation seemed the only option. Doesn't matter, he thought, we'll probably be leaving here soon. It's only noon, that trader will probably march us a few more miles at least before we rest. Confident that if anything was out there, it wasn't going to bother them at the moment, Vespe returned to the wagon, retrieved a piece of bread and cheese, and ate his lunch.

A few moments later, Vespe decided that obviously, if there was anyone out there, they wouldn't be incredibly obvious about it while he was looking for them, now would they? He decided that the best course of action would be to sneak around the perimeter, looking for anything unusual. He said, to whoever was listening, "I'm going to go check around, come looking if I'm not back in five...no, ten minutes."

Vespe's still alert, but I'll stop rolling the look and spot checks. Vespe takes no weight penalty on Hide and Move Silently, since his pack is in the wagon.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan lent against the leeward side of one of the wagons, putting his waterskin back in his pack, and, for the most part, ignored the more vocally paranoid members of the group as they started randomly bellowing instructions. A sarcastic, "and just when I'd decided to wander off with my eyes shut, too," being the only indication that he'd been listening. Instead, he turned his attention to the remnants of the building that had once stood there and tried to recall if any of the stories he'd recently heard, over mugs of cheap ale, shed any light on the odd circular ruins. There could be all manner of interesting things hidden in those ruins, he speculated...

There could even be traps, left by some resourceful bandit.

Behlan sighed. The paranoia must be contagious, he thought, as he pushed himself away from the shelter of the wagon. It was at least an excuse to poke around a bit, might even find something exciting, he mused idly as he started to inspect the rubble.


[roll0]

[roll1]
-looking for traps, footprints, mystical rings of untold arcane power, anything out of the ordinary really.

[Hairb]

Behlan
"No water thanks, lad. I'm fine for now." The merchant gets up slowly with a grunt and heads for the wagons.

Your hunt for traps produces nothing. These ruins obviously see a lot of traffic, though. You find charcoal and ash from a few fires, some a few days old, some old animal bones and the like. Faint grafitti on the walls records names and dates- people have been coming here for decades at least.

Vespe
You hear the distant sounds of cow bells from the south, and there is an explosion of movement in the bushes on the other side of the road as a doe darts away into a thicket of trees.

Rafe
There's a tap at your shoulder. It's one of the twins, the one with the slightly crumpled right ear who does nine-tenths of all the talking out of the pair. "How are you holding up there, your holiness? Only Lem says you won't last the march to the Duskling Bridge under all that mail. I'd hate it if he were right."

Groj
Your search for food bears no fruit until you sight a small doe moving through the bushes across the road from the ruins. Hearing something, she pricks up her ears and darts away to the north and out of sight.

---

Your employer, having inspected the animals, gives a hoarse shout to form up around the wagon's. The sound of cowbells and the lowing of cattle approaches from the south.

[The_JJ]

Rafe
I suppose you're right. Want to help me out of this? After he throws his chainmail into the wagon next to his backpack. Sarge would've bawled me out for this.
30 seconds to take my armor off if I have help.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan briefly considered adding his own name to the collection of graffiti he'd found. He grinned, the idea appealing to him, but decided against it, no time after all, and instead wandered out of the ruins as the merchant called the group back together.

The first thing he noticed was the man by one of the wagons struggling out of his knitted steal. Behlan watched him for a moment before glancing down the road they'd just travelled along, the sound of cattle catching his attention.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

As he returned to the wagons, the sounds of a small kine of longhorns with several cowhands on horseback -- three? more? -- startled Groj for a moment before he relaxed, loosening his cowhide belt. Nah, cain't be them. We wouldn't run a drive this far south this time a' year.... Unless...

He shrugged. Beside him, the twin brothers were wrangling one of the oxen that was resisting his harness. "You boys work this road much a'fore? Which a ya is th' cookie?" he asked as he bent over to assist them with strong, experienced movements.

Though they didn't need any help -- the boys were managing just fine -- Groj waved the bard over with his free hand.

"Yeah, c'mon," he said, then pointed at a strip of leather just off one of the hooks. "Need ye t' grab that loop, yeah like that, and finish 'er off... yeah, ye git it." The elf's motions were graceful, if hesitant. Groj smiled a crooked smile, just containing a laugh before he slapped the elf on the shoulder in appreciation.

Leaving the twins to finish the harnessing, Groj nodded to the elf. "Saw ye watchin' th' borders -- good, tha's good f'r all of us. Jes' takes one blind eye ta git us all th' trouble we c'n handle. Name's Groj. You?" He extended a rough, dirty hand.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Disappointed that his sneaking came to naught, Vespe returned to the wagons, when the very big man waved him over, needing him to tie a knot or something. Vespe quickly tied the knot, mumbling under his breath in Orcish. I am NOT a ****ing *****, *** *******, and that ****** can ***** his own *****ing knot. Ah, Orcish. Such a very fun language to swear in. And all the new words... Vespe laughed as he remembered the time when he had to ask for his friend to explain exactly what that word meant...three times. And even then, he had to look it up in a book.

Vespe looked up, and listened. Cows?

Needs more cowbell. :smalltongue:

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

Finding nothing particularly interesting within the ruins Derel returned to where he had left his pack. After a brief arguement with Braan about lunch he gave her some bread and re-adjusted his pack on his shoulder. Picking up his staff he headed towards the wagons, where the merchant was calling the group in.

As he walked he caught the big human glaring at him as he and the singer tied up a cow. "What d'you think shouty's problem is"? he asked Braan, who was perched on top of his staff.

"Maybe he's magiphobic" she suggested

"He didn't seem to have a problem with the Cleric".

"Well I don't know, maybe he just plain doesn't like halflings" she replied. "Can't say I blame him neither" she said giving the raven equivalent to a smirk.

"Oy, watch it or I'll summon a bat for a familiar" he said jolting his staff up to displace her. (He was kidding of course, he would never replace her, and she knew it). She landed back down on the staff just as Derel reached the merchant.

"So, what's up boss man"?

[Hairb]

Derel
"We're moving on. I want to be across the Duskling Bridge before the day is out. We'll be lucky to make it at the rate we're going."

Groj
The young fellow looks taken aback for a split-second, and then shakes your hand. "I'm Lem" he mutters quietly, glancing over at his brother. "Excuse me. Lowe needs a hand." He heads over to where his brother is helping Rafe with his armour and stands there, looking over his shoulder.

As the merchant clambers up onto his cart, about a dozen cattle come up the road behind you, driven by a man on horseback. With him are four dogs, including a huge black Oemandiner wolfhound, hanging around the edge of the herd in a disciplined fashion. They become tense and agitated upon seeing you all, but the man utters a single sharp syllable and the dogs fall back towards him. From high up in his saddle, the man nods politely and raises a hand in greeting as he approaches the ruins.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj shook his head. He understood the bossman holding himself apart from the working men, but these kids were awfully skittish. And that elf, who'd seemed sharp for a second, had suddenly gone cold for no good reason, not even sharing his name or shaking his hand.

"Well?" he asked the bard, giving him a second opportunity to introduce himself.

Human, who was munching on a nearby patch of weeds off the edge of the road, whinnied in a laughing way, and snorted. As he did, the cows and their driver came into view, forcing Groj to shake his head again.

Three or four men? Ah, hells' bells -- how'd I confuse the sounds of one man and four dogs? Ah'm gettin' soft a'ready...

Seeing the cattle, smelling their musk and hearing their soft lowing, Groj felt it again. That twinge of homesick, like a howling wolf, or a bleating calf. To shake the sensation, he gave the driver a firm look... maybe Groj knew the man, maybe he'd know how things were going back home...

Is there anything I can roll to find out if Groj knows the cowman?

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

After staring for a moment at the approaching man and his cows (and dogs...Need to keep an eye on those dogs...) for a moment, Vespe snapped out of it, and abruptly noticed Groj extending his hand. "Oh, sorry, didn't see you there." He grabbed Groj's hand and shook it. "My name is Vespe Ratavo, entertainer and negotiator for hire. Not for hire right now, of course, but once we get to where we're going, if, you know, you need backup or something."

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan watched the cattle come into view and took a moment to admire the well trained dogs, especially the wolfhound, before stepping closer to the wagons. His only clear knowledge of cows being that they could be, very, messy and he didn't really want to be in their way.

He swung his pack from his shoulder and pulled out a small package of food as he lent against the wagon. Unwrapping the trail rations (dried fruit apparently; he'd never have pegged the mercenary he'd lifted them from to be so health conscious) as Vespe introduced himself to the loud man.

He chewed on a piece of apple as he readjusted his pack, before holding the package out to the pair. "Fruit?"

Behlan is carrying his pack, and all his equipment, again. Speed is still 30ft. Wasn't sure if you needed to know...

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

"Whatever you say" Derel replied to the merchant as he mounted the wagon.

He then turned his attention to the cattle and dogs that were passing by. He was understandably nervous, being three feet tall, a herd of cows can be more worrying than a manticore. Not that they weren't anything a few well placed magic missles wouldn't sort out, but still.

Turning away from the road Derel called to the group "okey-dokey, big boss said we need to get moving so if everyones finished playing around how's about we earn our pay" he said in his most salesman like voice.

"Oh what's your problem" he suddenly snapped at the large human as he turned to see him staring at him like Derel had just called his wife a sea hag.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj let himself another crooked grin. Damn him if elves just didn't make him laugh, whatever they did.

"Pleasure t' meetcha, Vesper -- izzat it? Cain't say I got much use f'r negotiatin', but if ye got a good voice, I'd appreciate a few good songs while we mosey our way north." He eyed the man's lute on his back, attempting to conceal his interest. "How many strings that thing got?"

His questions were interrupted, however, by the half-elf's offer of wax-paper-wrapped dried fruit. Groj shrugged amiably, said, "Sure, thank ye,", and took a small fistful. He spit the last of his chew to the side, then tossed the fruit into his mouth. Groj considered the taste and looked back at the cows and their driver. "Purty good, but ah'll have t' give ye some o' mah jerky... ye ain't lived till ye bit into that, an' it's bit right back, ah tell ye what!" Groj smiled again -- until the robed lightfoot waddled up to them.

"If everyone's finished playing around, how's about we earn our pay!" Groj gave the little weasel a glare, then turned his attention back to the passing herd.

"Ain' it jes' like 'em, act like they's in charge when they don't do a damn useful thing 't'all?" The ranger slapped the wagon behind him and continued, without shifting his gaze from the herd: "Boy, you see these wagons a-movin'? Nah, ye don't. An' till they move, ain't no reason f'r any of us t' git inna tissy. Th' boss -- th' real boss -- he'll move when 'e wants to, won't wait f'r us either way."

Groj held off from suggesting the halfling was better suited to following the cows with a shovel, in case the elves were sensitive to that sort of imagery.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan ducked his head in amusement when the self confessed jerky lover had the gall to complain about someone else ordering him around. "So, a hypocrite as well as a loudmouth," he said amicably.

He looked up, as if remembering the man in question was right in front of him, and smiled. "And I hope you don't speak Elvish, because I happen to like my teeth where they are." As if to emphasise the point his smile seemed to widen even further.

When he wasn't immediately knocked to the ground, Behlan switched to common and tried to introduce himself without insulting the man further. "Sorry," he began ambiguously, before gesturing vaguely with the small parcel of fruit he was still holding out to Vespe. "Didn't mean to interrupt you there."

"I'm Behlan, by the way. I don't think I have any jerky and I'm not nearly as skilled as Vespe here, but I get by." He reached out with his free hand. "I missed your name." And if I don't stop referring to you as the loudmouth I'm going to say it out loud again, he added mentally, in a language you understand.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj shrugged off the elf's foreign words, shaking his hand roughly. "Call me Groj -- thanks 'gain fer th' fruit, Behlan. Nuthin' t' innerup, though -- jes' lettin' a boy know the d'frence 'tween good advice what's practical, an' what's talkin' out yer ass." Groj scratched his head with his free hand; his dusky red hair needed a trim, he thought off-hand. "It's like when I yelled at you folks when we first stopped -- that was suggestin' ya keep our skins in one piece, jes' in case. But the boy here, he's tellin' us ta hurry up n' move -- jes' so we c'n do nuthin'!" Groj laughed, offering a smile to all but the lightfoot.

While the wagons remain unmoving, Groj looks over at the cleric, who's removed his armor and appears much the better for wear. "Hey! Rafe! C'mon over here, meet Behlan an' -- uh -- Vespe!" Aliron catches his eye as well, perched atop one of the lead wagons. He nods his head at the man, makes a small gesture waving him down to the group. "You too!"

Not sure I c'n trust that one, but better him 'n tha lightfingers...

If Aliron comes close enough to speak to, Groj offers: "Yer welcome, fella. M' Groj. Might as well do our intros while we're still waitin' f'r this wagon train ta move."

[The_JJ]

Rafe

Rafe stretches to enjoy his newfound mobility. Then he grabs his shield, and gives a longing look at his chainmail. Oh well, it's not like he was campaigning in the Brasslands. Time to meet the squad. Hello there, um Groj. Hello you guys. 'm, Rafe.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

"Oh, er, no thank you, I ate," Vespe said.

Seeing the group congregate, and how friendly they seemed to be, Vespe figured there was no point in continuing to advertise himself. "Hello, my name's Vespe." He stuck his hand out to shake Rafe's.

[Hairb]

As the man passes by, the weak sunlight gleams off the hilts of two swords strapped to his saddle. His heavily scarred face splits into a wide grin as he speaks. "Better get a move on. Storms in the south." It seems that he has been on the road for several days, as the beginnings of a thick auburn beard have started growing. "Take care, now."
After the man passes around the bend in the road, the merchant calls for the wagons to get under way, and you head on northwards.

Anyone observing the man and with ranks in Nobility, History or Bardic Knowledge should make a check. Anyone with ranks in Heal can make a check, too.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Vespe took a look at the man as he passed, trying to remember if, perhaps-

Oh, he thought, seems that'll have to wait. "Well, it's been nice meeting you all, but I guess the boss wants us to get moving," Vespe said, as he took his staff and returned to his place by the middle wagon.

[roll0]

Bardic Knowledge solves everything :smallbiggrin:

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

"Ah, see -- thar we go," Groj said as the wagons began moving again. He waves Vespe and any of the others who begin to split up, excepting Derel of course. "Hold up, tho, Vespee -- let's get arselves organized-like. We was doin' okay, jes think we should make sure we all got 'r dogies lined up right-way-like."

For the first time since he had his name called for the job, Groj's voice and body language are relaxed and open. "Rafe and me are our big guys, so we was holdin' the front and rear. Somebody with a good eye should stick with Rafe, I reckon, n' if any o' you figger to be a good tracker, ya might want to go ahead n' scout ahead -- that'd be right good if we could do that. Two n' two, wit' one scoutin? Yeah, that sounds good..."

"I ain't sayin' that's how it's gotta be, mind, it jes seems right. Any a you wanna do it dif'rnt?"


Holy crap, Vespe is 105 lbs on a 5'11" frame?!? Dude must be a skeleton! You sticking with that?

And yes, he's not counting Derel. :smalltongue:

Roll for Heal: [roll0]

[Vespe Ratavo]

"Sounds good to me, I'm not much of a tracker, though, so I think I'll stick with you."



Holy crap, Vespe is 105 lbs on a 5'11" frame?!? Dude must be a skeleton! You sticking with that?

I used a character generator to help me along with making Vespe and organize things a bit better, and that's what it came up with for his height and weight. I didn't really pay attention to it until now. Thanks for mentioning it :smalltongue:

EDIT: Ah, I see what happened, I added to the height without adding to the weight. Fixed.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan tucked what remained of his rations between his shirt and the padding of his armour, as the wagons started moving, keeping half an ear on what Groj was saying as he did.

The man seemed a bit more tolerable when he kept the volume down and the orders as suggestions. Plus, scouting ahead did sound sort of fun, even if travelling near the centre of the wagons would be relatively safer.

Behlan turned to the quiet elf in the dark cloak. "You want to take point, then?" he asked with a smile, "Or should I?"

Behlan will take up position at the front or middle of the convoy depending on Aliron's answer.

Woah, Vespe shrank! :smalltongue:

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

Not getting an answer from Groj Derel turned to look at the man passing by. Hearing the merchant's order he moved onto the road with the wagons, taking up his previous position next to the middle one.

"Well off you go feathers" he said to Braan. "And, keep an eye on thingy behind us would ya, I have this funny feeling that he doesn't like me" he said with a smirk. She gave a nod and took flight over the wagon.

"We'll see how much Loudmouth is smiling when we get to a toll point" Derel said to himself, remembering the rules on Halfling travellers.

Will there be a toll to cross the Duskling Bridge because making Groj pay would be funny.

[The_JJ]

Come on Vespe, it is fun on point. You are never the target in an ambush. O' *ahem* Of course, you do need to watch for pitfalls, but I doubt that is a problem out here.
Jackpot! :smallbiggrin:
Nobility [roll0]
History [roll1]
Heal [roll2]

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj wasn't sure which was better -- seeing the lightfoot slink off without a response, or having the rest of the crew approve of his suggestions.

He punched Vespe in the shoulder good-naturedly. "Ah like it. Stick wit' me, kid. Rafe's right, the action's on this end."

To the group as they dispersed, Groj said, "I'll holler if somethin' happens we gotta be obvious about -- otherwise y'all listen ta Vespe's playin'. Ya hear it change or get quiet all sudden-like, you c'n figure we spotted somethin' funny on our end."

At this, the last wagon, along with Human, caught up to their position, and Groj felt his pony's muzzle nudge his hand, leaving it slightly damp. "Yeah, yeah -- ev'rbody who cares, this is Human. Thinks e's a real person, so be careful, he'll eat yer chow and sleep in yer tent if ya ain't strict wit 'im." Groj reached back and gripped the horse's mane, tugging on it with with an affectionate grunt. "No, no... no more carrots f'r you till we bed down, now."

Vespe's probably the only one close enough to hear this last bit with the pony, but I thought it was worth sharing.

And definitely I'm looking forward to toll booths, whether the halfling gets jacked -- remember, the baron's supposedly taking away their tax-free rights -- or it gives Groj an opportunity to bitch and moan with everybody else who's getting taxed. Should be fun. :smallamused:

[aliron]

Aliron

"Sir Half Elf Half Thief, I know not the circumstances that led to your being, but you have to know that just because humans rule this land does not mean every one of them knows anything. From the looks of it, especially not that one," Aliron said, his eyes gesturing at Groj's direction.

"Of course, I trust you will give in to your higher Elven instincts instead of listening to people such as him when the situation presses for them."

"Enemies might come from the front, the sides, behind us, from above, or, like burrowing rodents, from under us by usurping control of our leaders and peers. But if some delusion of order will allow you to orient yourself better, I will take 'point.' Which way is that again, if we were to be ambushed from that side?" he asked, pointing to the right and making his way further in front of the wagons without waiting for an answer.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan bristled, for nothing other than the perceived insult to his human mother.

"If they came from the side, good sir," Behlan started with faux civility, as the stuck-up elf turned away. "Then "point" would be the position were the arrogant elf failed to see an impending ambush, what with his head being stuck up his own arse."

[The_JJ]

"The front would be the flank and thus very important." Rafe then recounts a famous battle in which this was the case. "... so you see, a sucessful roll back on a flank can chain its way along the front. It applies in everything from the individual to the strategic."

Should I roll? I assume with 4 ranks and a millitary background I'd know of a famous battle where this is the case.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

"Human, huh? Interesting name..." Vespe took out his lute and began to tune it again, while following Groj. "So tell me, did you name him that, or was he already like this when you first got him?"

I'm confused. Are Groj and Vespe at the front of the wagons, or the back? :smallconfused:

[Cyranojoe]

I'm confused. Are Groj and Vespe at the front of the wagons, or the back? :smallconfused:
Sorry, seems there's confusion for several folks -- Groj was offering to continue to hold the back point, as he had been doing, and I presume Vespe is still willing to join him. Rafe agreed to return to the lead wagon with a fourth person. And the fifth person would take point -- as in, scout a reasonable distance ahead, not just join the lead wagon. Groj didn't mention Derel, but the assumption was probably that he'd return to the middle of the group.

Y'all are welcome to have your characters interpret what he said in whatever way you think would make sense to them, of course! Sorry if he was unintentionally confusing...

I'm looking forward to learning more about that guy who passed us by...
Grojimar

"Folks back home called 'm that," Groj said. "He was a right pain inna ass, too -- actually would try ta get inna tha house when ya was at dinner, wouldn't stick wit tha rest o' tha ponies... Yeah, he ain't willin' ta do what e's supposed ta; jes' don't know where he belongs."

Groj smirked. "Which is why they stuck me with 'im."

[Vespe Ratavo]

"Ah, interesting..." Vespe began to wonder to himself why a horse would consider itself...well...human. Wait...can wizards turn people into horses? I mean, if they can turn people into frogs...I wonder where the rest of them goes when that happens...best not to think about it, probably.

"So anyway, tell me, how'd you get into all of this? I mean, why did you decide to come along with this trader guy, anyway?"

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

The beefy man twisted up his lips. "Him? Naw, this is jes' a job. Gotta keep coins in ma pouch while I'm on tha road." Groj paused, considering, then reached over to Human and his pack. "M' goin' back home soon as I find ma nephew. Tha baron conscrip'd 'im -- too young, way too young ta be inna army."

"Me, ah was proud, proud ta serve in tha Langtier guard -- ah did a few stints there, an it made me a better man, a stronger man. But him, he's a long fortnight from 14 -- too young f'r what's goin' on, all that madness wit' tha king n' sech. He should be home wit' his momma, 'r watchin' tha herd like a young man's supposed ta."

Finally pulling a piece of chew from his pack, Groj gnawed off a hunk. "You? Where's yer home?"

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

"Hmmm, I agree...much too young...Me? I'm from the elven lands, little town. Pretty close to human lands, so my town had a lot of humans. I'm just wandering around, thought I'd see the world while I'm still young, you know? Same here, I'm just with this guy for the money...plus...I...kinda needed to get out of Lorhain. Nothing major, just a little misunderstanding with the locals. Figured I'd kill two birds with one stone." Vespe began to play on his lute as they walked, whistling along with the tune.

[roll0]

[Hairb]

The hours drift by as you trudge through the Armatier countryside, until, on cresting a hill, the monotony of thorps, fields and thickets is broken abruptly by a blinding flash of gold: the setting sun's reflection off the glassy surface of the Orlister. To the south, the sky is bruised and foreboding. Down the road lies a large stone bridge with some sort of fortification attached to it on the northern side. A small village lies beyond that.

"That's the bridge!" Arne calls out from the head of the group.


Vespe

Out of the corner of your eye, something on the man's wrist sparks your memory. A braided strap of greenish material is tied around his wrist signifies that he is a member of the Green Band, a group of freelance warriors from the kingdom's south.

Rafe

The man wears the subtle insignia of The Green Band, a group of nomadic knights who swear fealty to no one lord, but defend the kingdom as they see fit.
The scarring on the man's face indicates that he has lived a pretty violent life. Some sort of burn scar partially obscures quite a few small scars, but the signs of a heavy slash running parallel to his jawline are evident. His nose has been broken dozens of times.

Groj

This man's facial scars seem to be from all manner of different injuries: burns, edged weapons and at least one kind of teeth or claws.


I'd like two fortitude checks from Rafe, please. Not having to carry that armour has been a welcome reprieve, but you're still pretty tired.

[The_JJ]

To himself Rafe thinks I could do that. I'd have to fake a knighthood, but it's the sort of thing I'd like to do.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

"Sure. Ah know how that can be," Groj answered quietly.

"Now that's nice," he said as Vespe began to pluck out his tune. For the rest of the trip, Groj remained fairly reserved, except to nod and occasionally smile at Vespe's playing. If Vespe listens closely, he may notice Groj humming along at a very, very low tone.

Hearing Arne's call about the bridge, Groj stretched his limbs, shaking the road out of his legs. "Bout time...."

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

His irritation and anger had gone as quickly as it had come, leaving the afternoon's walking peacefully uneventful and, to Behlan's mind, a little tedious.

He had opted to keep his mouth shut as the group made it's way further north; as interesting as their little collection of misfits was turning out to be, he wanted to make it though the day without serious injury. Choosing instead to quietly hum along, almost tunelessly, with Vespe's playing as he watched the farmland pass them by. He grinned at the thought of how horrified his father would be if he had heard.

As the boy on the front wagon called their attention to the bridge Behlan stopped and took a moment to admire the view, before glancing back to the south. "Looks like the herdsman was right about that storm," he said as he flipped the hood of his cloak up and trotted to regain his position by the middle wagon.

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

"Well by Sirilain its about time" Derel murmured as the merchants son called to the group.

He then called Braan down, she always sharpened his eyes and ears.

"she always sharpened his eyes and ears" = to regain his alertness feat.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj put his calloused hand to his forehead, staring ahead intently through the setting sun's glare. That thar bridge is shor a sight farther than ah thought it'd be... He took a final gulp from his waterskin, preparing to dunk it into the Orlister for a cold refill when they get closer.

[Hairb]

After the best part of an hour, you arrive at the bridge. About 25' wide and 50' long, its northern end is incorporated into a stone building about two stories high, with a crenellated roof. The building is quite old, and seems to be built around a wide arch that traffic can pass through. The flag of the baron of Langtier flaps in the wind.
Knowledge (local), (history) or (architecture), if you have ranks in it, please.
Rafe takes a point of nonlethal damage from the stress of the march, and is fatigued (can neither run nor charge and takes a -2 penalty to Strength and Dexterity).

The four guards stationed on the bridge's northern side stand to attention as they see you approach. Three are half-orcs, or so it seems, and the fourth, although of human origin, has a slightly porcine cast to his feature and is nearly as muscular as his companions. Their red and grey uniforms are worn and ill-fitting, and their armour look pieced together from whatever could be found. The four guardsmen have crossbows slung across their backs and a variety of arms- one carries a spear, another two swords of unfamiliar make, a third a thick oak beam and the last a notched halberd.

One of them, wearing the most armour of the lot and carrying the halberd, steps forward and cries "Halt in the name of the baron!." The wagons draw to a halt in front of the bridge, and the guardsman orders the merchant and his boys to dismount. The remaining three guardsmen move in search the wagons.

[The_JJ]

Rafe stops to welcome the break, and takes the opportunity to drink some water. He nods to the guardsman not seaching the wagons. Looking for smugglers?

history [roll0]

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan avoided eye contact with the guards and glanced around the bridge, turning his attention back to them only as the leader, he presumed, called the wagons to a halt.

Would trust this lot about as far as I could through them, he thought to himself as he smiled stiffly at the approaching half-orcs. And even Groj would have trouble just lifting one of them. His smile relaxed around the edges slightly at the mental image, though keep his hand resting, seemingly casually, on the hilt of his sword.

[roll0]

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

As the guards approached Derel saw everyone stiffen up. I suppose that was the advantage to being kick-ass and 3 foot tall, you learn that size isn't everything.

Even so he tightened his grip on his staff just a little bit, if they had any of Groj's apparent opinion of Halflings he might be in a spot of bother.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Human lifted his head, sniffing the air. Groj looked up as well. Smells almost like home, huh? His face twisted as he saw the soldiers. They don't make 'em like they used ta. Slouchin' lazy... His eyes traveled back to the lightfoot sorcerer ahead of him. An' they'll let that little crook through without takin' so much as a red copper.

Groj strapped his weapons back onto Human, not wanting to appear threatening to these men just outside their stronghold. If he recognizes the location, he'll start describing it to Vespe.

Roll for Knowledge: Local = [roll0]

[Hairb]

"No, for hidden people. Can't have anyone trying to escape the toll. Are you all travelling with this man?"


Groj

The Duskling bridge is old, as old as the Barony itself, if not older. There are several fortified bridge forts like it along the length of the Orlister.

Rafe

This is was gnomish bridge fort, built to defend the old Gravates against human incursions from the south. After humans moved in to displace the goblin tribes in the area, they were remodeled to suit larger occupants. The stone bridge can be retracted if needed.

[The_JJ]

Yes sir, we are. Rafe says absently as his eyes wander over the bridge, looking for the tell-tale signs of it's history. Neat bridge huh? *ahem* It's very well made, no?
Testing fonts to reflect accents.
High class
Down low
Military

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

When the guards' question reaches Groj, he answers, "Yeh, we's guardin' tha wagons north. Rough up there." He then volunteers, "He's payin' tha toll f'r us, too, ya know."

Groj tried to smile calmly. 'Damn taxmen. These guys don't even look like proper soldiers, neither. F'r all we know, they're fakes... not that this crew could do a damn thing 'bout it if they was.'

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Vespe's hand involuntarily clenched around his walking stick, and he held it very tightly. "Yes sir, that we are, and our employer has graciously agreed to pay the toll for us, his loyal employees. So you should probably go bother him."

Vespe grinned nervously, and tried to remain calm. These guys are fakes, these guys are fakes, these guys are fakes, oh gods, we're all going to be mugged and murdered and left to rot on the side of the road! Okay calm down...okay, if that one tries to attack me, I'll daze him...or should I just beat him with the stick? Maybe stabbing him would work better... There was a puzzled look on his face as he stood there, thinking.

[aliron]

"We haven't additional people nor valuables in the wagons or on our person. Now if you would please stop circling around our wagons to surround us on this narrow bridge, I would appreciate it."

[The_JJ]

Rafe glances at the guards with newfound suspicion. He is far more used to the kind of enemy that rushes at you screaming, lurches menacingly, or announces it's presence with deadly projectiles. Nevertheless, he avoids pulling his sword and looks at the merchant for his cues.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj trailed off on his description of the fortified bridges he'd seen along the Orlister, which he'd been detailing to Vespe, and glared at the hitherto-sneaky elf who had just all but screamed, "Search us! SEARCH US! Say you found contraband and jail us, too!!"

'Ah though you was smarter 'n that, pointy-ears. You 'n me's gonna have us a chat, if'n we get outta here with our hides...' Why in all the hells would the elf have gambled his life that their employer was legit? Groj's teeth ground brutally.

When the guards' eyes left him, Groj gently released Human's tie to the wagon, in case the two of them needed to make a quick getaway. As he did, he tried to listen in on the merchant's conversation with the soldiers, glacing over to the halfling, mildly curious to see what kind of special treatment 'the boy' was getting.

Roll to overhear our boss:
d20+1 (Huh, guess because I didn't put in the / it won't let me roll in an edited post. I'll roll in a new post.)

Are you guys making a distinction between your spoken and internal monologues? I'm used to italics being used for thoughts, in books and in these forums, so it's kinda throwing me to read your dialog in italics :thog:

[Cyranojoe]

Listen to bossman:[roll0]

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

It was a nice idea Aliron had, and it might have worked if he had some kind of Royal insignia to whip out in a dramatic fashion. But since one didn't seem to be coming Derel decided to do something himself.

Speaking poiltely but firmly he spoke to the guard with the halberd, who he assumed was the leader.
"Excuse me, but as you can see we are nothing more than a grain shipment. Your search has been thorough and that is a credit to you and your comrades, but it is clear now that our convoy is upholding the law".

Waiting for a second while he chose his words he was half tempted to turn around and see if Groj had exploded with anger. Suppressing a smirk he continued.
"I am a Derel Teneson, a Lightfoot patron of these lands with no unlawful behaviour in my past or present, and by that virtue neither I nor those I travel with will be hindered on this bridge any longer. So I must request that you recall your officers and stand aside".

Diplomacy check: [roll0]
Spot and Listen in case the diplomacy doesn't work and the try to kill me: Listen [roll1]
Spot [roll2]

I am standing near the front of the wagons now, just out of halberd reach.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

He rolled his eyes when he heard the elf up front.Great, he thought, antagonise the heavily armed guards, or worse give them ideas. He paused and smiled. Well, what ever happens it's sure to be interesting.

He looked to the guard closest to him and tilted his head towards the savvy halfling. "You'd be wise to listen to him," he said with a politeness he didn't feel. "I'm sure your employer would not be please to find out that you've held up our friend here. It would be a great shame if such dedicated guards as yourselves were to be punished for not letting a lawful halfling and his companions pass."

Not sure if this is appropriate:
[roll0]

[Hairb]

If the leader hears any of you, he makes no sign of caring what you have to say. Instead, he keeps his steely gaze on the merchant.

One of the half-orcs searching wagons turns and calls out that they've found nothing. The leader of the guards runs his tongue over his cracked lips. "Well that's 14 sovereigns. Ten men, four wagons, a sovereign each. New tariff on imports." The merchant makes a sour face and reaches for his belt.

[The_JJ]

Rafe relaxes. He looks over his nervous companions. Why the big deal? He thinks to himself. Custom stops happen all the time. Eh, I guess everyone's on edge these days.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Stupid half-orcs, not even paying attention, he groused silently, if I'm going to pretend to be polite they could at least pretend to listen.

He was quickly distracted, however, by the merchant as he reached for his belt... impressed that the man seemingly kept at least that much money on his person rather than in a secure lock-box on one of the wagons. Out of habit he surreptitiously tried to note exactly where the merchant kept his coin purse.

Just a bit of fun (and because I like the forum roller):
[roll0]

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj turned his stare to the path they'd taken. Fourteen sovereigns was steep, but the merchant had surely figured on something like that before taking the gamble to deliver grain of all things to the embattled Langtier. In any case, they weren't tapping Groj's purse, so it didn't matter to him at this point.

On the other hand... It suddenly struck Groj that the guards were counting the boy in their tax -- and a beautiful grin spread across the ranger's weatherbeaten face.

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

Annoyed that he had been apparently ignored he took a few steps back, planning to return to his former position. But then he heard the cost the guard quoted.

It looked as though the merchant was probably going to pay it, but it was a matter of principle. After all what was the worst that could happen, he was skewered my a piece of metal, big deal. He would just cling to this world as a ghost and torment them for the rest of their miserable lives.

Again in his most diplomatic voice he said "Excuse me but I believe that you have miscalculated, it will only be 13 gold pieces to pass, as I am exempt from any charge". He fixed his gaze on the guards, running the words and gestures of his spells through his mind, just in case.

Again just in case -
Diplomacy: [roll0]
Spot: [roll1]
Listen: [roll2]
And a bonus one -
Reflex: [roll3]

[Hairb]

"It's a tariff on imports, little man, and all merchant convoys hafta pay't. Fyew want to split straws legal-like, you can do it with Marshal Choyen." He hawks and sends a walnut-sized lump of phlegm sailing over the edge of the bridge into the river. "In a holding cell, s'far as I'm worried. Now..."

The merchant steps between Derel and the guardsman and thrusts a couple of fivebits under the guard's nose. The guard counts out a handful of stallions, lancers and harriers from a small box bearing some sort of crest and flings them at the merchant's feet, and smirks as your employer stoops to pick the coins up, as he waves the wagons through with a mailed hand. "Clear the bridge, then. You're blocking the King's Highway," he says, sarcastically.

The stallion is a silver piece, the lancer is a copper piece, and the harrier is a no longer minted coin worth about 1/2cp. The fivebit is a large pentagonal coin made of electrum, and is worth five sovereigns. It takes the place of platinum pieces in this setting.

The merchant, livid with rage, mounts his wagon once again, and gives the signal for his sons to advance. The twins glance over their shoulders as they pass through the arch, watching what you all do.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj follows the wagons over the bridge without responding to the guards' altercation with the merchant, but the breeze coming over the river is sweet and uplifting. Once on the other side, Groj kneels to refill his waterskin with real, true Langtier water.

It's been a while....

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

Seeing the scene unfold between the merchant and guard, Derel felt slightly guilty, he would probably apologise but now was not the time.

Walking on with the rest of the convoy as he passed them he shot the guard a look of venom but restrained himself from leaving a retort. Unfortunately Braan doesn't have such willpower and caws to them "sooner or later gits like you all gets whats coming to them".

Annoyed but amused Derel continued walking.

Won't bother rolling checks again, but if I do get hacked to pieces (What with my 6 whole hit points), I ask Hairb, how would you feel about me becoming a ghost to stay in the game?

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

He smiled at the raven's words as he stepped forward and followed the wagons through the archway, making a deliberate effort to ignore the guardsmen as he went.

"Huh. Well, it could have been worse," he said brightly as he stepped under the stonework and away from the half-orcs.

[The_JJ]

Rafe nods amicably. "Larusel be with you."

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Vespe returned to his position, barely able to retain a snicker at the merchant's anger. Some semblance of seriousness then returned to his face. "Well, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" He asked no one in particular. Vespe then unstrapped his lute and began to play once more, joyfully whistling along.

[roll0]

[Hairb]

On hearing Braan's remark, one of the guards shys a pebble in the birds direction, but misses and curses. As the you pass under the arch and through the fort, you notice the ceiling and walls above head height are studded with small, square indentations about four inches across. One of the twins mutters something unintelligible to the other as Rafe crosses under the arch, and the chink of metal on metal is audible as money changes hands. On each side of the tunnel, a door is barely visible. You exit the tunnel into the fading sunlight, and a short while later arrive in the village of Duskling.

The village is built around a small paved square with a well and sundial taking pride of place. A hall, temple, inn, smithy and a large, impressive house are all on the square, and a few small peasant god shrines, houses, shops and a large stone barracks lie further from the middle of the village. Locals, including a great many half-orcs, are milling around making preparations for nightfall. The evening chill begins to set in, and the smell of wood smoke and cooking food is everywhere.

The merchant heads over to the inn, which bears the sign of the Hart and Hare. He instructs his sons to take care of the animals, announces that he will pay for the group's board, and instructs you all to be ready to leave at dawn tomorrow.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan glanced around the settlement in interest but, for the most part, seemed to ignore the locals as they went about their business. He turned instead to his travelling companions.

"So," he said cheerfully, clapping his hand together. "Can I temp any of you to a drink? I know Vespe here deserves recompense for his fine playing, at least." He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "And there are, perhaps, others," he added as his gaze fell on Groj and then the halfling and his bird.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

"Tha' was some good tune'in, Vespe," Groj remarked to the bard after he brought the song to its lyric end. And it was; he hadn't heard such dulcet tones since his wife...

No. Just... no.

The merchant's declaration that he was covering their board (as well as the rooms?) made Groj's belly offer a grumbling query, and Behlan's suggestion of a drink was twice as tempting, but the ranger said, "Thanks f'r that, but Ah'll have ta join ye in two bits. Human here don't take kindly to strange hands. Better f'r me ta settle him in afore he take a bite of somebody's finger. Keep a stool open f'r me."

So, instead of tucking into a halfsteak in the tavern, the ranger joined the boys as they went back to the place's stables. Groj didn't bother to make conversation, but he did watch them. Did they know what they were doing with the animals? Did they show special concern over anything? Did they actually say anything of interest in the first place?

Once Human was squared away and munching on another carrot, Groj hefted his weapons and pack -- What kinda fool lugs so much gear 'round here n' there, anyway? -- and made his way to where he'd be staying. He stashed the most valuable items in his pouch (money, smokestick, etc), lashed his warhammer to his back ("Jes' in case"), slipped his Bowie knife into its easy-to-release and very obvious forearm strap. Once that was done and his weapons stashed under his bedroll, he headed to where he expected to find the rest of the party.

Roll for Listen:[roll0]
Sense Motive:[roll1]
Handle Animal (observing them):[roll2]

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

Derel replied to Behlan's offer with "I think I'll take you up on that, assuming you have no objections". The second part was aimed at Groj. "I'm just kidding, I'll come anyway" he said with a smile.

Just let me get cleaned up first. And with that he mumbled something under his breath, snapped his fingers, and all the dust and other crap from the road just vanished off both him and Braan.

"Prestidigitation, love it".

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

"I'm always up for free drinks," Vespe remarked with a smile as he strapped his lute to his back. "Should we put up our things in our room, though? I don't know about you, but I've found the whole 'armed to the teeth' thing to be rather off-putting to most people."

[The_JJ]

Rafe

Rafe glances at the tavern. His Sodier's Senses kick in. A half-pint maybe, and then it's straight to the hay for me. I have to be well rested for tommorow.

[aliron]

"I'll join you at the tavern, with weapons, but I'll pass on the round. Be nice to be amongst people indoors every now and again."

[Hairb]

I'd like a Knowledge (Nature) check from Grojimar and a Diplomacy check from everyone else. Those of you raised by or near humans (that would include halflings, I guess) get a +2 to this particular diplomacy check, while those with little experience of human customs take -2.

[Cyranojoe]

You specified the +2 for the Diplomacy rolls, so I did my K(N) roll without it:
Knowledge-Nature:[roll0]

Just in case you wanted me to roll a Diplomacy roll as well (-1 Cha mod, +2 situation mod):[roll1]

[Kobold-Bard]

Diplomacy: [roll0] (+3 Mod / +2 Circumstance)

[vomit_bunny]

[roll0]

Um, I put in the +2 circumstance bonus since he was raised by a human, if you think that's pushing it feel free to ignore it.

[Vespe Ratavo]

[roll0]

+3 ability mod, +4 skill ranks, +2 for experience with human customs (raised in a human village).

Edit: Ouch. First time I get to actually use my specialty, and I roll a 2. :smalltongue:

[aliron]

Diplomacy [roll0]

How fitting.

[The_JJ]

Diplomacy [roll0]

[Hairb]

In the stables:
You recognise three strange horse-like creatures in the stalls, with boney plates covering their foreheads, vaguely cloven hooves and bright amber coloured eyes. They are varicorns, a kind of horse said to be interbred with unicorns long ago. Outside of elvish lands they are rare in the extreme, and command a high price. Also in the stalls are two large draft horses and a black thoroughbred. The wagons have been left in the walled yard behind the inn, and the twins are headed inside, have settled the oxen down for the night. There is a stall available for Human, plus feed and the like.

Inside the Inn:
Derel, Behlan, Vespe: You recall that it is common courtesy in the northern baronies to place your right hand over your heart and show your left palm while bowing when entering a building as a stranger. This shows your peaceful intentions and goodwill.
Aliron and Rafe: You seem to have made a faux pas of some sort, but may cover it up with a Bluff check, if you wish.

[The_JJ]

Rafe

Following just footsteps behind the others Rafe catches the gesture and repeats it.
[roll0]

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj settled Human down in his stall, set up his feed, and treated him to one of the last carrots in his pack. "Don't be joinin' me in that there tavern, ya got me?" The horse whinnied, seemingly content to be at rest. For now.

Groj then moseyed over to the varicorns, trying to appear casual. "Nice 'cornies, good 'cornies. Watchu beauts doin' here?" He further sweet-talked the animals, offering carrots to encourage them to allow him closer to inspect them.

'If I could get me one of these, I could sell it and come home with a sackload a stallions... heh, no kiddin'. Who needs guard duty?'

Groj eyed the animals to see if they had any loose gear he could "pick up," or identifying marks that would make selling them difficult, should he manage to liberate one from the stables. Amid his horse-whispering, Groj's blue eyes take in the entrance and rest of the stalls, checking for stablehands or other witnesses.

Handle Animal (varicorn #1):[roll0]
Search:[roll1]

The search could also tell Groj who might own these animals...?

[Cyranojoe]

Meant to roll one for each varicorn...
Handle Animal (varicorn #2):[roll0]
Handle Animal (varicorn #3):[roll1]

[aliron]

Nope, Aliron ignores the arbitrary custom and walks in without saying anything.

[Hairb]

The Hart and Hare is a two story building with stone walls, a steep slate roof and shuttered windows. Inside, there are two long tables with benches near the bar, and a pair of round tables, which of each seat four, are closer to the fireplace at the other end of the room. Behind the bar, a set of stone steps leads into a basement.

To the left of the door is a small shrine with a bowl of coins set in front of it. An effigy of Tranchke making a welcoming gesture takes pride of place on the shrine.

Eight peasants are seated on one of the long trestles, drinking from leather tankards, and for a moment seem slightly perturbed at your arrival. They swiftly return to their hushed conversations in thick local dialect.

The merchant and his sons are seated at the other long table. Your employer is speaking to a short, heavily muscled man who is ladling some sort of soup into ten wooden bowls.

Around one of the circular tables sit three elves, dressed elegantly and speaking animatedly in Elvish while sipping wine from silver goblets. A large pewter flagon and a sizeable joint of meat sit unattended at the table.

Two tall goblinoids sit on chairs beside the fireplace. Their packs lie at their feet, and they seem to be deliberately ignoring goings-on around them and drinking in silence.

Map due shortly.

[Hairb]

Groj
Everything portable seems to have been moved elsewhere. The varicorns don't seem unnerved by your presence, but seem quite comfortable staying put in their stalls. All three are purest white, with mottled markings on their foreheads differentiating them.

In the stall closest to the door, a long snake with brilliant green and yellow scales is dozing in the rafters, or at least gives the appearance of doing so.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan bowed politely as he entered the building; noting, out of the corner of his eye, that the supercilious elf hadn't bothered.

"Not much of a people person, are you?" he muttered to the elf in question; feeling slightly better that his apparent animosity seemed directed at everyone and not just Behlan.

He didn't wait for a reply, however, and instead nodded, in a friendly manner, to men (the only ones they'd seemed to have disturbed) seated at the long table... not that they seemed all that interested. He turned to Vespe and tilted his head towards the merchant and the inviting bowls of soup.

"We should ask him where we're sleeping... if you still want to drop off your gear?" he asked, though he hadn't intended it to be a question. He didn't actually feel all that heavily armed, but then, he supposed, it was entirely possible that Vespe was used to a better class of alehouse than him.

[The_JJ]

Rafe walks up to the long table by the merchant and sits down. I assume you've got someone watching the wagons? Because he's got most of his stuff in one of them. He then turns to the shine and tries to see if he can find his god amongst the others.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe began to step through the door, but suddenly remembered to hold his hand on his heart, hold the other one up, and bow. Close one, he thought to himself. He took a glance at the shrine, pulled out a copper piece, and dropped it in the bowl. Thanks.

He turned to Behlan. "Hmm...well, I'm kind of hungry, and I don't think anyone will be that bothered if we keep our things on, do you?" He took a place at the merchant's table, taking a moment to think over the days events to himself, followed by wondering as to what kind of soup he was about to have.

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

Walking into the inn Derel saw one of the others place their hand over their chest. Remembering a traveller he had seen do the same thing he followed suit quickly enough so it looked like he had known about it in advance.

Deciding he was actually quite hungry Derel headed straight for the merchants table and sat down in front of one of the end bowls so that Braan could hop onto the table to share it. Placing his pack beneath the table and his staff resting against it he turned to the merchant and simply said "With your permission".

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

"Huh. Big yeller snake up 'ere, n' you don't say boo, but ya see tha tiniest spider n' ya try ta kick me off, how does that figger, Human?"

Groj kept his eye on the snake -- he's seen Langtier brownrattles play dead then jump out with a sudden, noxious bite -- dropped his pack onto a haystack, and released his ranseur from its straps. Holding the weapon out at its full length, he approached the snake's position carefully.

Inches away, it occurred to him that he should have gotten the stablehands to deal with the reptile. 'Ahh, Voids,' he thought as the head of the ranseur nudged the snake. "Please, please, please jes' git. Don't gimme no bitin', jes' git..."


What's a tropical animal doing in a place like this? Oh, please let me be wrong...

In case it's not clear, Groj is trying to encourage the animal to leave the stable -- he's not attacking it.

[Hairb]

The merchant gestures for you to take a seat, and his friend greets you warmly. "So, your the fellows walkin' with old Voss, are you? Tuck in, then. He's always welcome round here, and so are you." The soup is thick and nourishing peasant fare, made of beans and lentils and flavoured with marrow. Accompanying it is a trencher of stale bread with dripping.

"I wouldn't worry about the wagons. Molic's putting that great old dog of his out in the yard before he looks up for the night. Great big thing, isn't it, Molic?"

"Oh, yes. They're safe with Mac keeping an eye on them, that's a surety."

Conversation shifts to sleeping arrangements. Due to the number of guests - Molic glances over at the elves seated nearby as he says this - the six of you will have to sleep in the one room, although extra pallets and blankets have been brought down from the attic. Molic seems embarrassed, and says he'll charge you a silver piece each for the stay. Voss seems pleased with this arrangement, and slides the remains of your day's pay down the table, then ushers his sons upstairs. "We leave at dawn tomorrow. Better get some sleep."

Rafe
The goddess depicted is Tranchke

Groj
The snake hisses in annoyance, and slithers higher up into the shadows of the rafters, out of reach.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

The big ranger was surprised to find himself shaking slightly. "Voids -- I hate snakes. Why'd it have to be a snake?"

Eyeing the rafters as he gathered up his pack, Groj spoke over his shoulder to Human, "You ain't bothered by 'im? You c'n have 'im. Jes' don't bring 'im into my room, s'all I ask."

With that, Groj left the stable. If he sees a stablehand, he'll tell them about the snake. Otherwise, he heads into the tavern, realizing he had not found out where their rooms were going to be.

'Touch yer heart, show yer peace.' The native Langtier man made the standard gesture of goodwill inside the entrance. He'd always liked that traditional saying. He wondered idly if the crow-boy or the others had known about it, or if they just raised every kid badly down south.

Groj flipped a copper into Trachke's bowl, nodding to the proprietor as he did so. His cold blue eyes surveyed the rest of the room unflinchingly.

The elven trio looked like for all the world like a comedy troupe to him; he resisted asking for a 'nobleman pratfall' from them, though. The goblinoids were probably mercs looking for work amid the local troubles, and the peasants looked local enough. The latter group did not return his nod of greeting, which bothered him. Had he changed so much?

Recognizing the merchant's bulk and Vespe's lilting voice, Groj walked up to the group at their tables, where many of them were tucking into bowls of soup. From the pungent smell, he could tell it was a good old Langtier recipe, with a hint of some of those southern herbs he hadn't gotten used to while working the other side of the border. He almost smiled as he sat down, his pack making a heavy THUMP on the ground.

"Drinks?"

Since I already established Groj's background as being from Langtier, I figured he'd remember the tradition. Was just a question of whether he'd care. ;)

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan reached forward and took his share of their wage, stacking the coins next to his soup bowl as he took a spoonful. He smiled up at Malic. "This is good," he said with genuine pleasure as he tucked into the meal. "Never had this before," he continued around a large spoonful of soup.

It wasn't long before Groj arrived, reminding Behlan of his promise of a round.

"Drinks, indeed," he said in cheerful agreement before turning to Malic. "Could we get some ale to go with this hearty meal? he asked. "Five pints, I believe, unless..." He turned the bird supping the halfling's soup and asked "What would you like?"

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

"Just a little bit of red wine, in a bowl preferably, beaks a bit difficult to fit in a cup" Braan cawed back cheerfully to Behlan. Turning to Derel she said "I like him, not like ass face over there" motioning towards Groj.

"Much appreciated from both of us. Just the cheap stuffs fine for her" Derel called to Behlan, and turning to Groj he said "well, lets be honest I'm not sorry am I" smiling as he continued with his soup.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Grojimar smiled at Behlan's request to the innkeeper, then stood and raised his hand, catching Molic's attention. "Hey, 'keep, make it the good Langtier stuff, not that southern swill, right?" he asked the man, a hopeful note in his voice. "Thank ye kindly." He nodded and began to sit down, but was halted by a childlike insult tossed at him in a harsh voice.

He turned and stared down at the halfling at the far end of the table. Clearly the little man was throwing his words, trying to sound like his crow, but it was just absurd. After the incident with the snake, the conflict just felt trivial, so although Groj continued to hold his stare one full beat too long following Derel's non-apology, he simply turned his back and sat down again.

"Why ain't I surprised?" he said to Behlan and Rafe with a crooked smile. "Lemme guess, the boy didn't bother ta show his peace," he asked, repeating the gesture. He laughed, but his words were clearly not a question.

Groj slapped Behlan on the back. "Bet you did, though! You were pro'ly raised right, unlike 'im." He thrust his thumb back at the halfling. That was the entirety of the reaction he gave the spellcaster, turning the conversation towards Behlan's family and other topics.

"So, whatcher home like, Belly? Yer momma cook like this?" Groj took a big mouthful of the soup. 'Ah, yeah, slab a' bacon and this'd be perfect...' he thought. His eyebrows raised as the pints made their way to the table. 'And some good ale f'r once...'

[The_JJ]

Rafe just raises an eyebrow at the in party conflict, one of the habits he had picked up while training with all the second sons of nobility. He grabs his bowl, tosses his last silver down for his share of the ale (if there's change he'll take it) and sits down somewhere between Groj and the halfling. Honestly, I'd never see it before. He rolls his eyes I do hope it won't count as false worship. And then he begins to tear through his soup.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan nodded to Molic again and added the requested wine to their order. He turned his attention back to his meal, listening to the mocking comments of his companions with amusement as he ate. He'd be impressed if they all managed to get though this job without coming to blows, at this rate.

His thoughts were brought to a spluttering halt when Groj suddenly slapped him on the back. He smiled; Groj's enthusiasm was impressive, even if his choice of nickname was a little off.

He was about to answer Groj's question he saw Rafe put a coin on the table, presumably a contribution towards the drinks. He quickly reached forward, scooped up the coin and ran it deftly over the back of his hand.

"My treat," he said amicably, flipping the coin back to Rafe. "I don't invite people for a drink and then expect them to pay."

He looked to Groj. "And my mother's cooking is the best," he laughed. "But then there's nothing like home cooking, is there? Good, honest food; like this, but different flavours." He grinned as he tore at a piece of bread. "That doesn't really make sense, does it?"

[aliron]

Grateful of the hot meal, Aliron remained quiet and allowed all comments to pass by him without argument.

[The_JJ]

Rafe catchs the coin. Alright, but you'll have tah let me pay you back, eh?

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Vespe tasted the soup tentatively."Hey, this stuff is really good." He then held the bowl to his lips, chugging the whole thing. "Mmmm...just like mom used to make!

Except my mom never cooked. And I've never had this kind of soup. But, you know what I mean. Right?" He snatched a tankard of ale off of the tray, and sipped it. "This is good stuff." He began to take larger sips, listening to the others chat.

[Hairb]

A male half-elf comes softly down the stairs and places a flat square object and a small cloth bag on the elves' table, then bows. One of them whispers into his pointed ear, and motions at the bar. The half-elf approaches the bar and strikes up a conversation with Molic. Two of the elves start to set up take carved pieces of some greenish stone out of the bag and set up a game of some sort on the board while the third, a woman, looks boredly on.

One of the Hobgoblins stands up with an unintellegible grunt and strolls, stiff-legged, out the front door, leaving his pack on the floor. He casts an unambigously hostile glance over his shoulder at the elves as he leaves.

Map available here (http://www.rapidshare.com/files/144934775/H_Hmap1.gif)
Sorry if it all looks like BS, my eraseable grid mat thingy is in use at the moment.
To orient you all, you are seated at the northern long table (C4-6), the peasants are at the other one (F4-6), the elves are at the lower three seat on the F8 table, and the hobgoblins are around the fireplace (D10, C11). The shrine is at H2, and Molic the innkeeper (D1) is conversing with the half-elf (D3) across the bar. All make sense?

[Cyranojoe]

Groj downs his ale and smacks his lips with relish. "Yes! Thank you, Langtier! Barony may be going ta pot, but tha booze is still tha best you c'n get! Next round's on me, crew -- yeah, even for you n' yer crow, boy."

Groj doesn't care to leave a debt unpaid, and he'd certainly like to see if the lightfoot will pony up for a round himself...

Corrected link:
http://www.rapidshare.com/files/144934775/H_Hmap1.gif
For those not familiar with this (such as myself), you have to click on the download link ("free user" no signups), wait for the download page to come up, then click the big blue DOWNLOAD button.

How much should I assume a round costs?

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan took the opportunity to look around the inn when the half-elf came down the stairs, though he his interest quickly returned to the people at his own table. Perhaps in other circumstances the hobgoblins, and their luggage, would have kept his attention a little longer, but not with the entertainment his present company were providing.

He had hardly made a dent in his ale and Groj was calling for more; not that he was going to object to another round. He raised his tankard and took another sip before speaking. "So, big guy, you're a local boy, then?" he asked Groj.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj thrusts his chin out with a grunting laugh; he just caught Vespe's joke about the soup. He's clearly delighted when the elf praises the ale. "Haven't known many o' yer kind ta like Langtier redthroat, meanin' no 'fense. Takes a strong man ta down three in his first hour... like we says at home, we says... yeah, I'm from Langtier, northern Langtier... up there we says, 'Three in one, free for all!'"

"'At means yer like ta git inna good ol' bar fight, n' win it, too, if ya drink long an' drink strong. First three are the best three!"

Groj grins at the thought, picturing Vespe and Behlan clearing out the entire tavern in a brawl. If there's no response beyond chuckles or laughter, he says, "So, Belly, Vessy, Rafie, where you fellas from?"

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

"Hehehe, nice nicknames meatshield".

[The_JJ]

Rafe
Rafe shrugs, and for once speaks with out any pretense to a highborn accent, though it now has a distinct twang. Out east. I haven't been back in years though. I was going to go see my mother after I got out of the force but... well, I got hurt real bad right before that happened, and a cleric of Larusel saved me. It seemed like a nice thing to do, pay it forward you know? Went to a training monastery, they'd take anyone, but I guess I shoulda thought more about why they're all sons of the nobility. O' course, I know all about the whys of that now, lived through it and read about it.

[aliron]

Aliron

"Careful lightfoot, he seems to be the type of human who likes to prove he has a big meat-sword," Aliron remarks, preferring not to be in the proximity of angry, drunk, searing fireballs and stray lightning bolts at a crowded table.

[The_JJ]

Rafe
Rafe stares into his cup, far to engrossed in his memories to be bothered by such things.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

"Me? I'm from out west, sort of on the border of the elven lands. Little human village. I liked it and all, but it's kind of disorienting to see your childhood friends have kids of their own while you're still growing up, you know? Er...I guess you wouldn't. Never mind.

My parents always used to tell me about all these adventures they had 'back in the day,' so I figured I'd get out and see the world while I'm still young. Maybe have an adventure or two of my own." He sipped the ale. "And here I am guarding a shipment of grain, of all things." He sighed.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

"Fah, nobles." Groj spat between his feet. "Worse n' lightfeet, them, n' jes' as hard ta get rid of. But yeh seem like the good sort. Glad ta have ya here."

Vespe then introduces himself further, to which Groj says, "Heh. Ain't no adventures up here in Langtier, jes' people gettin' inna heap a trouble. Hope we c'n avoid that -- so don't be one a' them that wants ta jump inta the wrong kinda fight at the wrong time n' place, Vessy. I've been there. It ain't a good ways ta be." His eyes glaze over briefly, remembering why he left Langtier in the first place, but he's back quickly.

"Barkeep! C'n we get that round here? Throat's gettin' dry!"

He pointedly ignores Derel's gibes, and if he heard Aliron's wisecrack, he gives no sign.

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

"Maybe your right" Derel replied to Aliron, resisting the urde to use Ray of Frost to freeze Groj's soup. "So, what's your story. How'd you end up here"? he saks Aliron.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan spluttered and choked as Aliron's words registered, he had, unfortunately, been mid sip at the time. He grinned self-consciously and tilted his head towards his tankard as he raised it again, trying to regain his composure. "Good stuff," he wheezed to no one in particular. Perhaps the elf wasn't all that bad he decided as he settled back to listen to his companions.

[The_JJ]

Rafe
Rafe shifts uncomfortably as Groj insults the nobilty, pauses for a moment to mull over his response, and drops back into thier accent.
Well, they're not all good as they seem to think, but a well ordered sociey is important. Ideally, a good noble should be able to rule well and impress these ideals onto his children, and thus rule wisely. It's just that some children reject this.

[aliron]

Aliron

In response to Derel's question, "Same as everybody else around here I suppose, travel to where things are happening and take the opportunity to exploit the turmoil there. Hell, maybe one day we can play the hero and become the nobles. Or seize the power, become nobles, rewrite history, and then play the hero. Who's up for a revolution?" he says with a smile.

"There's nothing more fascinating than the why or the how. And the rumors of the Baron's secessionist plot could inscribe us into the pages of the history books, or at the very least, we could see how things really happen."

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

The ranger shrugs his big shoulders. "Mebbe. I figger it's in their blood -- else how come ya gotta be blood of nobles ta be noble? But yeah, kids'll be kids. I got a girl back home, she's tough as nails, jes' like her pa. You? Got kids?"

Groj glances over at Aliron's suggestion of revolution, figures he's joking, and stays with the more pedestrian conversation he's in with Rafe and the others.

[The_JJ]

Rafe
Rafe smiles. None that I know of. He waits half a heartbeat before laughing. No, no, I'm a lot younger then I look. Spent most of my time in a mercenary outfit in the Brasslands, and then some time in a monastary. No chance, eh?

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Vespe accidentally sputtered and spat out some of his ale. "Me? No, no, don't be silly. I'm only...what, a hundred and twenty nine?" Suddenly remembering who he was talking to, he quickly added "That's comparable to twenty in human years. Twenty five at the most.

And that's another reason why I don't have kids - elf kids are "kids" for a century. And you people wonder why there are so few of us compared to you." He sipped his ale again.

[Hairb]

The female elf lets out a loud, bored sigh and mutters something in Elvish, attacting the attention of her two comrades. She makes some arcane passes, grunts a few syllables and undergoes an... interesting change.

Everyone:
Will saves, all around!
Speakers of Elvish:
The elf says "I've got an idea. Watch this."

[Kobold-Bard]

I speak Elvish.
Knowledge Arcana: [roll0] (to recognise the grunts and gestures)
Spellcraft: [roll1] (To identify the spell)
Will Save: [roll2]

Edit: Knowledge Arcana mod is actually +5 so result is 25

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan was just about to speak when a loud sigh and rather perturbing elvish from one of the table behind them interrupted him. He turn turned in time to see one of the elves complete some sort of arcane rite.

"This could be interesting."


[roll0]

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj's eyes bugged. "Damn! Cain't imagine gettin' ta be a parent f'r a hunnert years. No wonder you elves 'r..." he trails off, looking over to where everyone else has begun to gawk.

Will save: [roll0]

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

"Hey, why's everyone staring..." he turned around in his chair, his jaw dropping slightly as he saw...whatever it was he saw.

[roll0]
[roll1] (on the off-chance I've heard of what I'm seeing)
[roll2] (I can learn "common knowledge" (DC 10) with an untrained check, not sure if that applies to arcana)

[The_JJ]

Rafe
Is back to staring off distractedly, but then turns to the Elf with intrest as she speaks. A spell? Could be fun.
will save [roll0]

[aliron]

Aliron

Will Save: d20+1

[aliron]

Huh, that was weird. Going to try again since editing didn't seem to change anything. Will Save: [roll0]

[Hairb]

Derel, Groj, Rafe, Aliron
There is an unpleasant twisting of the woman's appearance that causes a shudder to run down your spine. All at once, it looks as though there is a warty hobgoblin attired like the one that just left the room seated in her place, but your realise that your eyes seem to be playing tricks on you.
Behlan, Vespe
It suddenly occurs to you that the elf maiden's facial features are curiously familiar to those of the hoblgoblin that just left the room. Her clothes, too. She's awfully tall and muscular for an elf, much more than you initially realised. You aren't even really sure if she is an elf, or even female, at all. In fact, the two are virtually identical in almost every way.

The hobgoblin leaves it's chair by the elves and takes up a place beside the door, as though waiting for something.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj grunts when the elf makes her shift, then turns back to his mug and to Rafe and Vespe. Either a bar fight is coming up -- in which case he wants to finish his ale -- or it's nothing to interest him.

"Too bad ya don't have kids. My little one, she's a fireball, she is, always gittin' inna trouble, an' she's jes six!" He shakes his head, taking another swig. "I'd be home wit' her, 'cept the baron's men, they grabbed my nephew and slapped 'im in soldier gear and hauled 'im off to who knows where. Kid's barely a baker's dozen in years -- too damn young ta be inna war. Soon's I find him, I'm back home. Ain't got no innerest in hist'ry like that one." He gestures at Aliron.

Groj surreptitiously glances over his shoulder at the elf/hobgoblin. He is beginning to wonder if he'll get to the bottom of his ale in time...

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

"I gotta learn how to do that" was Derel's response to the Elves metamorphosis. He then returned to his soup, completely uninterested in the Elf/Goblin as it got up.

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

"I could have sworn," Behlan started; he paused and shook his head slightly. Must have been confused, he decided as he looked at the hobgoblin, maybe he slipped back in... and how could I ever have thought he was an elf?

He turned back to the bench and eyed his drink speculatively. "You know," he said as he lifted the tankard, "this must be stronger than I thought." He quickly knocked back what was left of the ale."That and I've had too much."

[aliron]

Aliron

"Might be interesting indeed," Aliron muttered. "Even though I'm sure most of you noticed, the Elf maiden just disguised herself as a hobgoblin. Keep that in mind if you don't want to anger the wrong crowd by accidentally punching the illusionist in the face. In fact...anyone want 'accidentally' fall and smash some fruit on her so we can differentiate?"

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj smiled as Behlan finished his second ale before anyone else. "That's tha way!" he said. Aliron's muttering about fruit pulled him away from the order of another round. Sneaky elf was getting a little too involved...

Keeping his voice low, Groj mumbled, "Don't pay it no mind -- what's it matter, huh?" Then he chuckled, looking around the bar. The place wasn't exactly a fruit market. The elf's only option would be to spill booze on the elf/hobgoblin, incurring exactly what he seemed to be trying to avoid.

Groj leaned back, pulling his pack closer and loosening the straps on his warhammer... just in case...

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan shifted on the bench and looked between Aliron and the apparently false hobgoblin, finally settling on Aliron.

"Really?" he asked, glancing back at hobgoblin. "Because that's pretty cool!"

He turned back to the perceptive elf and grinned. "So," he said. "You're thinking there's gonna be a punch up and you're worried about hitting the pretty lady?" Although he was going to have to take Aliron's word that the hobgoblin was just that.

[The_JJ]

Rafe

Rafe laughs bitterly into his mug when Groj mentions twenty as too young for the army.

Keep you're knifes in thier sheaths, and I can patch up any bruises you get.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj closed his eyes, feeling the familiar alcohol starting to go to work on the edges of his mind. He could almost hear his older sister's voice... "Groj-groj-grojjy -- ye ain' no drinker. I said, ye ain' no drinkin drinky! Ye cain' hol' yer likker, an' ye ain' no drinker! Stinker!" They both fell over with laughter... well, Groj would have fallen over, but he was already on his back in a pig trough, where he'd landed after trying to show he could too tiptoe along the edge of the fencing. When she finally threw her hair back for the umpteenth time and managed to hold in her laughter long enough to offer him a hand up, he managed to pull her into the sty with him.

That was years ago and not so far away, back when she hadn't become the family whip-cracker, and he wasn't yet the butt of every joke -- or target of every suspicious eye -- in town and on the range.

Groj opened his eyes and took another long swig. Anyone looking at his blue eyes in that moment was at risk for frostbite...

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

"Woah, I've got to learn how to do that," Vespe said, taking Alrion's words as fact. He took another sip of his drink. "Say, you know what would be great? Becaush I don't. My lifh is meaninglesh." He said, his voice starting to sound slightly slurred.

[Hairb]

The door swings upon and the hobgoblin re-enters the room and walks straight into his identical counterpart. The three hobgoblins exchange confused glances, and the room falls silent. Suddenly, one of the two at the door breaks into a high, feminine giggle. The elves at the table roar with laughter, and even some of the townsfolk are smirking. The other hobgoblin at the door, eyes wide with surprise, growls a short angry syllable and shoves his counterpart to the floor. The prone hobgoblin seems to melt and shift into the form of the female elf, who cowers in fear. A sudden twang cuts through the room's laughter and the hobgoblin drops to the ground, a short bolt protruding from his calf. The half-elf at the bar is holding a compact, unloaded crossbow in his hand.

ROOOOOLL INITIATIVE
I'll need you to confirm your positions. Remember that two or more characters can (and do, in everyday life) share a 5-foot square, so you might start a bit bunched up.

By the by, nobody speaks Goblin, do they?

[vomit_bunny]

[roll0]

Behlan's on the bench in D6

[Vespe Ratavo]

[roll0]

Vespe's on the bench at B5.

[Cyranojoe]

OK, who brought a crossbow to a fistfight? A--holes...

Initiative:d20
I can't access my char sheet from work anymore (they've been blocking all the fun sites, just not this one yet), so please add my bonus as appropriate.

[Cyranojoe]

Oops, wrong code.[roll0] EDIT: Bonus is +3, so make that 16 for initiative.

Oh, and as I mentioned before, Groj is at J in VB's drawing and thus D5 in Hairb's drawing.

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

OOC - Initiative: [roll0] (:smallfurious:Are you kidding me. Three pbp games over four days and I have yet to roll anything higher than a seven. I think I upset the mods and they are rigging my dice rolls)
No Goblin speaker here.
I don't know where these battleships co-ordinates are coming from so just put me on the edge of the group in case Braan shed in someones soup.

[aliron]

Initiative!:[roll0]

I think I'm at B6 on your map

[Hairb]

The room looks like this (http://i428.photobucket.com/albums/qq2/Langtier/hartandharemap0.gif) at the turn's start.

Moving onto the (roughly 5' high) tables requires a Jump or Tumble check, or a Balance check if you can step onto a bench first. Failing this check will cause you to fall prone in the square you were moving into and be exposed to public ridicule. Jumping down from a table or bench doesn't require a roll.

Standing from a seated position is a swift (free) action that does not provoke AoO's.

The initiative order is:
Second Hobgoblin (H2)
Silk Shirt (E4)
---
Behlan
Rafe
Vespe
---
Cloak (E3)
Half-Elf (E2)
Female Elf (E1)
---
Aliron
Groj
Derel + Braan
---
Peasants (P)
First Hobgoblin (H1)

I'll just post links to the maps to improve loading times. I have a photobucket account, with the username of Langtier.

The second Hobgoblin leaps from his seat, tugging a bronze-banded club from his belt, swinging it at Silk Shirt, and injuring him badly. The elf draws a keen blade as he stands and strikes back, drawing blood.

At the start of Behlan's turn, the room looks like this (http://i428.photobucket.com/albums/qq2/Langtier/hartandharemap1a.gif).

[vomit_bunny]

Behlan

Behlan pushed himself up from the bench and swung his bow free from his shoulder as the fight really got going. No stranger to the excitement of a barroom brawl, Behlan knew from experience he was almost worse than useless in close quarters. With that in mind, he adeptly notched an arrow and stepped further away from the flurries of activity, closer to Aliron and the Vespe; not putting it past the hobgoblins to hold all the elves in the inn somehow responsible.

"So," he said casually, aiming vaguely at the closest hobgoblin while keeping an eye on the rest of the room and just how drunk Vespe was, "does anyone know who's side we're on?"

Six seconds of pure action! Behlan is now in C7, his weapon ready (aiming at H2).

Also, I think Groj, Rafe and Derel might have ended up on the wrong side of the table...?

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj spins around in his seat, puts his warhammer in his lap, and leans back against the table. "Jes' stick ta yer mugs, folks," he says to the party. "We ain't got no dog in this hunt." He takes another swig of his ale, but keeps one hand on his weapon and his eyes on the combatants.

[The_JJ]

Rafe
Unarmoured and tired Rafe mutters pragmatically were on nobody's side, unless we get paid, as my old captain used to say. Then he casts Bless, lest things get dangerous.

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

"I disagree. Instead of picking no side, I suggest we wait to see who's winning and then get involved just close enough to the end to take credit for the victory".

OOC: Ready an action to cast Acid Splash if anything tries to attack Derel or Braan.

[The_JJ]

Rafe
I don't know about you, but I think I'm going back to playing field medic. Neutral field medic.

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

The boy's suggestion of choosing the winning side regardless of who was in the right was all too predictable for a conniving, gutless stankfoot. Groj was sore tempted to choose a side just to screw with him.

Then he blinked. The ale must be going to his head... 'Where was I sitting?? I thought I was...?'

Time seemed to stand still as he waited for the fight to really begin. As it did, Groj flashed back to his last bar brawl, one at the Crippled Bard Inn where he'd been working as a stablemaster for a time. The tavern's guard, a half-orc called Sadok, had brought it all to an head by proving the old adage, The only good halfling is half a halfling.

It left a hell of a mess, but the little bugger had tried to leave without paying... or so Groj had told Sadok in the first place.

Good times...

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe
Suddenly aware of the fight, Vespe unstrapped his lute and began to strum a little tune, grinning nervously. "Come on now, people, there's no need to fight, we're all friends here..." his eye twitched as he spoke the last part.

Vespe is using Inspire Courage on himself, Groj, Rafe, Derel, Behlan, and Aliron, should the party have to join in the fight. I'm not sure if you can add people to the effect, but if we do join the fight and anyone is clearly on our side, Vespe will expand the effect to them.

[Hairb]

The cloaked elf stands and begins chanting while brandishing a short cudgel made of some dark, unworked wood and making a few passes over it with a sprig of fresh green leaves. The club sprouts tiny green buds and the pulse of magical energy fills the room. Moving around the table to outflankthe hobgoblin, he shouts a message to his beleaguered comrade.

The half-elf draws a long serrated dagger and leaps across the table where the terrified peasant are seated. He lashes out at the wounded hobgoblin who is still struggling to pull the bolt from his leg, but misses.

The female elf scuttles away from the hobgoblin, upsetting the shrine which crashes to the ground. She stands and reaches for a small pouch on her belt, trying to find something in its jumbled contents.

You all recieve +1 to your attack and damage rolls, and +1 to saves against fear and charm effects. Bless and inspire courage both provide morale bonuses, the effects of which do not stack. Turns remaining: Aliron, Groj, Derel, Peasants, First Hobgoblin. The room currently looks like this (http://i428.photobucket.com/albums/qq2/Langtier/hartandharemap1b.gif).

Speakers of Elvish:
"My lord, fall back! I shall end this impudent creature! My life for Scarmoon!"

[aliron]

Aliron

Aliron unsheathes his weapons and states, "Well, since you guys have them out already in a threatening manner," but stays behind the table. "If one of those hobgoblins charge at us I'm going to cut him down. I don't think they're going to differentiate non-greenskins at point..."

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj hefts his warhammer and gets up from the bench to lean against the wall. "Hey, barkeep!" he yells. "Ya got a problem in here!"

[Kobold-Bard]

Derel

Talking to himself in Halfling while looking at Groj, Derel said "It's nice to see commitment to your ideals. Lets not get involved, instead lets draw attention to ourselves while we've got a bloody big hammer sat on the table. Genius you are", and returned to finishing his soup.

OOC: I just read your last flashback.:smalleek:..
What did halflings do to you? Did they steal your pet dog to use a war-horse?

[The_JJ]

Rafe
I've had enough. Rafe walks forward with his empty hands raised. Heyheyheyhey! Everybody just calm down!

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj heard Derel's muttering and glanced surreptitiously over at him. Naturally the halfling was a coward. He couldn't help it. A halfling would happily let a whole bar-full of his fellows gut each other as long as he wasn't harmed. Not that Groj had any desire to get involved in what was clearly a stupid, stupid fight with people far too willing to shoot first and not bother asking questions.

It reminded Groj of the time he'd been working for the militia -- his first week on the force -- and a trio of stankfeet had been cornered in an alley after robbing a farmer just outside the market. His crew had been called on to take the boys in. Naturally the little buggers turned on each other, each blaming the other and all of them blaming the farmer for misunderstanding their "rights"; by the end of it, the smarter one had managed to implicate the other two before they'd even chained them up and left the alleyway.

The two were taken to the barracks and eventually given 10 months prison time; the other one, Groj took aside and personally beat to an inch of his life. He deserved worse, turning in his brother and his wife without blinking. The little rat limped out of town that day and never came back.

'Damn stankfeet.'

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

And then there was the time Groj 'rassled a steer in front of a dozen drunks and punks, raucous men who thrust mug after mug of the best, chilled Langtier ale into his hands between rounds... that was fun... though the argument he had with Ailysha that night... well, that was not fun.

[Hairb]

As one, the seated peasants run for the bar where the innkeeper is cowering, upturning their benches in the process and hollering in fear. The downed hobgoblin kips up, dodging a thrust from the half-elf and lays into him, raining blows into his midriff with meaty fists.

The other hobgoblin swings his club into the elf swordsman's knees and is rewarded with a sickening crack. The elf drops, unconsious.

The second turn begins. Behlan's move, and the room looks like so (http://i428.photobucket.com/albums/qq2/Langtier/hartandharemap2.gif).

[vomit_bunny]

Nobody else seemed to want to get involved, which seemed eminently sensible… perhaps not jumping into someone else’s fight was a good idea.

The sickening crunch of bones breaking interrupted Behlan's thoughts.

”Screw this!”

There was nothing that he could say that would stop a pissed off pair hobgoblins from slaughtering as many of the elves as they could, however charming he could be. The elves though, he might have a chance of convincing them to call the guards if they could just get the hobgoblins subdued.

He drew his bow to full tension and let the arrow fly at the closet hobgoblin.

The rest of them could back him up or not… and hopefully cleric would be willing to patch him up if everything went horribly, inevitably wrong.


Firing at H2. Including +1 on attack and damage: bless and inspire courage bonuses.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Cyranojoe]

Grojimar

Groj hits his head against the wall behind him. 'An' here I thought Belly was straight in the brain!' He wondered if the local guardsmen would just grab everyone in the bar and line them up for hanging, or take the time to pick out the ones who had actually spilt blood. Langtier wasn't a region known for lenient sentencing, in his experience.

"Hold up! Hold up!" he bellowed. "Ain't no need ta be spillin' blood over no damned face-changin'!! Dammit!"

[The_JJ]

Rafe
Rafe hesitates for an second, and then with a heartfelt selfpiting oath he pushes past his friends on the bench and heads to the downed elf, where, with a quick prayer, he sends out some minor healing.

I think I'm in E7. 1 point of healing, I know, it's soooo useful. But I'm not that nice to NPC's.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Vespe

Vespe stood up, stepped over the table, and walked out into the middle of the tavern. The song abruptly stopped, and he held out his hands. "Stop! Stop! What are you all fighting for?"

Vespe's going to try and get their attention to make a (non-rushed) Diplomacy check. Of course, he's most likely just going to get horribly mangled for this, but he doesn't know that, now does he? :smalltongue:

I imagine he's in d6 or thereabouts. Inspire Courage will keep going for five rounds after he's stopped playing.