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  1. - Top - End - #1
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Awful's Avatar

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    Default Ic - that bitter old king

    THAT BITTER OLD KING
    CHAPTER ONE: THE TEETH OF JACKALS

    OOC


    Jegger, Joan, Bijou

    The way into New Zarian doesn't feel right. Skirting the hills, the road from Little Bluerock curved gently up towards the river. Several days travel, and normally you'd see at least one or two others walking the path. But the land seems bare, the animals warier, the stopping-houses built around the little wells along the way deserted and in disarray. At night, strange howls and yips fill the dark, like no coyotes you've ever heard.

    You've been fortunate enough to find each other - a little cluster of you heading the same way. Seems smarter to stick together.

    Something - somethings, rather - have been watching you on the trail. Distant figures, far enough away distance eats any detail, and enough time for them to scatter away before you could get close.

    Now, five days of tense travel later, the town's come into sight - but something seems wrong. There's a crowd gathered in the fields, and they don't looks happy. Anxiety carves their faces into grimaces. More than a few have weapons, openly carried, bows or spears. They've noticed, you, too, and a movement goes through the crowd. Nearby, dead horses have been dragged into a pile.

    You're not quite in earshot, yet, so you have time to react.


    -----


    Rathoran, Ganiz


    The day begins with a funeral. The sun sits sullenly overhead, a hot eye in a fiercely blue and cloudless sky. It's not quite midday, and the heat is fierce.

    Poor Jonas. Kid didn't deserve what he got.

    Last night something attacked the inn - or at least, the stables. Tore open the door. Tore open the horses. Tore open the kid, too, when he got in its way, left him broken and bled in the hay.

    Jonas' parents had got the red fever a few years back, so had he, but he'd lived and they hadn't. Barely into his manhood, he'd worked in the stables to make his way, suddenly alone in the world. He'd had a gift for horses. They'd calmed right down in his hands.

    The townsfolk are clustered around his grave, a slot hacked out the sandy soil next to the gourd fields, where tight knots of vines clench like fists around orange-shelled squashes. Their faces are grim or grieving. Everyone had felt there was something wrong in the hills. There was a feeling of it. In the air, in the turgid flow of the lazy river. People locked their doors at night and slept with one eye open. Then that ranger had arrived, saying something was there, something dangerous, and that had settled the matter.

    Jonas had slept in the stables, pitchfork in hand. He'd wanted to protect the horses, in case something felt like a bite of horseflesh. By the time the screams had stopped and people had spilled out their buildings, clutching torches and knives and rusty axes, it'd been too late for the kid. Whatever had killed him was already gone into the dusk.

    The Mayor is an old, old man, and dust and sun have shrivelled him up like a dried apple. He peers down at the grave, his eyes two moist dots in the crevices of his face. One hand trembles on the top of his walking stick. The other has his hat scrunched against his chest. He'd wheezed a few words as they'd laid the kid down.

    The bodies of the horses aren't that far off. No one's decided what to do with them. Not much wood to burn them with, but their wounds are seeping with a black ichor. No one wants to risk eating that. Even the flies, normally keen for a meal, seem to be staying away.

    A murmur goes through the crowd, and then, louder:

    "Look! Strangers!"

    Sure enough, a small cluster of humanoid figures are approaching you. Sunlight glints off their armour.

    The crowd almost seems to shiver. Children are pushed back, away. The blacksmith grips her hammer tighter. Men half-raise the rusty old spears they pulled out of storage.

    The figures aren't quite in earshot, not yet, so you have time to react.
    Last edited by Awful; 2022-06-10 at 04:45 PM.
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

  2. - Top - End - #2
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    DruidGirl

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king


    AC: 16 HP: 28/28 Ki: 5/5
    PP: 16 PInv: 11 PIns: 16

    Takings in Little Bluerock were good; for once Bijou is sitting on a decent pile of coins and some of it isn't even copper. She split a leotard doing the flywalk, and most of the trip she's sat on the cart gazing out between the ears of Molly the mule and turning the rough silk into wraps and ropes and bindings. It's too expensive to waste, and there's nothing wrong with looking a little bit of a magpie. Not in her line of work.

    For a while she'd gotten off and walked, stretching her legs and putting a few more miles on her well-worn boots, but Molly is unsettled and so is she. Besides, sitting she can play, and playing is a way to be a good neighbor when you're travelling in company. Especially company in arms and armor. Bijou doesn't need either, but she sleeps with six feet of oak wrapped in silk rags for gripping close to hand.

    Most of the way she's kept it lively, keeping the company laughing and stoking their spirits against the dark; her lute of illusions accompanying the songs with shining bubbles or dancing sparks of color.

    Spoiler: 🎶Twiddles
    Show
    Oh you hear a lot of stories 'bout the sailors and their sport
    About how every sailor has a girl in every port
    But if you added 2 and 2 you'd figure out right quick
    It's just because the girls all have a lad on every ship

    And it's Twiddle ee ai dee ai dee ai
    Twiddle ee ai dee ei
    It's often times a man will leave you broken with dismay

    And it's Twiddle ee ai dee ai dee ai
    Twiddle ee ai dee ei
    There's other things to twiddle when the men have sailed away

    But as the town heaves into view, the somber mood is clear, and without a blink she transitions into a minor key and tamps the illusions away. She does not sing the words to the grim, old song that crosses her mind, but there's no doubt many who know it. She keeps her eyes skinned for an inn where she can sing for her supper, and tries not to meet any grieving eyes.

    Spoiler: 🎶I Hear Them All
    Show
    I hear the crying of the hungry in the deserts where they're wandering
    Hear them crying out for Heaven's own benevolence upon them
    Hear destructive power prevailin', I hear fools falsely hailin'
    To the crooked wits of tyrants when they call

    I hear them all, I hear them all, I hear them all
    Last edited by TriciaOso; 2022-06-12 at 09:35 AM.

  3. - Top - End - #3
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    agignac's Avatar

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king

    Joan marched along beside the cart, sweating in her chainmail, as she'd been doing for a few days. Her first day out of Blue Littlerock (or did she have that reversed?), she'd caught up to the dark-skinned musician in the mule-pulled cart. At first she'd merely nodded a curt but polite greeting, and made to keep walking at her slightly faster pace. But the woman's silly song had entranced her, and she found herself dawdling to listen, and eventually made the proper introductions.

    The strange coyotes yipped in the night, setting her teeth on edge, and having somebody to share a fire with was just good sense. When they'd come upon the man, Jegger, the next day, it had seemed natural to include him in their small travelling band.

    Despite the deeply unsettling landscape, Joan found herself enjoying the journey. Most of the places she travelled were unsettling, and it was nice to have company. Bijou had a seemingly endless repertoire of songs, many of which Joan found herself humming late at night, while the stars shone distantly in the heavens. She fingered her mother's cracked flute, which she hadn't had the heart to throw away, and wondered if her mother had known any of these songs.

    As they finally came upon the town, it seemed they'd come to late to prevent some sort of unpleasantness. A group of townsfolk, and an unnatural pile of dead horses. Killed by predators? Disease? This didn't look like a feast.

    Stopping mid-stride, Joan assessed herself and her weapons. Helm firmly on head, covering her short, filthy hair - check. Chainmail armour, of a style quite different from what the local militias wore, marking her as a foreigner - check. Warhammer in her right hand, resting on her shoulder - check. Backpack - currently in Bijou's cart. Shield, blue with white stylized angel, also in the cart. She considered grabbing her shield, but didn't want to appear hostile and spook the townsfolk.

    Glancing across at Bijou (at 6'3" she didn't need to look up at the woman in the small cart), she murmured, "Do you want to do the talking?"
    Spoiler: Chult game links
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    Avatar by the amazing linklele

  4. - Top - End - #4
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    MonkGirl

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king

    Rathoran hadn't gotten to know Jonas well - kept her distance from most after her warning stoked the populace's paranoia - but the few times she had, it was clear he was a kid doing his best to get out of a terrible circumstance, overheard talks of him surviving an illness his parents had not all but confirming that. She showed up at the funeral out of respect, trying to keep a median distance from "close enough to entice conversation" and "far enough to be spying." Was this the all-important Wheel being cruel, she wondered, or is the source of this scourge outside of those tales the elders told?

    The Mayor said his words, but already Rathoran had turned inward, and began speaking quietly to herself to connect some thoughts. "Black ichor on the wounds is entirely unfamiliar.. Even the dead eaters decide to stay away. Maybe once this gathering disperses I'll try and gather a sample.." Snapping her out of this self-imposed trance is her little serpent Tira, flitting in front of her face close enough to reflect each other's eyes, and she holds out a hand for her to coil around. "Dearest little Tira, you find anything else?" The flying snake looks over at the horses, then to the anomaly that brought them here. "Is it the same thing, or is the anomaly too much for you to tell the difference? The one time I regret not learning animal speak..." She slumps her shoulders briefly, then allows Tira to perch on her shoulder. "You did your best, so it's my-"

    However, once the Mayor has finished, a murmur through the crowd followed by a shout interrupt her. Sure enough, there's a group of people making their way here, all armored up as adventurers often do. All the townsfolk start taking up arms and hiding their weak, paranoia in full display. She considers leaving them to it, only to realize this could go south and heave an exaggerated sigh. "Tira, let's make ourselves useful in a way that's not accidental doomsaying and get out there." the snake makes no protest, so she strolls through the crowd from behind and offers to meet these new people halfway herself, both as a show of good faith toward and additional protection from these strangers. And in her mind, not being a local probably makes the latter more palatable for the crowd, too.

  5. - Top - End - #5
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    Dr.Samurai's Avatar

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king

    Jegger
    Human Barbarian
    AC: 20 HP: 55/55
    PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
    Conditions: -
    Raging: -
    Reckless: -
    Wild Surge Effect: -

    Days Earlier

    Jegger leans over and helps Gendo find the tree stump to sit down. The old man had been leaning on Jegger for the latter half of the day's journey, and he could use the seat in the shade, I got it, I got it! Get yer hands off me! Jegger put his hands up, his palms showing, to placate the crotchety old man, and let Gendo settle in, I aint crippled, boy, Gendo snaps, before falling into a fit of coughing. Two years have passed since Gendo collapsed in the fields with a fever. Weeks passed before he recovered, but he had never fully recovered. Always coughing, fatigued, and sometimes wracked with body pain. Gendo's physical deterioration took a mental toll on the man, who often took it out on Jegger. Gendo taught everything he knew to Jegger about fighting, survival, and resilience. It was more than Gendo could bear to have these things slowly leave his body, and have to rely on Jegger, the boy he raised.

    Jegger watches the man endure the latest coughing fit, but he knows better than to go to his side. He has learned his lesson well. He turns and surveys the land they still have to cover to get to New Zarian. They probably should have been there by now, but with Gendo's condition, the moving was slow.

    Well, this is a good place as any to camp. I don't know about you but I can finish the day here.

    I don't need yer pity boy.

    Hey, you're not the only one that's tired old man. I've been carrying your bag o' bones for hours now! That thick skull of yours is heavy.

    Listen here, I taught you everything you know. Don't think this cough will sto---, Gendo freezes and his eyes fixate on something behind Jegger. Jegger whirls around, one hand to his sword hilt, the other out wide to shield Gendo.

    Back behind them on the trail, two women appear with a mule and cart. One is singing as the other hums along. Someone has been tracking their progress to New Zarian, folks deep in the hills watching them from the horizon. Jegger and Gendo have both been on edge, waiting for the attack to come. Is this the distraction? As one, Gendo scans the terrain to their right, while Jegger looks for the attack coming to their left. Nothing. Moments pass as the women get closer. Jegger's grip on his sword hilt loosens and turns into a wave, Oi, I'm Jegger.

    Arriving to New Zarian

    The last several days have gone easier since meeting Bijou and Joan. Joan is an armored warrior, as tall as Jegger and just as strong. The man was sure whatever has been tracking them would have attacked, but maybe seeing Joan and Jegger together had made them reconsider.

    Bijou had really turned things around with Gendo. He liked her songs and he'd hum along and tap his foot while she played and sang. Sometimes she'd share the space on the cart with him, or she'd walk and let him ride. Even when he was walking, if she'd play the tunes he seemed more capable to keep up. Sometime after his sickness, Gendo stopped liking Jegger. It pained Jegger, but he accepted it. As long as the old man was okay, he could be mad at Jegger, could blame him or resent him or vent at him. Jegger was up to it. But Bijou, Gendo seemed to like Bijou, she made the old man crack a smile again at times, and sometimes he got to storytelling about his life. The last five days had somehow lifted much of the weight of the last two years.

    But now they can see New Zarian, and the picture is less than hopeful. A crowd, weather-worn and grim, has gathered, dead horses piled up nearby. Some are armed, enough to be a problem. A murmur goes through the townsfolk as they see Jegger and the others.

    Joan murmurs to Bijou, Do you want to do the talking?

    A good idea, Jegger says. He waves his arms to ease some of the tension and let the townsfolk know they aren't trying to hide anything. Maybe they need help? He begins walking forward.
    Last edited by Dr.Samurai; 2022-06-12 at 09:09 AM.

  6. - Top - End - #6
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Kobold

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king

    Anger. The fool boy never should have been out there. Burying horses is bad; burying teenagers is a nightmare.

    Sorrow. No one should die that young, had a whole life ahead of him. Stepped out of one death and right into another.

    Guilt. You knew he was worried about the horses. You could have talked to him; he wouldn't have been able to sneak a stunt like this past you.

    Relief. At least he wasn't one of mine.

    Ganiz swallows a wave of self-loathing at the last of these thoughts but is unable to drive it out of his mind completely. It's not strictly true, either. Ever since Jonas's parents' deaths, he'd lived with his uncle but spent most of his time working at the stables, Adela's stables, the stables Ganiz was supposed to be in charge of. Like it or not, the two were as responsible for him as anyone was. And Marsau had looked up to him, almost like an older brother. Ganiz can't hold back a wave of tears as he notices his son's sobbing again. He puts a weathered hand on his shoulder just as he feels Adela squeeze his hand. A shake of her head communicates 'this ain't right' and the former caravan guard is forced to consider that she has even more feelings bound up in all this--she had known Jonas's parents much better than he had before the red fever claimed them. He wipes the tears from his eyes--it's a good thing they'd left Jacma and Chloe back home with their grandmother; Ganiz is sure that if they'd been here, he wouldn't have been able to keep it together.

    And then there's the horses, too. That's the problem on Ganiz's mind--that ichor was surely not anything natural--when the murmurs in the crowd announce the strangers' arrival. Seeing some of the other residents of New Zarian tighten their hold on anything that could be a weapon, Ganiz gets Adela's attention. "Hey, one of us should go check on how the girls are doing," he suggests and gestures with his head toward their son, "and take Marsau with--looks like things might start looking ugly around here."

    His wife nods and whispers something to their son then turns to embrace Ganiz. "Stay safe, alright?"

    "I'll see both of you soon."

    Once his family is on their way, Ganiz gathers his composure and gets out in front of the aggressive-looking townsfolk, waving for them to lower their arms. "Let's all just hear what they have to say, eh?" he says diplomatically, "probably just honest folk with bad timing."
    Last edited by The Hellbug; 2022-06-12 at 01:12 AM.
    Coach and Owner of Hellbug's Heroes, Sneak Kings, Sultans of Slaughter, and Commercial Cast-Offs. Season II and III runner-up. Season IV league champion. Season VII division champion.

  7. - Top - End - #7
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    DruidGirl

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king


    AC: 16 HP: 28/28 Ki: 5/5
    PP: 16 PInv: 11 PIns: 16

    Joan murmurs to Bijou, Do you want to do the talking?

    A good idea, Jegger says. He waves his arms to ease some of the tension and let the townsfolk know they aren't trying to hide anything. Maybe they need help? He begins walking forward.
    Bijou nods, and hands her lute to the old man Gendo. She leaves behind her walking stick too. Her companions are both over six foot; Bijou, just under five, should make a stark and harmless contrast, and taking a potential weapon would spoil that.

    She vaults from the seat of the cart, doing a neat tumble over Molly-mule's back, just keep her hand in, and walks towards the woman who emerged from the crowd. Roughly dressed, more like another wanderer than a peasant, and just as tall as Jegger and Joan. Thankfully the intimidating woman is joined by a more obvious townie; Bijou directs her address to him, and tries to act as if being met by the whole town clutching weapons is routine.

    "Hail and well-met, I am Bijou Terpsichore," she says. The odds that they know her mother's name out here are slim, but always worth playing. Odeon Terpsichore left an impression where ever she went. "Entertainer, brewer, and vessel of many muses. I walk these dusty roads and cruel hills to bring what comfort I can--old tales, silly songs, dancing and tumbling. I apologize that my arrival intrudes on what seems to be a bad time." She bows, doffing her shapeless green hat.

    "Along the road I fell in with these folk, and a strong shield-arm is surely a blessing in these dark days. I cannot vouch my honor for their good conduct, for we are only chance-companions, but they haven't robbed or murdered me yet." She smiles at her own joke. "In addition to these fine young half-giants, there is also an old man, weary from the road... I would gladly trade my skills for a place to rest, as is my way. Can you point us to an inn?"
    Last edited by TriciaOso; 2022-06-12 at 09:35 AM.

  8. - Top - End - #8
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    MonkGirl

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king

    Convincing the people to let her through was a trifling matter, especially after the innkeeper's husband went to lessen hostility. She was thankful for the assistance - hard to negotiate for a town when you're not part of it with no one behind you - but made sure to stay ahead on the approach in case the new arrivals were less than savory. While the new arrivals are still out of earshot, she speaks to the man "Ganiz, right? Appreciate the support. Let's see what these folk got to say, eh?"

    She listens to Bijou introduce herself, giving a chuckle at her joke, and responds enthusiastically. "Ah, an entertainer! Just what this town needs, pleasure to make your acquaintance. Rathoran Dhodom, at your service. Bit of a visitor to town myself, but some late goings-on have left them quite wary. Come, let us greet you properly." She waves at the crowd hoping to show the travelers mean no harm, and escorts Bijou the short distance to Ganiz seeing as the innkeeper had left. "Bijou here's part of a group of four just looking for a place to stay, no reason to be alarmed. Would your inn have the room?"

  9. - Top - End - #9
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Kobold

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king

    "Mhm," Ganiz grunts in assent to Rathoran. He knows it's unfair, but he'd love to see the ranger gone from New Zarian. Without her doomsaying, Jonas never would have been out in those stables in the first place. "And maybe without stirring up a bee hive this time, traveler," he adds in barely more than whisper, not bothering to hide his hostility.

    --

    When she returns with the new arrivals, Ganiz is more polite but still terse. "We do, but you're gonna to have to share rooms," he answers straightforwardly, "and you'd best be on your way in the morning. Honestly, I'd tell you to keep moving now if you know what's good for ya, but there's no way a night on the roads out there is safe right now. You've got coin for it, of course? Can't afford charity at the moment. If you don't, I'd offer a spot in the stables but..." he gestures towards the horse corpses "...you might be better off taking your chances on the road."
    Last edited by The Hellbug; 2022-06-12 at 07:21 PM.
    Coach and Owner of Hellbug's Heroes, Sneak Kings, Sultans of Slaughter, and Commercial Cast-Offs. Season II and III runner-up. Season IV league champion. Season VII division champion.

  10. - Top - End - #10
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king

    Joan steps forward at the inn-keeper's "welcome". Despite the sweat and dirt covering her, she smells faintly of lavender.

    "We have coin," she assures him. Her voice is rough, and quieter than one might expect. The quality of her voice is explained by the ring of scar tissue around her throat. (The demon had tried to strangle her with its barbed tail. It had failed.) "We also have steel. The Wheel has brought us, able and willing to fight, to this place of recent violence. Perhaps it will be our place to aid you, before we move on."

    The tall paladin speaks with a strange cadence, something not quite right, but hard to pinpoint. What is clear - with her fair skin, bright blue eyes, and strange armour - is that she's not from anywhere around here.
    Spoiler: Chult game links
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    Avatar by the amazing linklele

  11. - Top - End - #11
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    DruidGirl

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king

    "As for me, I've little enough of either coin or steel," says Bijou. "But I have beer, and news from Little Bluerock and points beyond, and stories and songs and all manner of entertainment to trade."

  12. - Top - End - #12
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    Dr.Samurai's Avatar

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king

    When Jonas returns with the new arrivals, Ganiz is more polite but still terse. "We do, but you're gonna to have to share rooms," he answers straightforwardly, "and you'd best be on your way in the morning. Honestly, I'd tell you to keep moving now if you know what's good for ya, but there's no way a night on the roads out there is safe right now. You've got coin for it, of course? Can't afford charity at the moment. If you don't, I'd offer a spot in the stables but..." he gestures towards the horse corpses "...you might be better off taking your chances on the road."

    Anything you can offer will do, Jegger says quietly, distracted by the horse corpses, Any idea what did that? Doesn't look like an animal that was feeding...

  13. - Top - End - #13
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Kobold

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king

    Ganiz nods and beckons for the travelers to follow. "Then let's get you all out of the sun," he says as he turns and begins to lead them to the inn, waving off the other townsfolk. As he passes the dead horses, he spares them a glance and mutters under his breath, "no it doesn't."

    The inn is on the main road through the center of town, a two story adobe building with sign above the door reading 'Tumbleweed Inn.' Ganiz leads the new arrivals through the open doorway into a relatively spacious but low-ceilinged and dimly lit room set with eight small tables and a bar alongside one wall. The walls are decorated with a handful of painted landscapes. Behind the counter is a woman in her early 40s with tanned skin, brown hair swept back with a bandana starting to go to grey, and wrinkles under her eyes from the desert sun. "Adela, we have guests," Ganiz announces, and her gaze lingers over each of the travelers for a moment before a patter of footsteps from the kitchen behind her catches her attention and a girl in a simple dress whizzes out from behind the counter, making a beeline straight for Ganiz.

    "Daddy!" she calls out, rushing to embrace her father, "I'm soo booored, mom says I can't go outside."

    "Jacma!," Ganiz replies, reaching down to tussle her frizzy hair, "And she's right, not without an adult, but you can help me go draw water for our guests." He nods to his wife before stepping out the back door, his daughter close on his heels.

    The woman behind the counter turns her attention fully to the guests once again. "Welcome to the Tumbleweed Inn, name's Adela," she begins, "we only have two rooms open at the moment and they'll be three silver pieces a night, upstairs, the two at the end of the hall. Cistern's out back"--she gestures to the doorway Ganiz exited through--"if you need to wash the dust off. Can I get anything for you? Water? Heated for tea?"
    Last edited by The Hellbug; 2022-06-13 at 04:09 PM.
    Coach and Owner of Hellbug's Heroes, Sneak Kings, Sultans of Slaughter, and Commercial Cast-Offs. Season II and III runner-up. Season IV league champion. Season VII division champion.

  14. - Top - End - #14
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    DruidGirl

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    Default Re: Ic - that bitter old king


    AC: 16 HP: 28/28 Ki: 5/5
    PP: 16 PInv: 11 PIns: 16

    Bijou gives the girl a wave and a smile. "I'll cover us for now," she tells her companions, and hands Ganiz's wife a silver penny and one of the odd electrum pieces she's collected.

    "There's a mule that needs stabling," she says. "And there's some small beer I've brewed along the way, if you'd be willing to serve it. It's nothing special, but a change is good as a rest, they say. I don't need anything else right now."

    Once Molly-mule is safely stowed away and the earthen jug behind the bar, she finds a corner table and gets comfortable. Soon gentle music is trickling out of the open archway and into the street.

    Spoiler: 🎶Jolene
    Show
    Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
    I'm begging of you please don't take my man
    Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
    Please don't take him just because you can

    Your beauty is beyond compare
    With flaming locks of auburn hair
    With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green
    Your smile is like a breath of spring
    Your voice is soft like summer rain
    And I cannot compete with you
    Jolene

    He talks about you in his sleep
    And there's nothing I can do to keep
    From crying when he calls your name
    Jolene

    And I can easily understand
    How you could easily take my man
    But you don't know what he means to me
    Jolene

    Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
    I'm begging of you please don't take my man
    Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
    Please don't take him just because you can

    You could have your choice of men
    But I could never love again
    He's the only one for me
    Jolene

    I had to have this talk with you
    My happiness depends on you
    And whatever you decide to do
    Jolene

    Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
    I'm begging of you please don't take my man
    Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
    Please don't take him even though you can
    Jolene, Jolene
    Last edited by TriciaOso; 2022-06-17 at 08:14 AM.

  15. - Top - End - #15
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    The townsfolk, upon the reveal that the strangers had not come to finish the rest of them off, are somewhat mollified. Something of an embarrassed shuffle shivers through them, as weapons are lowered and people mutter to each other. The Mayor nods thoughtfully, and slowly the crowd begins to fragment, returning to their own businesses. Crops still have to be tended, clothes mended, meals cooked - even if no one heads out too far.

    ---

    Inside the Tumbleweed Inn, the dim and cool are a pleasant respite from the desert sun. Drinks are provided, and the heat of a long morning in the sun begins to fade even as the temperature outside climbs towards the zenith.

    A stray sand-cat, as if drawn by the music, wanders in, curling up in a corner. Adela shoos it half-heartedly; it yawns at her, and settles down to watch the group with half-shut yellow eyes.

    Similarly so do a small cluster of people enter, refugees from the dust of the Dry. Ganiz would recognise them as, as far as the town has it, the leaders of the small settlement.

    The mayor, furrowed with time and preceded with the bone-clacks of his walking stick. He sinks into a seat gratefully, easing himself in with the careworn slowness of the man long past his prime.

    Fair, the blacksmith. She's a broad-shouldered woman, with sweat-trails in the fine ash coating on her forehead, and in a heavy leather apron with a few hefty hammers shoved through the belt. She, too, is preceded by noise:, one of her legs is a prosthetic of iron and wood from the knee down, and it gives her a slightly lopsided walk.

    Tarrin Alcay ran the general store in town, and perhaps the only one who could be rightly described as portly. His wide, flat features seem good-natured, his clothes a little finer than most of the other folk in town.

    And the fourth: Simon Morrow - or, as it seems everyone in New Zarian refers to him, the good doctor. He, for his part, is quiet, nodding politely to the strangers in their midst and murmuring greetings to the owner. He's a tall, spiny man, with a neat if greying goatee and slender, gold rimmed spectacles.

    Each introduces themselves in turn, before the Mayor turns the conversation onto what was clearly on the town's collective mind.

    "So, strangers," he says. His voice is old and husky, gnarled like an old tree. "Did you have trouble on your journey here? Just last night - why, we had an awful time of it lately. Awful time."
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

  16. - Top - End - #16
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    Kobold

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    Before the arrival

    Before Ganiz even finishes retrieving water, Adela sends Marsau to head him off and finish what he set out to do--there's a mule that needs seeing to and no one else is going into those stables if Ganiz can help it. He finds Bijou's mule out front and patiently leads her into a clean stall, gently coaxing the animal at the door when she senses that something bad has happened here recently. After setting her up with feed and water, Ganiz stares at the busted door of one of the pens--impossible to tell whether it was a spooked horse or whatever got in last night that did that. Those armed strangers have provoked his curiosity a little; he tries to make out the prints of whatever beast was there last night among the chaos.

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    After the Mayor and folks arrive

    When Ganiz gets back from the stables, he settles in a rocking chair in the corner of the inn's main room, out of the heat. Soon, attracted by the music, another younger girl, clearly another daughter, enters, and he coaxes her over to his lap where she plays with a simple cloth doll while he hums along with the music absentmindedly. As the locals start filtering in though, he acknowledges each of them and sets her down, moving to offer whatever refreshment they normally favor to each before settling back in the corner.
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  17. - Top - End - #17
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    Bijou gives the girl a wave and a smile. "I'll cover us for now," she tells her companions, and hands Ganiz's wife a silver penny and one of the odd electrum pieces she's collected.
    Joan looks up in surprise, touched by the act of generosity. "My thanks," she said. "I'll cover us for later."

    She sat upright in her seat, happy with clean water to drink. Her waterskin had gotten sand in it at some point, and she'd been drinking gritty water for days. When the cat made itself at home, she stared at it with narrow eyes. Cats were often familiars of demons, and she warned the animal, speaking in the language of her father, "These people are under my protection, beast; warn your master if you have one."

    The woman who had accompanied the innkeeper earlier entered and took a seat. Joan glanced at her, then took a double-take - she had a viper on her shoulder! Standing abruptly, she approached the woman slowly, her hand extending to grab the dangerous creature. In a low voice, she said, "Hold very still, there's a snake in your hair."
    Last edited by agignac; 2022-06-13 at 11:59 PM.
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  18. - Top - End - #18
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    Jegger chuckles nervously when Bijou pays for them, Ahaha... I'll get the next one of course. He shoots Gendo a nervous glance and the old man returns a disappointed frown.

    A handful of locals file in to sit, joining the mayor in addressing the newcomers. Jegger stays standing, feeling more comfortable on his feet in a room full of strangers.

    The Mayor turns the conversation onto what was clearly on the town's collective mind.

    "So, strangers," he says. His voice is old and husky, gnarled like an old tree. "Did you have trouble on your journey here? Just last night - why, we had an awful time of it lately. Awful time."

    We had the Fool's Luck not to get attacked on the way here. Folk were watching along the way, keeping track of our progress. But they never came much closer than the hills along the road. Couldn't make out who they were.

    Any notion of what got your horses?

  19. - Top - End - #19
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    MonkGirl

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    Quote Originally Posted by agignac View Post
    The woman who had accompanied the innkeeper earlier entered and took a seat. Joan glanced at her, then took a double-take - she had a viper on her shoulder! Standing abruptly, she approached the woman slowly, her hand extending to grab the dangerous creature. In a low voice, she said, "Hold very still, there's a snake in your hair."
    Rathoran sat down to relax - all these people here, she'd gather that ichor sample later on - when the armored woman stood rather abruptly and warned her of the snake, reaching a hand out slowly. She felt Tira tense up as the stranger reached closer, her wings stretching out to look bigger, and rather than chance a retaliation Rathoran quickly put up her own hand to gently bat away Joan's. "I appreciate the concern, madam, truly, but Tira here is my companion - hatched her from an egg myself." The snake folds up its wings and moves herself to Rathoran's other shoulder, then slides into her clothing from her neck to hide in her sleeve. "Figure it's just good manners to keep her out in the open when she wants, rather than concealed like some poison weapon. She's quite well trained." Showing this off herself, she clicks her tongue once and Tira pokes her head out of her neckline before retreating back in.

    She turns to Jegger for his tale and nods to show she's listening. "Hm. I take it their manner of dress was not similar to mine." More a statement than a question, considering the lack of recognition. Unless it was bandits with more lust for coin than sense, I know not who else would be in the desert to watch you so intently without more pressing survival concerns." She leaves the horse question to the locals, avoiding mention of such problems for the moment to avoid unjust suspicion.
    Last edited by Kushina43; 2022-06-14 at 01:51 PM.

  20. - Top - End - #20
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    Quote Originally Posted by Kushina43 View Post
    "I appreciate the concern, madam, truly, but Tira here is my companion - hatched her from an egg myself." The snake folds up its wings and moves herself to Rathoran's other shoulder, then slides into her clothing from her neck to hide in her sleeve. "Figure it's just good manners to keep her out in the open when she wants, rather than concealed like some poison weapon. She's quite well trained." Showing this off herself, she clicks her tongue once and Tira pokes her head out of her neckline before retreating back in.
    Joan froze and stared at the little winged snake, her eyes wide. "It's your pet?!" she blurted, unable to conceal her shock. The thought of having a limbless reptile slithering around in her clothes - the paladin repressed a shudder. Then she remembered the hairy spider she'd had as a child, and how she'd cried when her mother had squashed it with a shoe. 'To each her own, said the old lady kissing the cow', as Nana used to say.

    Pressing her palms together, she raised them to her heart as she inclined her head forward in greeting. "Well met, little Tira, and my apologies. I did not intend to insult." She repeated the gesture to the snake's owner, then said, "I am Joan Brighton. It is good to meet you."

    ***

    As Jegger began to speak to the officials, Joan sat quietly and let him do the talking.
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  21. - Top - End - #21
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    The stables

    The stables smell of hay, the spoor of terrified horses, and the rusting ruin of poor Jonas.

    The floor - hay-strewn dirt - didn't hold tracks well, especially with the people in and put to drag out the horses and carry out the corpse. Whatever clues might have been there have already been trampled away.

    You're about to turn and leave when something drips besides you. A filthy black splot, from...
    You look up. The tip of a spine or spike is lodged in the roof of the stable.

    Horses are tall, needing a lot of room. You imagine some indistinct monster rearing up, spikes brushing the ceiling, getting lodged in the timber like a splinter in a finger.

    Whatever did this was big, and fast, and quiet enough to sneak into town and not be heard until the killing time came.

    Not an easy job to pretty up news like that.


    Tumbleweed Inn

    The cat opened its golden eyes a little at the aasimar's words, the flowing cadence of Angels.

    For a long moment, it watches Jean. One ear twitches.

    Then it yawns, with the magnificent dismissal inherent to feline kind, and seems to go to sleep.

    The Mayor shakes his head at Jegger's question. He twists his hands on the head of his staff anxiously.
    "As far as I know," he says, and pauses to take a sip of his tea, "We know dust-all. From what you say, it must be based in the hills."

    Fair folds her arms. She had no drink, simply sitting down heavily. When she speaks, her voice is a low rumble, with a heavy clipped accent. She gives the mayor a meaningful glance.
    "Something from the mounds?"

    "Maybe, maybe," he murmurs in return, "But there would be a reason, if so."

    "What I want to know," interjects the portly merchant in the room. He had a glass of watered wine - perhaps permissible, since he was the one who sold Adela it in the first place. "is why they'd have the boldness to attack right in town but not a few strangers out on the path, miles from help?"
    Last edited by Awful; 2022-06-16 at 12:45 PM.
    And the far stars cried, and the planets yearned;
    But no man may know, for she'll ne'er return.

  22. - Top - End - #22
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    DruidGirl

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    AC: 16 HP: 28/28 Ki: 5/5
    PP: 16 PInv: 11 PIns: 16

    "If you're sure what watched us along the road is the same as what came into your village, then you know more than we do, sir," Bijou says mildly.

    "But if it was -- it came into the town, but it attacked horses, not three strapping folk with bright steel. Maybe it sneaks well but doesn't fancy a head-on fight." She looks at the sandcat. "A cat'll go into a grain silo with people all around to get at rats, but it won't pick a fight with a dog, let alone three."
    Last edited by TriciaOso; 2022-06-15 at 05:53 PM.

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    "Maybe, but this ain't a cat or a dog," Ganiz finally speaks up as he steps forward and drops what looks like the wicked tip of a spine slimy with the same black ichor from the horses onto the table, "I had another look around the stable, found that lodged in one of the rafters. Never seen anything like it. Might have been thrown, but I didn't find any others like it and the horses didn't have any in them. Way I see it, whatever it was reared up and scraped it off overhead. If so, whatever it is is big; no one or thing in that stable ever stood a chance. And no one saw or heard it coming, either." Ganiz steps back and leans against the wall, his arms crossed. "What do you mean 'something from the mounds'?"
    Coach and Owner of Hellbug's Heroes, Sneak Kings, Sultans of Slaughter, and Commercial Cast-Offs. Season II and III runner-up. Season IV league champion. Season VII division champion.

  24. - Top - End - #24
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    Jegger's eyes narrow on the quill when Ganiz produces it. He picks it up from the table and tests the point, before setting it back down and wiping the ichor off on his pants, It knows better than to attack fully armed and armored travelers. It attacked at night, and the rafters gave it a go and knocked a quill off before it left.

    It's the Fool's bet we can kill this thing if we find it.


    At Ganiz's question, Jegger looks at Fair, waiting for her answer.

  25. - Top - End - #25
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    Joan reached a hand out in alarm, to stop Jegger from touching the quill, but was too slow. She knew only too well that one had to be extremely cautious when touching or interacting any spoor of evil. She looked carefully at the quill without touching it, wondering if she'd ever seen anything like it before.

    nature (1d20-1)[9]
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  26. - Top - End - #26
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    MonkGirl

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    Ratharon studies the quill, looking all around it with keen interest, and careful not to touch it directly. "Fascinating... Certainly not a creature I've seen before." She considers taking out her dagger and a flask to gather a sample of the ichor right then and there, but with so many people here it's surely going to be misunderstood by someone. She will wait for everyone to go to sleep, maybe check out the stables. In the meantime, she agrees with Jegger's logic. "I'm in agreement there - it attacked horses and Jonas silently at night. That doesn't preclude strength in the wild, but such behavior does mean that it will be disadvantaged in open combat. That they didn't strike you all only bolsters that reasoning. I say we look for a trail and track it, finish this thing before it kills again."
    Last edited by Kushina43; 2022-06-17 at 04:05 PM.

  27. - Top - End - #27
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    Jegger's eyebrows raise, Jonas? Did he see what this thing looked like or which way it took off to?

  28. - Top - End - #28
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    Ganiz's eyes harden at Jegger's question. "The boy's dead," he answers, venom in his voice, "and if it weren't for New Zarian, here, I wouldn't be surprised if it were you all getting attacked in the night--predators are all the same, they go for the easiest prey. Only difference is there's no one to bury you out in the Dry."
    Coach and Owner of Hellbug's Heroes, Sneak Kings, Sultans of Slaughter, and Commercial Cast-Offs. Season II and III runner-up. Season IV league champion. Season VII division champion.

  29. - Top - End - #29
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    Jegger's eyes go wide in surprise and embarrassment. A boy? Dead? Uh, I uh... he looks at Gendo. The old man's frown deepens and he shakes his head and looks away, the disappointment clear. I didn't... I'm, I'm sorry.

    Jegger clears his throat, and hopes the boy wasn't Ganiz's.

  30. - Top - End - #30
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    Joan bristled at the accusatory venom in the stranger's voice. She had to remind herself that the community had just lost a boy, and was hurting. She thought briefly of her own village, ravaged by demons, of blood...she shut the image away.

    Holding up her hands placatingly, she said, "Apologies, we meant no harm. Nobody benefits from senseless death." Looking at the innkeeper, then the leaders of New Zarian, she said, "I am Joan Brighton, and it is my sacred duty to rid the lands of demons and other evils. I pledge to avenge your Jonas, to destroy whatever brought such death to New Zarian." Her low, gravelly voice was deathly serious. "Please, tell me whatever you can that will aid me in this quest. You spoke of mounds?"
    Last edited by agignac; 2022-06-20 at 01:14 PM.
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