Azr Thoth's Tavern
Furthinghome, City Of The Peacock
Aglarond
16 Marpenoth 1375

It was raining. A lot.

Overhead the sky boiled with grey clouds, almost black despite the pale light of the afternoon sun, wherever it was. The cloud-bank rolled and roiled on winds rushing in off the Sea Of Fallen Stars, with great sheets of rain driven before it. Heavy drops pounded buildings and people alike, like sling-stones from the sky. In the distance, the rain lashed buildings in great waves, bounced off and arced overhead giving the city a peculiar halo of grey light.

It was a city both fair and foul. On the west side were many fine manses and town-houses of grand grey stone and dark weathered wood. Worn cobblestoned roads led in their direction, flanked by parks and gardens where bright flowers drooped in the rain. And on the east side, tumbling down the slopes of a series of low-hills were the slums, where thatch-roofed shacks and ramshackle lean-toes floated atop a sea of mud.

North of the city was the harbour, where docks and warehouses crowded along the edge of a small, shallow bay. Here light boats huddled tightly to their moorings as they were tossed up and down by the churning sea. Leading away south from the harbour was a circular road that went right round the city, taking the traveller from the rich bright face to the poor dark heart and back again.

Few people were out on a day like this, bar those who had to be. Richer folk in bright clothes and embroidered designs and dangling jewelry scurried from shelter to shelter. Poorer folk, in clothing stained with mud carried on with outdoors work or desperately secured their shanties against the rain.

And everywhere there were peacocks, the free-roaming birds that earned the city it's name. Feathers soaking and plumage drooping, they honked and screeched their displeasure at all who passed them by. They sought shelter from the driving rain in doorways and under porches.

The closest shelter to hand for a traveller just off the docks was Azr Thoth's Tavern, situated directly on the nominal edge between the rich west and the poor east. There it could cater to the aspiring poor and the slumming rich, and all the adventurers and criminals who could squeeze in between. The place was done up in a tacky Thayan style, all red paint and golden fittings, scratched and peeling with age and ill-care. Portraits of Red Wizards and cavorting fiends adorned the walls. In the background, a minstrel played a flute, and thin piping tunes carried across the smoky air. It was a strange thing to find in a realm like Aglarond, a long-time enemy of Thay. This kind of cheap cultural import could only prosper in a city like Furthinghome, where people hungered for such exotic novelties. A peacock huddled by the door outside.

Azr Thoth himself waited just inside the door to greet visitors, a thin man with jangling rings and bangles, and bald face and head jutting up from green robes that made him look somewhat like a turtle. "Greetings! Welcome to my humble tavern. How can I help you?" he said in ersatz politeness.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:25, Thu 08 Nov 2007.

Coby hustles in out of the rain, pack held above his head.  He was used to the rain, of course - out in the wilderness, encamped, or traveling, he didn't mind it  - but in the cities  rain seemed different.  Meaner.  Colder.  It flooded the streets carrying garbage and - less desirable things - along.

He kept his head up.  He didn't want to watch the flood of peacock feathers flowing by.  It just seemed so damn sad.

The boy stands in the doorway to the inn, letting the water flow off of his hair, off of his rain-cloak, and kicked the mud off of his boots.

"A hot meal, please," he asks politely.  "and how much do your rooms go for?"

He was, admittedly, a little worried.  Getting this far had taken up the bulk of his funding.  He'd have to start finding work soon or he'd be forced to start selling his belongings just to eat, and for someone in his line of work sometimes his gear was all that stood between victory and a shallow grave.

[Private to DM BadCatMan:

Assuming I'm good to go and ready to post.  If not, just delete this.]

Azr shook his head. "I am afraid it is only a tavern I run here. Fine drinks and food, but no beds. Go to The Ailee Inn around the corner, and say that Azr Thoth sent you. My cousin will give you a discount."

Azr waved over a waitress in a short red dress and long worn face, and said "Caera, please escort this man to a table."

"Please follow me, sir." Caera led Coby through the winding passages between seats and tables in the crowded tavern. On a day as damp as this, everyone had retreated here to be out of the endless rain. The floor below was grimy with tracked in mud and dripping patrons.

Every table was full, bar one recently vacated by departing patrons. Coby realised that if anymore people arrived, he would have company. "Here you go, sir." Caera cleared the table, directed Coby to sit and handed him the menu. "When you wish to order, just wave." She flitted off through the tavern. The menu promised both traditional Aglarondan fare - the usual animals and vegetables and styles, flavoured with herbs - and exotic Thayan cooking, including the meats of some of the more common edible monsters, spiced and hot.

Coby sits at the table, privately hoping that nobody else comes into the tavern.  He's not so good with strangers.  Oh, he's polite and all - but he has trouble finding a common ground with people who have regular lives.  Lives with normal families, and regular jobs, and houses and stuff.

He just had to remember.  People like talking about the weather.  And about local rulers and their policies.  Social niceties are important.

He leans back a little, resting the back of his chair against a support column and leafing through the menu.  Giving a small, depressed sigh, he takes a quick peek into his coin pouch and browses for the cheapest thing on the menu - probably watery vegetable stew and even more watery ale.

Still, it'd be hot, and better than the trail rations he'd run out of yesterday, or the nothing he'd had for breakfast.  And, if he was lucky, it'd come with bread that he could save to eat later.

To put it simply, Duncan creaked.  And clanked.  Enamelling steel helped protect it from rust, and his heavy cloak kept the worst of the rain off his precious equipment, but the young knight of the Faithful Blade was still going to have to spend hours carefully drying, polishing and oiling his ornate armour and weapons.

But it didn't matter.  The rain matched his mood.  Duncan had lost his charge yet again, the wee slip of a girl easily evading him and disappearing off to Helm knows where.  And she had yet to return, when it had been several days.  To make matters worse, she had said she wanted to explore the woods outside of town.

Duncan had failed in his sworn duty.  Filled with contrition and shame, two things the young knight was unaccustomed to feeling (though others often felt it would do him some good) he couldn't face his masters, either those in the Order or the temporary one of Lord Berask, without atoning.  He had to find the Lady Duladora.  And for that, if he was to do so in time to rescue Duladora, he would most likely need help, given the reputation of those woods.

Stepping into Azr Thoth's tavern, Duncan basked in the dry warmth for a moment as he continued to drip water on the floor.  He grimaced at the tacky decor.  'Very poor taste' he thought, 'and badly maintained at that...'  Staring sourly at some of the patrons, he realised quite quickly that this was a den of thieves.  Under any other circumstance, he would most likely clap the majority in irons and drag them off to the local magistrate, if he didn't just try them himself.

However, Thoth's also had a reputation for attracting all sorts of adventurers - and that was just the sort of help he needed.  Throwing back his hood to reveal his handsome, but somewhat damp, features, Duncan looked about for likely candidates.

Coby notices the stranger in full armor.  He can't imagine what it must be like to wear such heavy gear all the time - he tends to only wear his own chain shirt when he expects trouble, keeping it safe in his pack other times - like now.  He's always wondered if knights sleep in their armor.  He guesses it's different for them, because of how long it takes to put on or take off.

Seeing that his table is the only one available, he waves the knight over, scooting around to make room.

Duncan spotted the young lad waving him over and sized him up for a moment.  Very young, younger than himself in fact, but confidant all the same.  Definately the outdoorsy sort, with a heavy knapsack beside him.  In a word, an adventurer - just the job.

Duncan noisely moved through the pressing crowd, but with surprising grace for all that, light, balanced amlost delicate steps.  The steps of a dancer on stage.  Or a swordmaster on the battlefield.  Which meant his grace was really unnecessary - the crowd made a hole for him as he moved.  Unsurprising, really.

It still took severally moments for Duncan to get over to the table.  Mainly because he stopped at least twice to assist harried serving maids with overloaded trays get where they needed to be without spilling everything.  Eventually, he stopped in front of the table, whereupon instead of sitting he offered a courtly bow.  "Duncan Radhe, knight of the most blessed Order of the Faithful Blades, at your service, sir."

"Well met, sir," the young man replies with a light Illuskan accent as he stands, returning a small bow, his voice cracking a little now and again.  "I am Jacob, son of Koen - you may call me Coby.  The tavern is crowded, but you are welcome to join me in a light lunch."

Azr Thoth was about to launch into his customary greeting, when Duncan strode on through. The Thayan glanced at him, shrugged, and turned back to his post.

One of the waitresses that Duncan aided had been Caera. The Aglarondan woman smiled at the knightly warrior, and drifted after him back to the table. She set down a bowl of complimentary nuts and took out a notebook and pencil. "May I take your order, sirs?" she said, with eyes on Duncan.


OOC: Prices as here:
http://www.d20srd.org/srd/equi...#foodDrinkAndLodging
Invent your own meals.

Duncan smiled winningly to the serving woman, his eyes showing warmth.  However, his tone was polite, but a little stammering - evidently attractive ladies like Caera made the young knight more than a little nervous in some way.  He jingled a somewhat thin purse before spilling five Neverwinter gold crowns onto the table.

"A flagon of good, cold mead for myself, along with a bowl of hot soup and whatever stew you have.  A loaf of bread for the table, then whatever the young lad wants that this will cover.  'Tis a cold night, and I think we're both in need of some hot food to warm us up.  Thank you, lady."

OOC: Ale (mead), a common meal and a loaf of bread in essence.

"I'll have the same," Coby smiles.  "I thank you, sir.  My travels have drained what little coin I had, I am afraid."

"I'm afraid the same is true of myself, Sir Koensson..." Duncan ruefully replied as he passed Caera two of the coins before putting the other three back in his belt pouch.  "Thank you, lady.  May I sit?"  The latter was addressed to Coby with a nod to one of the empty chairs.

"Please," Coby nods.  "What brings you to this place?  It doesn't seem the sort a knight such as yourself would frequent."

Duncan gingerly lowered himself into a rather flimsy looking chair, cringing slightly as it creaked ominiously under the weight of the muscular knight and his plate mail.  How he wished for one of the sturdy arming stools they had back at the Chapterhouse.  But thankfully the legs didn't snap under the strain, and Duncan swiftly got on with explaining his reasons for being there.

"I know, Sir Koensson - believe me, had I any other choice I would most likely be purging this place of it's scum myself.  But there is a task that I must undertake if I am to regain my honour, and from what I've heard I shall most likely need help before the endevour is complete.  I heard this place is the haunt of many adventurers as well as criminals, so it seemed as good a place as any to start looking for that help."

Koby glances askance at the knight.  "Perhaps it would be wiser to keep such ambitions quiet, given the company we keep here, sir knight.  Suppose you were to purge this place of scum.  Were you to slaughter them without proof of misdeed, who would be the criminal then?  If you were to simply bring them before a court without specific crimes to charge them with, would they even be tried?  A knight's word is worthy much, but what kind of justice can exist if no evidence is required?"

He stops himself, looking embarrassed.  "I forget my place, sir knight.  Forgive me, I am not used to the ways of cities and their laws - I digress.  I am a professional adventurer myself, here seeking a misplaced item of some value.  I'm afraid I have no leads, but I am always looking to advance my craft.  If you are looking for help, I may be of assistance."

Earlier...



Caera took the orders down and nodded. "Thank you, sirs. It should be with you in a couple of minutes." The waitress then drifted off.

Gildor walked into the tavern with his hood pulled up. He was in a foul mood to match the foul weather. He knew that ships sank, everyone knew that. But why did it have to be his ship? Stuck at sea for how many days most of his belongings lost while he floated on a piece of hull. The others were planning on buying another ship maybe having one built but Gildor had had enough of chasing pirates from horizon to horizon and was actually glad to get his feet on solid ground again. Scanning the crowd he noticed one table with only 2 men and shook the water from his cloak and attempted to squeeze the water out of his hair before heading to the table. Do you men mind if I sit here? The other seats seem to be taken.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:00, Wed 14 Nov 2007.

"Please," Coby greets, gesturing at an empty chair.  "We've ordered, but the waitress should be passing by shortly."

Thanks, Gildor replied taking a seat. The name is Gildor Inglorion originally from Siverymoon and lately come from... The sea.

Coby smiles and tips his head.  "Jacob, Son of Koen, of the Sword Coast.  You can call me Coby.  What brings you to Aglarond?"

Duncan nods gravely in the newcomer's direction as he sits.  "And I am Sir Duncan Radhe, of the most blessed Order of the Faithful Blades.  A pleasure to meet you, Sir Inglorion, you are most welcome."

Gildor arched an eyebrow, Gildor is fine, Sir Knight, Gildor said nodding to both men, Well met!

"Well met," Coby smiles.  "Now.  What brings you here?"

Gildor sighed, he really didn't want to talk about it but decided not to be rude, I was on a ship hunting pirates.; we lost a battloe and were adrift for a number of days. The survivors got picked up by a merchant vessel and deposited here. I have been hanging around here for a couple days looking for work. I doubt I'll head back to sea for a while.

"Aye," Coby nods.  "I'm low on funds as well.  Sir Radhe however is on some sort of quest.  Perhaps if we accompany him, we can solve our financial difficulties."

"Indeed.  As Sir Koensson says, there is a task I must undertake in the woods nearby.  If it's reputation is anything to go by, I shall no doubt be sorely pressed, and the assistance of some experienced adventurers would greatly increase the chance of success.  If nothing else, it should unsure there is someone to carry on if I should fall.  Might you be interested, Master Gildor?"

Well, I have nothing better to do and no set plan. Correllon knows I need to find something to do. I may as well give yoiu what assistance I can. But before I commit to anything I would need to know the details of this quest. It doesn't make sense to agree before. For all I know it could be something that my skills while considerable may not be suited for.

"I am sure that whatever skills you lack the other two of us will compensate for in spades," Coby grins.  "Endeavors of these sorts are more a matter of companionship.  And if you fear yourself unsuited, what will you do?  Sit and wait in town for fortune to find you?"

The door to the tavern opens with a creak and in steps a short drenched figure.  Pulling back the hood of his cloak reveals a grim looking dwarf with metal armor and a horned helm.  Underneath the cloak it is clear that he carries a shield, crossbow and axe along with other equipment.  He is dressed in traveler's clothing and leaves a trail of water drops as he makes his way to the bar.

Getting the attention of the barkeep, he  grunts an order for a big tankard of ale and a chunk of rare beef with bread.  As he waits for his order, he notices an odd looking group sitting at a booth nearby.

"Mercenaries.  Harumph!  Out for a person's coin and nothing more.  Still...," still, his purse being a little light the moment, it might do to hook up with a band of scraggly mercs for a while and see what kind of work there might be in this area for a barbarian dwarf.

Grunting a primative 'thanks', Grom grabs his trencher and tankard and makes his way over to the table. "Room for one more," he says, sitting his food and drink down before anyone can reply.  "Name is Grom.  I be barbarian warrior from Tumesh.  I look for work to make money.  He digs into his food, his wary eyes watching the others for their reactions.

Duncan looks more than a little dismayed at the new fellow's utter lack of table manners (or manners at all evidently) but he is nonetheless welcoming.  Standing, he offers a short polite bow to the dwarf.

"Well met, Master Grom.  I am Sir Duncan Radhe, of the most blessed Order of the Faithful Blades.  My companions are Sir Koensson of the Sword Coast and Master Gildor, formerly of the ...  I'm sorry Master Gildor, you didn't happen to mention your former vessel, did you?

As it so happens, there is a task I must undertake within the woods outside of town.  Given the reputation of that forest, it promises to be moderately hazardous - such that I feel the assistance of a capable group of individuals such as yourselves might increase the chances of my success.

I'm afraid I myself am critically low on funds, as I've been forced to expend most of the stipend granted to me by the Blades searching outside the woods, so I can promise you no actual pay.  However, you can of course claim an equal portion of any treasures we discover in the course of the mission.  Also, my immediate, albiet temporary, master may grant you a reward upon our return.  I say may, for I cannot garuntee it.  Lastly, I would happily give up my portion of any wealth obtained to be shared among yourselves, if that will provide an additional incentive.

I'm afraid other than that, I can't really give much detail without your agreement to assist me - please understand it is a rather sensative matter and as such must be held in confidence.  Might any of you be interested?"

Having said his piece for now, Duncan looks hopefully round the table at the adventurers, still standing for now.

Coby bows to Grom.  "It is good to know you," he says in perfect Dwarvish.  "I am an explorer."

He turns back to Duncan.  "There's no "sir" in my name - my blood is as common as stone, and just as honest.  I'm not a noble, or a knight, or even a gentleman.  My father was an Illuskan barbarian, my mother a sorceress from Waterdeep.  And I will offer my services on this quest - IF I find it is a good cause.  Until you tell us what it is, I can offer no promises."

Grom nods his head as each member of the party is introduced, grease from the rare meat coating his upper beard.  Wiping it away with a dirty sleave, he says,"Me with him," pointing to Coby, "Grom join if job is an honorable one.  Grom no kill innocents.  Grom kill bad people or to save life."  Grom looks Duncan straight in the eye to determine his reaction.

Caera came back, platter of meals in hand. She was surprised to see two new patrons who had appeared in the interim. She handed out the meals to Duncan and Coby, collected their money, then smoothly asked Grom and Gildor for their orders, before gliding off again.

Jorn stomped the worst of the mud from his boots as he entered the tavern.  He flipped back his hood and wiped the water from the tips of his beard where it had hung down beyond the hood's protection.

He was carrying a peacock plume in his hand, apparently plucked from the streets, and as he looked up at the tall man who'd come in with him, his small knife was already busy shaping and slitting the quill to use as a pen.

"Well, Slove, I'm not too sure where here is, but at least this tavern's dryer than the streets.  Let's get something to eat and see what we can find out."

He glanced around the room, looking for a table, the proprietor, or both.

If slove could spit fire he would be.  His voice not the best at any time seems gone in over drive.  A black board with nails down it would sound sweeter.

"I told you I hate arcane magic.  I sooner face demon from hell than have first level wizard cast spell on me."

Slove looks around the inn.

"What ever happened to us I don't know but easiest answer is some stupid magic portal or teleport spell gone very wrong.  My senses says we move half way across the world and for what reason.  Who knows."

Slove does not remove his cloak and keep his face hiden in it.

"You had better to that talking.  Find us a bed see if some one will tell us where we are."

"Sorry," Coby calls to the newcomers.  "I already asked - this isn't an inn, just a tavern.  You're both welcome to sit with us if you'd prefer.  I'm afraid this is the last open table.  I'm Jacob Koensson - you can call me Coby."

Jorn looked startled.  He'd never encountered Slove's problem with arcane magic directly before.  Still, he shrugged and nodded toward Coby's invitation. He said, "Looks like that may be a good place to start.  At least they're friendly."

He led his friend toward the table and spoke as he pulled up a stool. "Well met. I'm called Jorn, and my tall friend here is Slove.  We just found our way here to this rather moist metropolis... by the way, where, exactly, is 'here' anyway?"

He started tamping his pipe as he looked around from face to face, trying to give the impression that it was an ordinary question.

Coby gestures at the remaining seats.  "Furthinghome, in Aglarond.  Teleportation error bring you here?  My mother was a sorceress, and that'd happen to us sometimes.  My father always told me never to be upset when off course, because adventure happens where you make it."

Slove sits down.  He still hiding his face.
"Aglarond you say.  Land of half elves and wild arcane magic users.  My luck just get better."
He turns to dwarven friend.
"At least we find work here."
He turns back to coby.
"Just two thinks you should know.  One, I hate arcane magic so please use it as far away from me as possible.  Two, a sea hag would win beauty contest against me so best not look at my face."

"Two things you should know," Coby replies.  "One.  You shouldn't judge people because of their professions or the skills they possess.  Magic is a tool like any other. not that I myself have any magical talent.  It is the intent of the user that is good or evil.  A war hammer killed my grandfather.  This doesn't make all war hammers my sworn foes.  An adventurer's greatest weakness is his self-imposed limitations."

He takes a sip of soup.  "Secondly, masks are more effective than hoods.  I knew a half-orc who had some kind of transparent silk mask - he could see out, but nobody could see in."

Jorn chuckled and looked at his friend, "And if it weren't for 'one', there are some simple spells that might take care of 'two'...

His grin said there was little mockery intended, he was just having a bit of fun.

"Aye," Coby agrees.  "More spells for that sort of thing available from the gods, I'd wager, even if it were a curse."

Duncan nodded a "Well met." to the newcomers, and set about his meal. The Helmite took a few sips of the soup, but perhaps something in the foreign spices didn't agree with him, for he soon excused him and clanked off to the water-closet as fast as he could. Whatever his mission was, it would have to wait. In his armour, it could take some time.

Caera reappeared, with a frown after Duncan's retreat, and professionally took the orders of Slove and Jorn, before drifting off again.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:49, Thu 22 Nov 2007.

Coby shrugs.  "The knight was about to tell us of his quest.  We're all of us in need of either capital or something to do.  What say we band together and have us an adventure?"

Gildor greeted the newcomers warmly and sipped at some soup while waiting for the errant  knight to return from the water closet.

Slove looks at Coby.
"I know enough about magic to know what good and bad.  I hate arcane magic and it hates me.  End of story.  As for healing that was tried..."
It clear from his word and fail would be next part of the sentence.
"The mask could work however.  I will keep that useful piece of information.  It maybe useful."/blue>
Slove looks at rest of the group.
<blue>"Well as Jorn says.  We in.  We have nothing better to do."

Coby, with the exuberance of youth, never knows when to just smile and nod.  "How can arcane magic hate you?  How can it hate anything?  Stop personifying impersonal forces.  YOU hate magic because YOU have poor luck with it.  Accept that and let go of your misfortune - cling to it and it will continue to dominate your life."

Jorn, on the other hand, could just smile and nod in response to Slove's comment.  "Certainly.  We're in.  Some coin may be necessary for us to get back home, and we may learn something new and exciting along the way as well."

He seemed to gloss over Coby's comment, though you couldn't quite tell if that was intentional, or just diplomatic.

Slove turns to face Coby.  The look is really not nice.  Slove face is scared with what looks like deep burning that should have kill him.  As for pain and agony he must felt.  Being cooked alive would been kinder to him.
"Clearly you do not understand as most do not.  Magic is alive and it does have personally or to be true many personalties.  I have seen them.  I felt them."
He looks Coby over.
"If you wish I can show you my skills and tell you what item you have that magical.  If need me demonstrate I have some magic skills?"

Coby shrugs, leaning back in his chair.  "Magic is just magic.  A force, like the weather or nature.  The goddess Mystra may have personality, but that's it.  And your parlor tricks don't impress me - my mother was... is a powerful sorceress.  I grew up with cantrips as baby toys and divinations as tutors."

Slove looks at Coby.  It clear he really has said wrong thing.
"You clearly do not understand at all.  You call my gifts from my god parlor tricks.  I am sure you not worth him hunting you down for such an insult but I wait and see if he does.  I just wish you understand I know magic."
He then gins at Coby clearly being insulting back.
"As for your mother.  I was casting spells before she stopped wetting herself.  I will most like still be casting spell went your great great grandchild has just stopped doing the same."
It is clear Slove has not wish carry on talking about subject.

He then talks to Jorn
"So what we joining up to."

"Oh, you're a priest," Coby grins.  "I thought you were speaking of magic that was ARCANE.  I can assure you, I have nothing but respect for whomever you worship and whatever gifts He She or It (depending) feels fit to bestow upon you for your devotion."

There isn't a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

He pours a bit of his glass onto the floor.  "Here, a libation for your god.  May whomever you worship smile kindly upon our endeavors."

He takes a sip from his own glass.  "And congradulations for staying alive long enough to be however old you are.  I'm sorry you've only managed to achieve about the same station in life as a fifteen year old human in all that time."

There was definitely a bit of sarcasm there.

Before Slove could respond, which was probably just as well, yet another patron descended upon the table, looming over the others like a giant.

He was a tall man, tending to corpulence, and made more girthful by the plentiful clothes he wore. Billowing blue-green pantaloons led up to a frilly white shirt beneath green-blue coat lined with red-and-yellow fur. At the very top of this mountain of clothing was a floppy red Sembian-style hat. All over, the man glittered in the fire light, thanks to adornments of golden brooches and silver rings and bejewelled buttons. Somewhere in all this was a face, pudgy and pleasant, lined by a bushy red beard.

"Well met, travellers." he boomed, in a friendly tone. "Might you be of the adventuring 'profession'? If so, I may have a profitable proposition for you."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:35, Sun 02 Dec 2007.

"Coby Koensson, at your service," the young man smiles.  "I am indeed a professional adventurer.  How can I help you?"

Slove turn to newcomer.
"You welcome to join us.  Coby here was just demonstrating how stupid young humans can be.  However we welcome different direct in conversation.  So what brings you here."

"Sir," Coby warns Slove.  "Unless your god encourages such insults, I will have to demand an apology.  To me for the insult, and to your ancestors for shaming them with your arrogance."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:01, Sat 01 Dec 2007.

OOC: Coby are you talking to Slove?

PS Coby really should said yes in right place and no in right place.  But if that way Coby is then this going to be interesting group to play in.  He he.  LOL

OOC: Yea, he meant Slove.  And he's pretty much this way - he doesn't let it get in the way of his job, he's a professional - but he's still in certain ways just a kid, and doesn't know any better.

"I think if the pray is intelligent then my god would be quit happy with my insulting it if make hunt more fun.  So yes.  Chances of apology "None".  Chances of arrow in you backside "High" if get going now I give you an hour."

At which slove cracks up laughing.
He turns back to his dwarf friend.
"Aren't we missing something?"

"The Prey.  HA!  Don't forget to tell the knight that you hunt intelligent prey when he gets back.  Let me apologize to you, than.  I mistook you for a man of honor.  Looks like I was wrong on both counts."

He smiles in satisfaction for a moment before frowning.  "You seem a little slow, so let me explain that.  I mean you're neither a man, nor do you have any honor.  Threatening to shoot me with an arrow - in my backside.  I suppose you'd have to be sneaking up on me before you felt brave enough to act."

He sits forward in his chair.  "I don't trust you, and I'll not go on any journey with you.  You don't meet my standards of professionalism.  I mean, look at me!  I'm fifteen!  You can expect this sort of thing from time to time.  But ohhh you, big strong man who claims to have been old when my mother was young!  How do I know you won't run away if we face that magic you fear so dearly, or shoot me in the back at the first opportunity!  Arguing with a child!  You should be ashamed of yourself."

[Private to DM BadCatMan: Probably going to end up sitting this one out for RP reasons.  Coby suspects that Slove is a Zhent, or at least a priest of Malar, and doesn't want anything to do with him.  I don't mind - it's good roleplaying - but I don't want to slow down your game with bickering.]

With a rapidly expanding sense of dismay, Tulin looked from Coby to Slove, back-and-forthing with their bickering. They had to be adventurers, alright. Who else could be so quarrelsome and crazy?

But what was he, chopped liver? "Hrum hum." Tulin Fairweather cleared his throat, loudly and noticeably. "Personally I find ignorance and foolishness to be distributed amongst humans and elves and other races in equal measure, at any age." The statement was generalized, yet somehow quite pointed.

"Now then, if you indeed interested, will you hear my proposition? Or shall I go elsewhere to find some 'professionals'?"

Slove turns to Tulin.
"I am hunter by profession and by life.  That is where my honor lays no more no less.  If that is your idea of an adventurers then I am willing to hear your proposition.  My dwarven friend will join me I am sure.  As for the child, he speaks for himself.  To much I would say but that's up to him."
Slove has ugly smile on his face.
"Would you like drink while we talk over you proposition?"

Althought he answer the new comers question he also answering Cody.  From his words it clear sneaking up on Cody and sticking an arrow in Cody backside is an honorable thing if he declared Cody pray.

"I'm sorry, friend.  I am an adventurer - I've been doing this since I could walk - but I don't think that this one here and I could get along long enough to work together.  I wouldn't be able to do my job without worrying that he'd be waiting to stick an arrow into my back as soon as I turned away from him, and he's said nothing to make me see otherwise.  His talk of hunters and men as prey... he sounds to me like a worshiper of Malar."

Slove makes a big noise.
"Ahh"
He pulls out a wooden holy sybmlo."  It is of Solonor Thelandira.
He turn to face Coby full on.
"Ok a little bit of education for you.  O server Solonor Thelandira he is the elven god of Archery, Hunting.  I only hunt animals for food or if they are danger.  I hunt intelligent creature only if evil.  I only kill others that would kill defenseless creatures or bring demons into this world."
He turn back to now comer.
"Now let him speak so we may find what he has for us to do."

Coby just snorts and folds his arms over his chest, but bites his tongue.  He didn't care WHAT god the elf claimed to worship - he was the first of his kind that Coby had met that acted like more of a child than he was.

Jorn snapped back from his musings on how they'd gotten here only to find himself in a social situation with the same 'how did we get here' feeling.

He shook his head and shrugged before nodding to Tulin. "Greetings, sir.  We are adventurers." He glanced at Cody, "And though I've only journeyed with Slove here for a short while, I've never seen him behave with less than honor.  Let's put it down to pique at being jerked what seems like most of the way across Faerun in a few steps, and move on, please."

He returned his attention to Tulin, "And I, for one, would love to hear your 'proposition'.  I find myself suddenly far from clan and home, and will need resources to find my way back.  Who knows? Maybe the Finder of Trails himself set me on this path, and I'd hate to miss an adventure! _{Especially because of some minor quibbles.}""

Gildor sat impassively for a while and listened to the back and forth bickering, <purple>You two are worse than a drunken sailor with a belly full of grog. Why don't you both just put your egos back in your backpacks long enough for this gentleman to make his proposal? COby, as a follower of the Seldarine myself I know that no preist of theirs would literally shoot you in the back unless you had it coming so obviously it was a jest. So can we please move on? And you sir priest please do not speak such about the young human's mother. They tend to take offense at that sort of thing.

Slove looks at Gildor almost for the first time notice the other elf.
Slove shifts his feet.  It seems he in to mind to get up and leave or not.  He look over at Jorn.  His dection to stay with Jorn out weights his which to leave.
He does however close his hood around himself.
"Brother do you server one of Seldarine or follow there guidance in general?"
A nasty smile crosses his face.  He says something softly to himself.
[Private to Gildor Inglorion: "That why I said it.  I have my issue.  Why do you think I left my forest."  At this point you realize Slove wood elf."]

Coby bows to Gildor.  "Many apologies.  It was weak of me to be drawn in by the nonsense of fools."  He looks to Slove.  "Be silent so our guest can tell us of his needs.  Act your age, for the love of Toril."

"Ah, Coby I see you got to last resort, when all else fail, start ordering people around.  It always works.  Any more order you like me to ignore?"

"Here's an order:  Stop embarrassing yourself and shaming your god with pointless bickering," Jimmy suggests.  "Unless you consider yourself down at the level of a teenage human?  Seriously, you're the least elfish elf I've ever met."

He points at Gildor.  "See him?  Elegant, a bit aloof, but classy.  That's the way elves act.  You're acting more like me than you are like him.  I have an excuse:  I'm young.  If you're so old, how come you're just as childish as I am?"

Tulin opened his mouth and closed it, several times, making him look like a gasping fish as he tried to get a word in. Finally he shook his head softly, turned and departed, muttering about looking for 'professionals'.

He didn't get far.

Silently and smoothly, a few figures detached themselves from the crowd and made a bee-line for Tulin. One, a heavy-set man in leathers and mail with a sword at his hip laid a thick hand on the merchant's shoulder, an apparently friendly gesture. Two more appeared in front of him, one a bored-looking girl with black hair and pale skin, the other a weedy looking man with hungry eyes, both in plain traveller's clothes. Tulin stiffened at the contact, unsure of the newcomers, but then the group began to talk animatedly, though the merchant didn't relax.

Perhaps he'd finally found his professional adventurers?

[Private to Gildor Inglorion: The warrior was tense, ready. One hand was never far from the hilt of his sword, and the other on Tulin's shoulder was in the manner of a thug who wishes to be subtly threatening.]

[Private to Jorn Brightcaller: The bored girl and the weedy man didn't look like much, but then, mages didn't have to. Jorn could see their hands hanging by their sides, fingers crooked ready for spellcasting.]

Coby leans over, straining to listen in.

[Private to DM BadCatMan: Listen +7: 20]

Slove turns to Gildor.
"I think you had better go save our new employer and find out what he want.  There is no point anybody talking to use with me Cody here."
Then Slove sits back but watches Tulin and group he with.

Jorn followed Tulin and tried to slide in smoothly at one side of the man.  Playing the merchant, he interrupted the others, trying to sound as though he was simply picking up an ongoing conversation.

"Please, forgive my friends. They spend too much time in the wilds, and not enough time around civilized folk.  Let me buy you a drink, and we'll talk over your needs.  Once we're on the trail of your problem, I'll vouch for their professionalism."

He looked at Tulin, but tried to keep his peripheral vision on the newcomers in case they were offended by his interruption.

[Private to Coby Koensson: Coby pricked his ears, his training allowing him to easily make out the conversation despite the din of the tavern. Even still, he couldn't make out all the words, but there was enough to get a general understanding of the conversation.

The weedy-looking man introduced himself and his friends as adventurers and said Tulin "looked like a man in need of help."

Tulin agreed, and was relieved to find adventurers "who can behave with professionalism." He introduced himself as a merchant and explained that he  had "misplaced a certain objet d'art... of no intrinsic magical value, only to certain collectors..." He stressed the last part, probably to indicate that said item couldn't be easily stolen and sold independently. "It is a -"

Frustratingly, Jorn interrupted him at this point.]

Tulin looked down at Jorn. "Thank you for the offer, good dwarf, but I believe that I have found some people to help me now." he said, then added "Unless your two groups would like to work together? I am sorry; I am not familiar with adventuring etiquette."

The weedy looking man spoke, in a high, reedy tone. "I find that I and my people work much better alone." He cast a disapproving glare over Jorn. "Else we would only be stepping on eachother's toes."

The warrior butted in, much less subtle. "Yeah, back off short stuff. You snooze, you lose."

Coby springs to his feet, a bright smile on his face.

"Friends, friends, no need to argue!" he interposes himself into the general group.  "Tulin, forgive for my earlier behavior.  It was rude, dishonorable, and there is no excuse for it."

He hangs his head in shame.

"I do not blame you for doubting our professionalism.  I would myself, were I you.  However, I would suggest to you that the more people seeking a lost object, the likelier it is to be discovered!  In this instance, were you to offer the job to both our groups - giving pay only to the group that finds it - your chances of success have doubled at no additional cost to you!"

He looks up, smiling.  "Competition is the heart of commerce!  We will be competing against each other, and therefore, work all the harder to find whatever it is you seek!"


"Plus," he mutters to Tulin.  "An enterprising man could make a fortune taking bets on the outcome of such a venture, regardless of which team finds the goal."

Slove sits and keeps his mouth shut.  He good at doing that.

Gildor watched the two men with disdain. He had a bad feeling about them. Without being overtly threatening he dropped his hands in his lap and rested them lightly on the hilts of his swords.

Jorn nodded to Coby's suggestion. "Why not?

He turned back to Tulin and the other adventurers. "If the idea is agreeable to you, why not explain your needs to both groups, and only pay the one that brings back whatever you need?

"The time and effort would surely be too much for the losing party in such an endeavour." the weedy man commented. "Not to mention the effects of the competition..." he added slyly.

Tulin frowned and rubbed his bearded chin as he considered Coby's idea. He wasn't particularly interested in either party, to be honest. The first appeared to be adequate, even if they bickered like children. The others... they were suspect and intimidating. Something bothered him.

The merchant looked around from face to face, considering each one and appraising their nature and capabilities. He stared hard at the two elves, Slove and Gildor, with an uncertain discomfort.

Finally he shook his head. "No, no, I think it would be best if I hired these... gentlemen, and lady, here -"

The warrior's hand, still on his shoulder, patted him heavily, causing the merchant to stagger. "Yeah, he don't want to talk to you lot. Scram, find your own quest-giver."

"An excellent choice. We shall not disappoint. Let us be off." The other adventurers turned and began to steer Tulin away.

Jorn shrugged. "The decision is yours, of course, Saer Fairweather.  But if you get tired of being bullied by those who should be seeking to help you, my friends and I shall be here."

He smiled and bowed slightly to Tulin, then turned back to his table and his drink.

Coby shrugged.  "It's only to be expected, I suppose.  They seem afraid of the competition anyway.  I'll make sure to inform our paladin when he gets back from the restroom."

The others turned and pushed their way through the crowd with Tulin escorted firmly between them. They soon sank into the crowds.

[Private to Coby Koensson: At the last, the pale girl with the raven hair - she'd be cute if she didn't look half-dead - glanced back at Coby, a slight smile cracking her normally expressionless face. She winked, and was gone.

She seemed naggingly familiar...


I rolled you a Diplomacy check earlier - 7 - hence the lack of result. :) ]

Coby discretely slips off after them.

[Private to DM BadCatMan: Moving silent and listening to try and get enough of the gist so that we can go after whatever it is they're hunting and beat them to it.]

Jorn thought for a minute to see if he could help Coby in any way.  Not being over stealthy himself, and not being able to come up with anything he could do to help, he settled back down at the table, trying to follow Tulin and the others with his eyes.

Coby moved deftly through the crowded tavern, ducking waitresses and dodging patrons, and altogether avoiding the blank gaze of the pale girl who occasionally turned around to watch that they weren't followed.

He got close enough to Tulin and his new 'friends' to hear a brief snatch of their conversation - "Perhaps we should go some place quieter?" Tulin nodded his assent "My warehouse, we'll go there." - bfore the din of the common room drowned it out. The group began to head for the exit.

Watching, Jorn saw Coby trailing Tulin and the others towards the exit, but nothing else unusual.

Coby returns briefly.  "I've got a bad feeling about this bunch... and at the very least, we can beat them to whatever prize this guy's looking for.  They're headed for his warehouse - I suggest we follow and try to see what they're all on about."

Slove looks at Jorn.  He really does not trust Coby at all but go if Jorn agrees.

Jorn glanced back at Slove and shrugged. "We'll have to find something to make some money if we're ever going to get home.  Why not this?"

He slid from his seat and followed Coby, but stayed well back, keeping the young human just in sight.

The adventurers swiftly finished their meals and waved for the waitress. Caera was swiftly on the scene to collect plates and coins. "Thank you sirs for dining at Azr Thoth's Tavern. We hope you enjoyed your meal and return in the future."

Coby thought to leave a note for the Helmite priest Duncan Radhe, if he ever returned from the water-closet. It explained that they were off to visit the merchant Tulin Fairweather. Coby left it with Caera, and followed the others out the door.

Outside, it was still raining, heavier and harder than before if such a thing were possible. The city of Furthinghome was washed in grey, and little could be heard beyond the desperate splash and splatter of the rains. Behind them, a peahen honked in abject misery. Nothing could be seen of Tulin Fairweather or his abductors.


OOC: Subtract some coppers for what you think you ate and drank:
http://www.d20srd.org/srd/equi...#foodDrinkAndLodging

Everyone make Listen checks, at -4 penalty due to the rain.

Slove pays his money and walks outside.  He looks up at rain and smiles.

OOC:
01:52, Today: Slove rolled 12 using 1d20+3. Listen.

Jorn smiled up at the waitress, paid her a bit more than the meal was worth and slipped out into the rain, still trying to follow Coby.

20:36, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 13 using 1d20-4. Listen.

05:07, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 12 using 1d20+3. Listen.   Forgot, does my armor check penalty apply to listen?  If so... it's 11.

Coby stands very still, listening.

They all heard it, under the noise of the rain. A screech of metal, a meaty thud against a wall, and raised voices.

Knowing instinctively what the sounds meant, they ran in their direction, coming quickly to an alley that ran down the side of Azr Thoth's Tavern. There they saw a group of people clustered, haloed by the driving rain. One stood watch in the alley mouth. Further down was the unmistakable bulk of Tulin Fairweather, held against the wall by the thug seen earlier in the tavern. The two mages stood by his side, interrogating him.

The one in the alley-mouth shouted a warning, and the two groups noticed eachother. The ones in the alley began to draw weapons and spells.

Round 1:


C: Coby Koensson
J: Jorn Brightcaller
S: Slove

T: Thug 1
V: Thug 2
D: Weedy Mage
M: Goth Girl Mage

F: Tulin Fairweather

Initiative:
23 - Thug 2
22 - Slove
11 - Coby
11 - Jorn
1  - Thug 1, Weedy Mage, Goth Girl

Spells & Effects:
Rain: -4 ranged weapon attacks
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:38, Mon 31 Dec 2007.

Without a word or fanfare the lone thug guarding the alley assailed the motley crew that had come upon the scene.Closing the distance with nigh unatural speed he falls upon one of the figures to the flanks,eyes smoldering with cold purpose.He strikes true,his heavy pick puncturing armor and sinking deep into the elves flesh.



 OOC:Actions

Viijan uses his rage ability
Viijan makes a charge attack against Slove

22:08, Today: Secret Roll: Viijan rolled 28 using 1d20+10. Viijan Attacks w/Heavy Masterwork Pick vs Slove.
22:13, Today: Secret Roll: Viijan rolled 10 using 1d6+6. Viijan Heavy Pick Damage vs Slove.
22:15, Today: Secret Roll: Viijan rolled 4 using 1d6. Viijan Skirmish damage .
Total Damage:14

[Private to DM BadCatMan: Viijan designates Slove as his target for the "dodge" feat.
Incase Slove retreats,or the opportunity presents itself otherwise,Viijan will make an attack of opportunity.
00:29, Today: Secret Roll: Viijan rolled 10 using 1d6+8. Damage for Attack of Opportunity.
00:28, Today: Secret Roll: Viijan rolled 12 using 1d20+8. Attack of Opportunity .

Viijan will end his attack occupying the space to Slove's right,placing Slove between himself and the other PC's:)

]
This message was last edited by the player at 08:31, Mon 31 Dec 2007.

Cody and Viijan find out what Join knows.  Slove not the pushover elf most of his race would seem.  Viijan will quickly realize he may not pick on easy member of group.

In a move that seem almost to quick to be possible Slove swings his bow onto his back and draws his two hand sword.  His hood is flung back so poor Viijan can see his face.  He screams in unearthly scream.

He swings his sword deep into Viijan with almost insane smile of pleasure.

OOC:
Quick draw on sword.
Rage.
I will use my free 20 = attack be 29.  No critical allow.
23:54, Today: Slove rolled 13 using 2d6+7. damage.

HP 28/14(+8) Sa: +5 +7 +3
This message was last edited by the player at 23:58, Tue 01 Jan 2008.

Holding back his revulsion at Vijan's lust for slaughter, Coby smoothly steps to the side, shortswords flashing, flanking Vijan as he attacks.


[attack 1: +1 shortsword - +7 to hit, -6 two weapon, +2 light, +2 TWF feat, +2 flanking = +7 to hit.

19:37, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 15 using 1d20+7. Miss.


attack 2: MW shortsword - +6 to hit, -10 two weapons, +2 light, +6 TWF feat, +2 flanking = +6 to hit.

19:37, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 8 using 1d20+6. Miss.

Of course, if Vijan is already dead, he'll just run over to D7 and wait out of sight around the corner for someone to run by.]
This message was last edited by the player at 09:26, Wed 02 Jan 2008.

Jorn tried to get around Viijan, and called to the thug that was pinning the merchant to the wall, "Let Saer Fairweather go!"

He punctuated his command with a burst of missiles from a wand that he pulled from his hip.

OOC: I can't tell where Viijan is (or Coby either).  If I can move around Viijn without taking an AoO, I'm headed toward H7.  If moving means an AoO, he'll just take a 5' step away from Viijan to any open square.

18:56, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 9 using 2d4+2. MM damage.

The thug holding Tulin shuddered beneath the rain of magical blasts. He let the merchant go, though Tulin remained where he was, pressed hard against the wall.

Turning to face his attackers, the thug grinned and drew his sword, and began to advance. But the leading mage laid a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, a slight smile cracking his stern visage.

Beside him, the girl in black raised her pale arms into the air, murmuring some eldritch words, and the grey skies above darkened.

A patch of shadow erupted around the adventurers, and from it stepped two skeletal warriors, clad in rusted armour and wielding broken swords. The blades slashed down with the clacking of bones. One cut Jorn across the cheek, the other was deflected by Coby's swords. [3 damage to Jorn]

The other mage strode out ahead and stood in the alley's mouth. He drew back his head and opened his mouth wide, then blew a great gout of greenish gas. It billowed out of the alley and over the adventurers, bathing them in a sickening stench. The skeletons fought on, oblivious to the stench.

Everyone make Fortitude saves, DC 16, or be sickened for 1d6 rounds.
http://www.d20srd.org/srd/cond...Summary.htm#sickened

Round 2:



C: Coby Koensson
J: Jorn Brightcaller
S: Slove

T: Thug 1
V: Viijan
D: Weedy Mage, should be in F5
M: Goth Girl Mage
1: Skeleton 1
2: Skeleton 2

F: Tulin Fairweather

Initiative:
23 - Viijan
22 - Slove
11 - Coby
11 - Jorn
1  - Thug 1, Weedy Mage, Goth Girl

Spells & Effects:
Rain: -4 ranged weapon attacks
Sickened: -2 attack, damage, saves, skills, ability checks

Comments:
Please give me your positions using the grid letters and numbers, and don't PM them. There was confusion over where Viijan intended to be, which affected Coby and Jorn's actions. I've taken a compromise between all 3.

Viijan, I think a charge has to be directly towards the opponent, rather than off to the side. Unless I'm missing something about Scouts.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:59, Fri 04 Jan 2008.

Jorn shook off the effects of the gas with a grin. "You'll have to do better than that, I've been in mines that stunk worse that that."

He jerked his waraxe loose from the straps that held it and lashed out at the closest skeleton.

21:03, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 10 using 1d10+1. waraxe damage if needed.
21:03, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 12 using 1d20+4. Waraxe attack

OOC: Doubt that'll do much good...

Viijan retches with a violent spasm as the cloud overtakes him unexpectedly.Without dropping his guard he disengages himself from Slove and rushes from the cloud to have a word with his companions who's indiscriminate use of force just may have been the last straw in this business arraingment.

"Did that...amuse you...Dreen?"The outrider hissed ,almost doubled over from the magic assault.

OOC:
Actions:
Withdraw from combat,move to square F1

Viijan failed his savings throw.
21:58, Today: Viijan rolled 7 using 1d20+5. Fort check.

Slove turns toward direction of foul magic.
"Evil arcane user1."
He really could not care about person that had attack him and gone.  He blood filled with hate to very thing he fears most.
Unable to get to magic user right away he attack their creation right in front of him.  He rushes to skeleton and hits it.

OOC:
00:53, Today: Secret Roll: Slove rolled 10 using 2d6+7. damage .
00:52, Today: Secret Roll: Slove rolled 15 using 1d20+9. Attack.

Keeping a wary eye on the skeletons, Coby slips ahead and makes a quick strike at number 2, missing yet again.

[21:15, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 11 using 1d20+6. Attack.
21:14, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 20 using 1d20+6. Fort Save.
21:13, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 9 using 1d20+7. Attack.]

The adventurers battered their blades at the skeletons, but with their rusty armour and hard bone, they could do little but chip at them. Only Slove's ferocious strike hit home, knocking the head off one skeleton. The skull bounced off, landing with a splash in a puddle.

The skeletons waved their swords at their attackers in return, but they were easily fended off. Their bony joints had been made slick and slippery in the rain.

"You did run out there." Dreen cast a dispassionate eye down at the retching Viijan, as if to consider his state. "You'll live." he said, with some pity.

The other thug, Tal, smiled at Viijan as if to emphasise Dreen's point, and calmly crossed his arms to watch the fight. He still stood close to Tulin, though the merchant had made no moves to escape.

Mora smirked and raised a pale hand and slim finger to point at the melee at the end of the alley. A grey beam lanced out and struck the elf warrior in the chest. Slove staggered, weakened and losing his grip on his sword. [-3 Strength penalty to Slove]

Round 3:

C: Coby Koensson
J: Jorn Brightcaller
S: Slove, moved to G9
V: Viijan, moved to F1

T: Thug 1, slightly wounded
D: Weedy Mage, moved to F2
M: Goth Girl Mage, moved to F3
1: Skeleton 1
2: Skeleton 2, badly damaged

F: Tulin Fairweather

Initiative:
23 - Viijan
22 - Slove
11 - Coby
11 - Jorn
1  - Thug 1, Weedy Mage, Goth Girl

Spells & Effects:
Rain: -4 ranged weapon attacks
Sickened: -2 attack, damage, saves, skills, ability checks
Slove takes a -3 Strength penalty

Jorn swung again with his axe, but slid on the wet street, causing the blade to go wildly wide.

21:20, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 10 using 1d20+4. Axe attack.

Viijan seethed,he was not one to be sleighted,and no amount of coin could buy a man the right to insult him,this deal was off.

The outlander said nothing in reply to Dreen's comments as he withdrew a wand from his belt and muttered it's activation in attempts to heal his wounds


OOC:Actions

Use Wand of Cure Light wounds on self.

20:36, Today: Viijan rolled 8 using 1d8. Cure Light wounds healing roll.
20:35, Today: Viijan rolled 15 using 1d20-1. use Magic Device skill check

Coby swings his shortswords at the damaged skelleton, managing to actually strike for once.  "About damn time," he mutters.


[05:05, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 7 using 1d20+6. Attack.
05:05, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 7 using 1d6+2. damage - Favored enemy.
05:02, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 16 using 1d20+7. Attack. ]

oops, forgot the +1 damage for the +1 short sword - should be 8 damage.  If we're using critical failures, that's a 1 on the second attack with my masterwork shortsword.

Slove is fed up with skeleton and goes for what is making really mad.  The spell caster.  However he swings little wildly.


OOC:
Move G4
23:23, Today: Slove rolled 9 using 1d20+7. Attack.

Slove slipped around the skeletal warrior in an effort to get at the vile necromancer. But the skeleton turned about, and raised its sword, about to slash at the elf's exposed back. But Coby was ready, and jammed the tip of his enchanted blade into the skeleton's spine, and gave it a savage twist. Vertebrae popped out, and the undead warrior collapsed into a pile of old bones and rusted metal.

Quickly the pile crumbled into dust, made muddy by the rain, and faded away to whatever nether realm had spawned it.

The remaining skeleton aimed a wild swing at Jorn - a blow better judged against a human, for it whistled harmlessly over his head.

Slove charged into the alley and broke up the gathering. "Get him!" Dreen screamed, more for Viijan's benefit. The mage began to mutter darkly to himself.

The other thug, Tal, grunted and stepped in closer, sword stabbing towards the elf's gut. Slove only just managed to twist away, and the blade cut across his side. [7 damage to Slove]

The girl's hand glowed an eldritch black, and she swatted at Slove, though he easily dodged the feeble attack. Annoyed, she stepped away from the elf.

Dreen meanwhile had finished conjuring his spell, and a hideous shape boiled out of the air. It was a squat blubbery form, warty and sprouting bristly hairs. Spindly arms and legs gave way to massive twisted claws. The ghastly head was mostly a mouth full of sharp fangs and slathering drool. Gnashing and snarling, the fiend roared at Slove.

[Slove, make a Will save DC 12. If you fail, you become Frightened for 4 rounds: http://www.d20srd.org/srd/cond...mmary.htm#frightened
If you succeed, you become Shaken for 1 round: http://www.d20srd.org/srd/conditionSummary.htm#shaken ]



Round 4:

 ABCDEFGHIJ
1   | V |
2   |MD |
3   | F |
4   | TS|
5   |   |
6___|   |__
7
8    1
9    JC
0----------

C: Coby Koensson (F9)
J: Jorn Brightcaller (E9)
S: Slove (G4)
V: Viijan (F1)

T: Tal, Thug 1, slightly wounded (F4)
D: Dreen, Weedy Mage (F2)
F: Fiend (F3)
M: Mora, Goth Girl Mage (E2)
1: Skeleton 1

F: Tulin Fairweather

Initiative:
23 - Viijan
22 - Slove
11 - Coby
11 - Jorn
1  - Thug 1, Weedy Mage, Goth Girl, Skeleton, Fiend

Spells & Effects:
Rain: -4 ranged weapon attacks
Sickened: -2 attack, damage, saves, skills, ability checks
Slove takes a -3 Strength penalty
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:50, Thu 10 Jan 2008.

Jorn called to Coby, "Go! Help him! I'll finish this one."

He put his best effort into it, whipping the axe around again.

15:53, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 23 using 1d20+4. Axe attack.
15:54, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 8 using 1d10+1. Axe damage.

Viijan's face cringes in disgust at Dreen's communing with hell as the fiend steps foot into the mortal realm,a blasphemy.Viijan's eyes leave the fiend and focus on Dreen who's back now faced him,it was time to let him know what he thought about Dreen's battle tactics.The outlander let his heavy pick swing back low behind him and then in a great arc brought it high before snapping his muscles tight and bringing the weapon straight down towards the top of Dreen's skull with the intention of braining him.

OOC:Actions

Attack Dreen

17:55, Today: Viijan rolled 10 using 1d6+5. Viijan Pick Damage vs Dreen.
17:51, Today: Viijan rolled 17 using 1d20+6. Viijan Pick Attack Roll vs Dreen.

In the event that either Mora or Dreen move away or cast a spell,Viijan will make an attack of opportunity.Viijan will make an attack of opportunity against whoever takes action first,but would prefer it be Dreen:)

17:58, Today: Viijan rolled 9 using 1d6+5. Potential attack of opportunity damage.
17:58, Today: Viijan rolled 13 using 1d20+6. Potential Attack of Opportunity.

Coby nods briefly to Jorn before kicking off and away from the skeleton, ducking out of arm's reach in a gangly sort of tucking roll towards the action in the alleyway. 

[21:44, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 22 using 1d20+6. Tumble.]

He dashes ahead low, bringing his shortswords up and under Tal's ribcage.  (moving to whatever Tal's flank is, F5 or E4)

[21:59, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 22 using 1d20+6. Secondary Sword.
21:59, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 16 using 1d20+7. Primary sword.

Uh, with flanking bonus that's 24 and 18.

Assuming both hit, that's 1d6+1 +d6 sneak attack on the first attack, and d6+d6 sneak attack on the second.

22:02, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 9 using 2d6.
22:02, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 8 using 2d6+1. Primary sword damage. Total: 17 damage.]

Slove swing his sword at Tal.  If he going down then one of this ugly group is going down with him.
The magic cast at him has little or no effect.  It seems though his rage he carried on.
One thought goes through his mind "This seems good as any place to die."


OOC
23:53, Yesterday: Slove rolled 12 using 2d6. damage .With a +4 Str.
23:53, Yesterday: Slove rolled 19 using 1d20+5. Attack.
23:45, Yesterday: Slove rolled 23 using 1d20+3. Will save.

Total Damage 16
This message was last edited by the player at 02:13, Tue 15 Jan 2008.

Jorn swiped his axe at the skeleton, and managed to chop off its sword-arm. Enraged, the undead thing took a swing with it's bony stump, but completely missed the dwarf.

Dreen had had his back turned to Viijan, not expecting the mere henchman to turn against him. Mora shouted a quick "Look out!" and the mage turned just in time to see the blow. As it was, the pick rammed into his shoulder, cracking his collarbone and spraying blood.

Beside him shadows formed around Mora, and the air grew unnaturally cold. The chill bit into Viijan, reminding him of death and decay, of loneliness and despair. Then the necromancer stared deep into his eyes, and Viijan felt the world grow dark... Feeling the foul magic, the warrior shook it off in a rage.
[You were Shaken. You made the save against being Blinded however. The Shaken effect has now passed. Your AoO missed.]

"Damn you!" Dreen spat blood at the warrior. He risked a glance backwards to see his other henchman being overwhelmed, and shouted "Let's go! We have what we came for!"

Tal quickly deflected Slove's strike with his forearm. The desperate move saved his life, but left him with a deep painful gash. Then he staggered as Coby appeared behind him and drove his blades between his ribs.

Hearing the order, he slinked under Slove's sword and retreated along the wall to the other end of the alley. Slove swung his sword after the thug, but only succeeded in hitting the wall. [AoO - missed.]

Dreen ducked away from Viijan and hugged the wall. The warrior made a furious strike at the mage, but his blow was made clumsy by the debilitating magic cast on him. On the other side, Mora nimbly skipped past.

The three villains met up at the end of the alley. Dreen stopped a moment, and swore something in a foul tongue. Then the group dashed around the corner and were gone - leaving the adventurers to deal with the vicious fiend.

The demon raised it's head and let loose an almighty burp. Greenish gas billowed out from its maw and poured down over the adventurers, filling the alley with sickening fumes. [Fort DC 13 or be Nauseated: http://www.d20srd.org/srd/cond...ummary.htm#nauseated
For as long as you're in the cloud and 1d4+1 rounds after.]

Round 5:

 ABCDEFGHIJ

      @@ _M___T_D
    |@  |
1   | V |
2   |   |
3   |MF |
4   |C S|
5   |@  |
6___| @@|__
7
8    1
9    J
0----------

C: Coby Koensson (F9)
J: Jorn Brightcaller (E9)
S: Slove (G4)
V: Viijan (F1)

T: Tal, Thug 1, severely wounded, withdrww
D: Dreen, Weedy Mage, badly wounded, withdrew
F: Fiend (F3)
M: Mora, Goth Girl Mage
1: Skeleton 1, damaged

M: Tulin Fairweather

@: Edge of Stinking Cloud

Initiative:
23 - Viijan
22 - Slove
11 - Coby
11 - Jorn
1  - Thug 1, Weedy Mage, Goth Girl, Skeleton, Fiend

Spells & Effects:
Rain: -4 ranged weapon attacks
Viijan: -2 attack, damage, saves, skills, ability checks
Slove: -3 Strength penalty
Stinking Cloud: Marked on map
Nauseated: Unable to attack, cast, or concentrate. 1 move action per turn only.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:27, Thu 17 Jan 2008.

Jorn cautiously circled the skeleton and lashed out again with his axe.

OOC: 5' step to F8. Let me know if I'm close enough to need a save on the cloud, or just roll it for me.

21:32, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 10 using 1d20+4. Axe attack.

Coby gasps as the putrid gas invades his lungs.

[ooc: 05:37, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 9 using 1d20+6.]

He staggers away, stumbling out of the nauseating cloud, trying to prevent himself from vomiting.

[ooc: moving to e6]

Viijan's eyes flared as his blow connected,his teeth clenched tight in unison with the blow as his bloodlust ran riot.The outlander loosed a feral shout as Mora's dark magicks assaulted him,his battle maddend eyes turned upon her as she dodged his counter attack and fled with the others.Ever vengeful and brutal in his ways,Viijan's message to Dreen was not yet finished.The halfbreed from the steppes held his breath and charge round the alley corner in pursuit of Mora,her death would put an exclamation mark on his statement.With a grunt, a backhanded stroke of the bloody pick bore down towards the magelings back.

"Curse yourself Dreen for crossing an outlander of the Steppes!"




OOC:Actions

Viijan succesfuly saves vs Nausea
21:58, Today: Viijan rolled 13 using 1d20+5. Save vs Nausea.

Viijan follows and attacks Mora
22:09, Today: Viijan rolled 14 using 1d20+6. pick attack vs Mora.
22:09, Today: Viijan rolled 6 using 1d6+5. pick damage vs Mora.
22:10, Today: Viijan rolled 2 using 1d6. Skirmish damage vs Mora for moving at least 10 feet.

In the event that Mora opens herself for an AoO
22:11, Today: Viijan rolled 11 using 1d6+5. AoO damage vs Mora.
22:11, Today: Viijan rolled 11 using 1d20+6. AoO vs Mora.

Viijan designates Mora as the target for his "Dodge" feat.+1 to AC vs her attacks

Jorn circled the skeleton, looking for an opening and edging closer to the action. The bone-warrior followed the dwarf, raised its rusty sword to strike - then toppled into a heap of old bones and bits of metal. Silently, the remains of both skeletons crumbled into dust and faded away.

[Duration is up!]

***

Viijan rushed up on Mora, ready to strike with a vengeance. But the girl turned around, and fixed him with her dull dark eyes, and he was hit by the same cold force as before. Something chilling gnawed at his animal subconscious, and Viijan found that he could not, dared not strike this witch. His pick, pulled back, fell well short. [You failed a save and were Shaken. It's gone now.]

Mora smiled, and her fingers began to twitch. Too fast for Viijan to strike her, she'd flicked a pinch of dirt at his body. The steppe-warrior, already sickened and fearful, couldn't dodge in time, and neither could he resist the spell's insidious effects.

Viijan's lungs felt sore. Then he began to cough, soft at first but rapidly increasing until he couldn't stop. Wracking pains stabbed into his chest as he gasped for air and could get none. Muscles spasmed with the effort. Finally he collapsed to the puddled cobblestones, clutching at his throat. Puffs of green and brown smoke drifted out of his mouth, piling into clouds around the fallen warrior.

The witch-girl blew a kiss, then skipped off after Dreen and Tal.

[She successfully cast defensively. You failed a fort save, and are now Paralyzed for 6 rounds. Anyone approaching Viijan's Sickening Cloud must make a DC 16 Fort save or be Sickened.]

***

Back in the alley, Tulin Fairweather clutched at his throat, turning green with the demon's stench. Desperate to flee the fiend, the merchant stumbled away. The demon turned to strike his prey, but Slove swung his sword over its head, catching its attention. The merchant got away unharmed.

Slove had endured worse sickness in the past, and still did, so at first the sickening cloud affected him little. And so he remained in the fight, to slay the demon.

The demon turned to face its attacker, and lashed out with claws and fangs. Three bloody streaks opened up on Slove's belly, and the fiend chomped on his arm. [7 damage to Slove]

[Slove's attack missed. Slove made both saves against the Stinking Cloud.]

Round 6:

 ABCDEFGHIJ
       oooo
      @@oVoo__   M
    |@  |
1   |   |
2   |   |
3   | F |
4   |  S|
5   |@  |
6___|C@@|__
7
8     J  T
9
0----------

C: Coby Koensson
J: Jorn Brightcaller
S: Slove
V: Viijan

T: Tal, Thug 1, severely wounded, withdrew off map
D: Dreen, Weedy Mage, badly wounded, withdrew off map
F: Fiend
M: Mora, Goth Girl Mage

T: Tulin Fairweather

@: Edge of Stinking Cloud
o: Sickening Cloud

Initiative:
23 - Viijan
22 - Slove
11 - Coby
11 - Jorn
1  - Thug 1, Weedy Mage, Goth Girl, Skeleton, Fiend

Spells & Effects:
Rain: -4 ranged weapon attacks
Viijan, Paralyzed: may not move
Slove: -3 Strength penalty
Stinking Cloud: Marked on map '@', Nausea effect, Fort DC 13 each round inside cloud, lasts as long as you inside and for 1d4+1 rounds after
Sickening Cloud: around Viijan, marked on map 'o', Sickening effect, Fort DC 16 or be Sickened
Coby, Tulin: Nauseated
Sickened: -2 attack, damage, saves, skills, abilities
Nauseated: Unable to attack, cast, or concentrate. 1 move action per turn only.

Coby leans against the wall, waiting for his nausea to pass.  "By the gods," he chokes out.

Jorn stood and chanted out the words of his spell.  A moment later, a glowing beetle, about 6' long, appeared next to Slove and tried to chomp the fiend.

OOC: Summon Monster II, Celestial giant bombardier beetle, two rounds remaining.

21:57, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 7 using 1d20+2. Celestial beetle bite.

Viijan felt the cold,night rain smattering his face and heard it keeping a steady rhythm against his shield as his body lay in the filthy street,the necromancer's magic leaving him in a heap and billowing gas like a chimney.Viijan feared magic,it was not bound to the natural laws that governed the body and the sword.Yet he did not despair though he knew not what would come of this devilry,for he was single minded in dogged determination as a beast at war,yes the half breed knew fear but it was conquered by will and fury.Viijan would have grinned could he as the witch dissapeared with a parting and mocking kiss.

I'll return that soon enough,Mora,grace that pretty young flesh of yours.

OOC:Actions

Take a tactical nap!
Man Mora is a trixy vixen,but I swear upon all that is text and turn based I'll have her head!

Slove hacked at the foul demon, he scored a hit but it slid off the fiend's slick leathery hide. In response, the demon lashed out again with claw and fang, slashing across the elf's belly. Then the noxious fumes got to the warrior elf, and he between the pain and the sickness, he could barely hold his sword.

[7 damage to Slove; knocked to 0 hp; Nauseated]

Round 7:

 ABCDEFGHIJ
       oooo
      @@oVoo__
    |@  |
1   |   |
2   |   |
3   | F |
4   | BS|
5   |@  |
6___|C@@|__
7
8     J  T
9
0----------

C: Coby Koensson
J: Jorn Brightcaller
S: Slove
V: Viijan

T: Tal, Thug 1, severely wounded, withdrew off map
D: Dreen, Weedy Mage, badly wounded, withdrew off map
F: Fiend
M: Mora, Goth Girl Mage, withdrew off map

B: Jorn's Summoned Beetle

T: Tulin Fairweather

@: Edge of Stinking Cloud
o: Sickening Cloud

Initiative:
23 - Viijan
22 - Slove
11 - Coby
11 - Jorn
1  - Thug 1, Weedy Mage, Goth Girl, Skeleton, Fiend

Spells & Effects:
Rain: -4 ranged weapon attacks
Viijan, Paralyzed: may not move
Slove: -3 Strength penalty
Stinking Cloud: Marked on map '@', Nausea effect, Fort DC 13 each round inside cloud, lasts as long as you inside and for 1d4+1 rounds after
Sickening Cloud: around Viijan, marked on map 'o', Sickening effect, Fort DC 16 or be Sickened
Coby, Tulin: Nauseated
Sickened: -2 attack, damage, saves, skills, abilities
Nauseated: Unable to attack, cast, or concentrate. 1 move action per turn only.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:00, Sun 27 Jan 2008.

Coby stumbles away from the cloud, still retching, to stand gasping near Jorn and Tulin.  "Are you," he manages to gasp between retches, "all right?"

He turns to Jorn.  "Let's get him somewhere safe."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:36, Sun 27 Jan 2008.

Jorn answered, "I've got to help Slove!  Sucking in his breath, he jerked his axe loose from its harness and charged.

17:25, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 8 using 1d10+1. axe damage.
17:24, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 22 using 1d20+6. Axe attack (charge).
17:20, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 13 using 1d20+2. Celestial beetle bite.
17:19, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 14 using 1d20+7. Fort save.

"Help him come to his senses," Coby suggests, retching again.  "There's nothing more to be gained here - we've saved Tulin, the villains are fighting amongst themselves.  The summoned fiend will dissipate soon enough."

Coby moved out to offer what little aid he could to the helpless merchant, while Jorn took his turn in the toxic cloud.

Jorn slammed his axe hard into the demon, but its tough hide protected it from the worst of the damage. The dwarf opened a small cut that bled a stinking black fluid. [DR resisted most of that damage.]

Beside him, the beetle latched on to the demon's arm with its mandibles, but couldn't get a firm grip to begin chewing.

Bleeding and retching, Slove staggered out of the cloud, safe now that Jorn and the beetle could keep the fiend at bay.

The demon slashed its claws, one slipped across the beetle's shell with a horrible screeching sound, the other cut across Jorn's arm. [2 damage to Jorn]

Then it lunged out with its jaws towards Jorn's head - then reared back, wailing.  The demon seemed to bubble and boil and fade away as it was sucked back to the Lower Planes. Finally it was gone. Shortly after, the green smog also faded, dispersed on the winds and in the rain.

Leaving an empty alley, and three adventurers, one merchant and an ex-thug all bleeding or retching. And a lot of rain.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:38, Tue 29 Jan 2008.

Jorn shook his head to clear the worst of the fumes, then knelt and poured a potion from the pouch on his belt down Slove's throat.

19:04, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 5 using 1d8+1. potion of CLW to Slove.

"Sir," Coby asks Tulin, "do you have a place we can escort you back to?  These streets aren't safe, and we're all a little banged up."

Slove accepted Jorn's potion, grateful he no longer had to try to hold his guts in.

The merchant, green-faced and queasy, coughed and gagged for a few moments before replying to Coby "My warehouse... but those ruffians may - head for there and... try to ambush us..."

Tulin waited until he could speak more properly, and added "I saw one attack the others - I think he fell over there..." The merchant pointed down the alley, where from around the corner someone's arm could be seen flopping and twitching on the puddled ground like a stranded fish. Greenish fumes wafted about the alley's end.

"Don't get too excited," Coby explains.  "They were probably fighting over who would get to keep what percent of the take.  Scum like that double-cross one another all the time.

Lets just leave him for the guard to collect - I wouldn't feel right slitting his throat while he was helpless."

Jorn looked at Tulin. "If your warehouse is guarded well, maybe we should go back to the pub for a while.  If they stand in this rain for long waiting to ambush us, they'll either get tired and go away, or be cold and sore by the time we do go.  In the meantime, maybe you can tell us what you needed help with."

"That's sound," Coby agrees, "but if they're after something in the warehouse they'll just take it.  Is that a concern Tulin?"

Slove throws up.  The evil spells cast on him slowly being cleared by his body.
"Seems I will not die in this street today."
He nods to Jorn.  This is Slove usual way saying thanks.  Once he has moment has start casting his own spell and touches himself.

After casting the spell he looks at stat of other members of party to see if they need his aid as well.

OOC:
10:16, Today: Slove rolled 6 using 1d8+1. CLW spell.

Used to dealing with Slove, Jorn just nodded back.

The dwarf bore a few scratches, but nothing serious.

Tulin shook his head, spattering extra rain drops off his floppy hat. "No, no, it's not there. I've already lost it." He grimaced at the memory, then explained what had transpired.

"I was hired to transport a certain objet d'art to Glarondar, but I lost it in the Yuirwood. These ruffians demanded to know where. I - I'm afraid I told them..."

He sighed and added "I can't imagine why there were so interested. It's a hideous thing of no particularly great value - a drinking vessel made from the horn of a black dragon..."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:19, Sun 03 Feb 2008.

Coby swears.  "Sir, I'll be honest with you.  That vessel is a cursed artifact, bringing ill fortune to whomever holds it.  It's dangerous as well - my contacts believe that the Cult of the Dragon seek it for use in their hideous ceremonies - perhaps in the creation in a new Dracolich.  I have to recover it before it's too late."

He looks at Slove and Jorn.  "Will you two aid me in opposing this foul magic?  For the good of all Faerun?"

A big wicked smile covers Slove face.  Something in what Coby said seem to be funny to the elf.
"Foul Magic you said.  Well you know what think of Arcane magic Coby.  So if want my help you got it.  As for going into Yuirwood.  Now will be great fun."
He turns to Tulin.
"How much information did you give the others on where you lost it.  Also how did you lose the item.  It may help us find it first if know how you lost it."

Jorn shrugged. "I'm with Slove.  I'll be glad to help out. Maybe there'll be something I can learn out there too."

"Excellent.  We're in a race, now, against those criminals.  I suggest we depart as soon as possible."

Tulin blanched. "Cult of the Dragon? Oh dear..."

He composed himself, then pointed down the alley at the unconscious figure. "In that case, perhaps you ought to apprehend that man..."

Jorn shrugged. "I suppose we could, if the watch here is the sort that would take your word for what happened here, Saer Fairweather.  I'm new here, I don't know what they're like."

"For myself, it looks to me like his fellows turned on him.  Maybe that'll give him reason to rethink his own path.  I'd say leave him here.  It looks like he's out, but not in danger of dying... unless he drowns in the rain."

Leaving the talking to the dwarf Slove casts another healing spell on himself.

"He can give us the information on his colleagues," Coby considers, rubbing his hairless chin, "and has a score to settle.  His desire for revenge may be of use."

He walks over to Vijan, gesturing for Jorn to follow, shortswords drawn and ready.

"Oi, get up, you!" he shouts, prodding him with his toe.  "You're in big trouble, you are!"

[Private to DM BadCatMan: Trying to keep Vijan in the game, should his player be able to rejoin us.]

Viijan groaned and rolled over, splashing into a puddle. It seemed that he wouldn't be moving for quite a while.

While the Slove and Jorn watched him, Coby and Tulin dashed off to fetch the city watchmen, who it turned out were harder to find as they'd all been taking shelter from the incessant rain. Coby and Tulin returned with a squad of leather-clad pike-wielding watchmen in tow.

Some watchmen shackled Viijan and carried him off to the gaol, still unconscious. The lead watchman took their statements, and Tulin took the lead. The merchant was curiously evasive about the events, instead painting a tale of simple muggers ambushing him in the alley, with "these good and brave sirs here coming to my rescue." Coby, Slove and Jorn couldn't help but go along with the story, between the flattery and the occasional promise of a reward.

The watchmen cleaned up the mess, while a priest passed around healing magic to fix the worst of their injuries, especially Slove's.

Finally Tulin led them back into the tavern, where the first thing he did was to buy stiff drinks all round to steady his nerves.


OOC: 12 hp cured for Slove; Jorn at full health

"We shouldn't tarry overlong," Coby tells the others.  "They've already got a head start, and there's no telling what foul magics they plan with that cursed relic.  We've got to get it back, and into the hands of those who can dispose of it as soon as possible."

Slove looked at the dwarf giving him ugly smile.
He then turns to Coby.
"Slow down Coby.  Make sure you have what you need."
He then turns to Tulin.
"I would skill like to know how you lost the item and how far into the forest you where.  Such information maybe more valuable that just running into forest.  for that mator why did you end up in forest in first place."
Slove clearly want some answers before running after the others.
It clear Slove understanding of forest make him less ready to run into it then others.

"Yes, Slove," Coby rolls his eyes.  "I'm not suggesting we dash off immediately.  I merely suggest we hurry up.  I may be able to track the others if we pick up their trail, unless they can disguise their passage magically."

Before leaving the watchmen, Jorn thanked the priest for his healing.

As he enjoyed his drink, he listened to Tulin, and only nodded as Coby and Slove asked their questions.  He didn't seem to have anything to add or ask yet.

[Private to DM BadCatMan: Is there anything I can come up with from a Knowledge check?]

Tulin mopped his brow, clearly shaken by his experiences. He took a long sip of his  drink, and began his tale. "I run a business exporting and importing goods, all around Aglarond. Some days ago I was approached by a man from Sembia, he wanted me to transport a small item of treasure from here to Glarondar: a drinking horn carved from the horn of a black dragon, bound in platinum and studded with jewels. A tacky thing, but he said a collector there would pay handsomely for it."

He took another sip and went on. "So we loaded up the wagon, my teamsters and guards and I, and we took the road across the Yuirwood. With permission of the Masters of course. But... the journey took rather long than I liked. I was anxious to complete the task and receive payment. I think now that the horn made me uncomfortable, I wanted to get rid of it as quickly as possible. And the payment at the end was an incentive, of course."

"So when we came across what looked like a shortcut to Glarondar, I felt an urge to take it. Uh, the Masters of the Yuirwood aren't particularly strict about trespassing, you see, but still, I'd rather they didn't know..."

"The forest became thicker and more overgrown, but we made good time. When it came time to camp for the night, we looked about for a suitable place. A scout discovered a small clearing, so we headed for there. But there was a problem..."

Now he glanced guiltily in the direction of Slove. "There was a stone circle, like the ancient elves of Aglarond used to build. It was intact. Now, we didn't touch it or interfere with in any way, and we certainly didn't go inside," he insisted. "But there was no other option. I'm really sorry. The Masters probably won't approve, so I'd really rather this stayed between us."

"So we camped, with no problems. Well, uh, young Dynn had nightmares of bizarre monsters, but nothing else. But the next morning, I went to check on the horn - I don't usually, but I felt I had to - and it was gone."

"We looked about everywhere for it - but not inside the circle, certainly not - hoping it had been simply lost. My men are honest, and I've confirmed that none of them was responsible. Finally, we had no choice but to head back to Furthinghome. I went to apologise to my client, but he was nowhere to be found, which worried me more. Later, I heard rumours that he was a mage of power, and the name he'd given me was false. That worried me even more."

"Hoping to have situation resolved quickly and discreetly, I came here in search of adventurers to find the horn. Though I didn't expect Dragon Cultists."

The merchant produced a scroll and unwound it on the table to reveal a map of Aglarond. With a pencil he dotted in a trail leading through the forest, and marked an X at the end, deep in the Yuirwood. "You'll find the circle here, at the end of this trail."

[Private to Jorn Brightcaller: Knowledge (History) 22, Knowledge (Arcana) 18: In ancient days, the Yuirwood was home to the elves of Yuireshanyaar. When humans and orcs began to encroach on their territory (Untherite settlers on the southern coast and later invading orcs in the OrcGate Wars), many of the elves fled to another world, leaving behind ruins and monuments to their culture, including mysterious stone circles.]
This message was last edited by the player at 04:57, Fri 15 Feb 2008.

"How can we contact the Masters?" Coby asks, "For permission to enter?"

Jorn added, "Sounds like the horn led you there. I remember that the old Star Elves of the Yuirwood built lots of circles before they left this world for some hidden realm, but I don't remember any stories about evil, and the Masters work hard to protect the wood from evil powers.  I can't imagine what a horn that was obviously so evil was connected to in that wood.  Might be interesting to find out though."

"Did young Dynn tell you more about the monsters from his nightmares?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:44, Sun 17 Feb 2008.

Slove looks at Tulin Fairweather.
"What ever wrong you did I think the lost of the item has paid for it."  The simple answer tell Tulin that slove considers the subject closed.

"It would be best to contact the master first.  They may have additional information.  If we really lucky they know where the horn is."

He then think about whole picture.
"What are we going to do with item if we do get back.  I want know before we start."

"I have some contacts among the Harpers," Coby says in a low voice.  "They can dispose of this cursed thing safely.  That's actually why I'm here - hunting the horn.  But our opponents are already on its trail, and they won't stop to ask the masters of the wood for permission.  We have to get going."

"I thank you." the merchant nodded and said to Slove.



"It was Dynn's turn for the watch. He was meant to wake the next man, but had obviously fallen asleep. The next morning he said that he saw, well, claimed that he saw... hideous creatures. A monster with four arms and two heads. A skinless dog with no head but a huge snake sprouting from its back... He claims that he saw them appear in the circle before he fainted dead away." He shuddered and tried to dismiss the idea. "But if that were so, then why didn't they attack us as we slept? No, he's got to be covering for falling asleep on watch. Dynn is an excitable lad, and I think he ate too much cheese before bed."



Tulin shook his head. "You don't find the Masters. They will find you, at the forest's edge or thereabouts. And please," he added "Remember to be discreet."

Coby nods.  "Right.  I'm for setting off right away.  Do either of you need any preparation?"

"Unless the creatures he saw were summoned from somewhere else and the circle held the bound..."

OOC: Any ideas what they are?
06:52, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 21 using 1d20+6. KS: Planes check.



Jorn shook his head. "I'm ready."

"Could have just been a vision," Coby suggests.  "Often they include creatures that exist nowhere but in the mind.  I think they're called metaphors."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:07, Sun 17 Feb 2008.

Slove was not really intersted if the why and if over monster the man thought he saw.

"I am always ready to move Coddy.  I have all I need."

Slove starts to walk of slowly.
"See you soon Tulin."

Coby gives Tulin a smile and a wave before heading off after Slove.

"Slove," be begins slowly, "I may have misjudged you, and I apologize.  Let's try and work together peacefully to defeat this evil."

[Private to Jorn Brightcaller: Jorn could think of a dozen creatures with four arms, but two heads was rather more difficult to place. Given the vague and unreliable description, it was hard to say what the creatures might have been. But the dog-like creature nagged at him somehow, like something out of a long forgotten nightmare.

Once, when he was but a small child at his mother's knee, she'd told him tales of  a boogeyman out of dwarven myth: Gormauth Souldrinker, the Lurker Deep Below. His hunting hound was said to be a dog with runes for skin and no head but a snake's maw erupting from its back. The beast hunted and devoured young dwarves who strayed too far from the clanhold and into unexplored caves.

Clearly it was just a tale told to frighten young dwarves. Nothing like that could really exist...]

"One more thing..." Tulin interrupted, and reached into his purse. The merchant produce a handful of coins which he passed around. "For saving my life. Thank you. There shall be much more if you return with the Grail."

"If they show up, I shall tell your acquaintances what happened. If they are willing, I'll shall send them after you as back-up." He took off his floppy hat solemnly. "I wish you luck."


OOC: 100 gp each.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:44, Sun 17 Feb 2008.

Rising back out of his thoughtful reverie, Jorn shuddered as though at some half-remembered nightmare.

When he was handed the coins, he bowed his thanks to Tulin. "And thanks for the wish of luck as well.  I only hope that we don't have to sink to luck instead of knowledge."

He glanced at his companions, the bag jingling in his hand. "And maybe we should use this to speed us along our way.  I don't know about you, but I would certainly travel faster on a horse than on these short legs.  And while I have some rations, if this trip runs longer than a tenday, I'll be getting hungry.  With a horse, I can carry more food as well."

OOC: Looking for:
Light horse      75 gp
Riding Saddle    10 gp
Saddlebags        4 gp
20 days feed      1 gp
10 days rations   5 gp
This message was last edited by the player at 02:11, Tue 19 Feb 2008.

Coby quickly heads out to the livery stable, eager to finance a new mount.  He'd name him Felix.

[Private to DM BadCatMan: picking up:

light horse    75gp
bit and bridle  2gp
riding saddle  10gp
saddlebags      4gp
rations (10)    5gp

leaving him 4gp for his stash.]

Slove give Jorn a sideways look.
He wiggles his noise is unpleasent way.
"You know what I think about the stupied animals.  Only good for eating."
He again wiggles his noise.
"Food however maybe useful.  It stop me having to run around trying to fill your fat belly and so wast time."
Slove grins at dwarf and winks.  He then heads off with him find some food.

OOC:
10 days rations.  5gp

Coby stares after Slove.  "He's riding with you," he tells Jorn.  "If he refuses to ride, he's staying behind.  We can't afford to move at an unmounted pace."

Slove turns to Coby.
"Leave me behind if like.  I don't care.  But if you stand by your statement then you must put your money and life behind it or shut up making such stupid comments."
Slove spits on his hand.
He says something in elvish which clearly a clerical oath.
He then says it in human.
"Solonor Thelandira who I serve.  I will walk to forest and you can use a normal horse from stables in town.  If you leave me behind I will give 10% of all I ever gain in money to your god.  If however I prove that in race I could get to the forest before you on your horse with all your luggage then you must spend 10% of all your money on buy land back from your human kind and turning it into free forest that any may hunt feely in.  You yourself but become it guardian.  With temple to your own god as well.  That only far."
Slove look a the boy dead in face.
"Are you willing back up your words with clerical oath and your life work or are you just blowing of wind?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:48, Tue 19 Feb 2008.

Coby laughs.  "Elf, only a fool would make or take such a bet, and only a fool's god would sanctify such an oath.  Unless you worship a god of trickery, you should beg forgiveness for attempting deception in your god's name, to earn something so petty as coin."

He turns to go, calling over his shoulder. "Use divine magics to expedite your travel to the wood if you must, but don't think me some fool who doesn't know the powers of the gods."

He raises his hands to the sky.  "Lady Tymora, should the elf Slove never say another foolish thing, I vow to wager 10% of my earnings in your gambling halls!"

He turns to Jorn, laughter ebbing. "I'm serious.  I'm not waiting for him."

Slove falls in with Jorn.
"Do you think Coby will ever stop telling me what a can and can't do?"

Tulin sighed. Clearly this was going to be a long journey for the adventurers he'd hired. Fortunately, he wouldn't be going along with him.

The merchant bid them farewell and the adventurers headed off to the livery stables to buy some horses on the edge of town. The rain had at last let up, with only a few brief drizzles and an ever-threatening dark sky to promise more.

They found some good Aglarondan-bred steeds for a good price, though Slove stayed out of the purchasing. It seemed he was serious in his bet about walking or running all the way there. The coming journey would tell if he was right or not.

After organizing other supplies, they were at last ready to set off, across the countryside of Aglarond and into the mysterious Yuirwood.

Jorn shrugged to both comments. "I've seen Slove move.  He's fast.  If he thinks he can keep it up all the way to the wood, I'm willing to see if he's right."

"Fast is irrelevant.  A healthy man can outpace a horse in a short sprint - but overland speed is a matter of endurance.  And a horses heart and lungs are much bigger than a human, elf, or dwarf's.  No, if he's able to move faster than a horse and maintain the pace for just as long, there's some sort of magic afoot - via god, arcana, or artifact.  The barbarians of my homeland are fast indeed, but even they have the good sense to ride horses on long journeys."

It seems Slove had enough of Coby objection and ignoring him.  He waits for Jorn and sets off with him leaving Coby to do what ever he wanted.

Coby is more than happy to ignore Slove in return.  "Jorn, where is it you hail from?  I take it you're not local to this area either.  The fates have bound us together on this venture, and it would do us well to understand one another."

Jorn just shook his head at the back and forth between Coby and Slove.

"I was born in the Great Rift, and spent many years traveling deep beneath the surface, but recently I came to the surface to find new paths to travel and new things to learn. My mother was one of the xothor of Dugmaren, but I didn't follow her path.  Still, knowledge is important to me.

I met Slove here in my first trip to the surface.  He and his companions rescued me when I'd been captured by a wizard."

Coby nods.  "Both of my parents were adventurers.  I grew up around it, the culture.  Never spending more than a week in any one place, up and down the Sword Coast.  I grew up around elves, and magic, and the clerics of all sorts of gods.  When I was very young I stayed at camp with whomever drew the short straw - usually my "uncle" Hegg Proudfoot, but I think he rather enjoyed playing with me than tromping around in ruins."

"When I was old enough, they began taking me with them.  I'd hang back out of combat, but I gradually went from carrying Hegg's tools to being taught by him to disable traps, find secret doors, and solve puzzles.  My father and his warrior friends companions taught me the art of the blade, though I still prefer to avoid combat when possible.  Another "uncle", Cthwylln - he's since gone to Evermeet - taught me the ways of the woods."

The adventurers set off on the road to the Yuirwood, with Coby and Slove doing a very fine job of ignoring each other. Conversation was, as a result, stilted, with Jorn needlessly communicating information between the two.

They traveled over lush farmlands on gently rolling hills, bright fertile green and soaking wet. There were vinyards where grape vines grew on endless rows of lattices, though the grapes had all been picked now. In the fields, horses and cows cropped the grass, and lowed and neighed their discontent.

The sky overhead had calmed to a miserable grey, finally rained out and sullen. The road beneath was a well-trodden dirt track that ran alongside the River Orl. The waters were running high and sluggish.

On the road ahead, travelers could be seen.

Jorn reined in his horse and glanced at Slove and Coby. "My eyes aren't great.  What do the two of you see over there?"

They were some distance ahead, but squinting, the adventurers could make them out. Three people on horse-back, one a large man in standard traveling gear, another a tall man in red with a sword, and the third a small girl with blond hair, wearing a dress.

Two men and a woman, and the sizes seemed about right. It wasn't unlikely that their quarry had chosen to disguise themselves.


OOC: Jorn, Slove and Coby, make Spot checks DC 20 to correctly identify the others. The two groups are 680ft apart.

Coby peers carefully towards the figures, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand.

[Private to DM BadCatMan: 05:06, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 25 using 1d20+7. spot.]

Jorn squinted, but couldn't see anything more.

20:07, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 10 using 1d20. Spot check.

Coby had the best sight, and peered intently at the travelers ahead. The large man had a staff, the warrior had a different type of sword, and the woman wasn't quite as short and appeared to be an elf. All in all, they probably weren't their prey.

"It's not them," he sighs.  "Just some other travelers."

Slove looks at the group.


OOC:
18:17, Yesterday: Secret Roll: Slove rolled 27 using 1d20+7. spot.

Slove confirmed Coby's identification, and even corrected him on a few minor details.

They continued on in this way, choosing not to disturb the other travelers. There'd been no sign of the thugs from the alley either; perhaps they'd loitered in Furthinghome too long, or had rushed ahead and disguised their passage with magic. Either way, time would tell.

After an hour or two, the signs of farmland began to peter out and vanished altogether, leaving rolling hills and shallow valleys, all covered in wild grasses and speckled with copses of trees. Ahead on the horizon lay the brooding green mass of the Yuirwood; they would reach it's edge by sunset.

The road became a dirt track, and the progress of the two groups slowed and the distance between them decreased, as they negotiated winding trails and steep paths and cast their eyes about for possible ambushes. The Yuir elves and half-elves discouraged human settlement too close to the forest, so this land was untamed and uncivilized. Anything could lurk out here.


OOC: Spot and Listen checks please. Ranger-types might want to pay attention to their tracking abilities too. :) The two groups are 120 feet apart.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:04, Thu 06 Mar 2008.

PL:
[Private to DM BadCatMan: 08:39, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 8 using 1d20+7. Spot.
08:38, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 16 using 1d20+4. Listen. ]

Coby dismounts briefly, looking carefully for any tracks that might exist.
[Private to GM:

04:57, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 16 using 1d20+6. Track.
04:55, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 12 using 1d20+7. listen.
04:55, Today: Coby Koensson rolled 10 using 1d20+7. spot. ]

Slove very happy to see the wilderness appearing.  He now walks with spring in his step which keep up with horse very easy.

He almost laught when he sees Coby get of his horse.
"Can't you see what going on around you from such a hight and fast beast."
He does not really say it to Coby but more so he can hear.

OOC
18:43, Yesterday: Slove rolled 26 using 1d20+9. Track.
18:40, Yesterday: Slove rolled 26 using 1d20+7. listen.
18:40, Yesterday: Slove rolled 17 using 1d20+7. spot.

Coby shakes his head sadly and climbs back on his horse.

"That was your last chance, elf.  This is a dangerous business we do, and I won't work with someone whose unprofessional attitude will get me killed.  You're a child.  An ignorant, selfish, petty cretin, unable to put his differences aside and work like an adult, and I won't wager my life on your companionship.  I don't think you're honorable or reliable, and I will have nothing more to do with you."

He glances at Jorn.  "Farewell, Jorn.  Good luck.  You're going to need it, with the companions you choose to keep."

He turns his horse and rides off.

[Private to DM BadCatMan:
Leery of a final parting attack from Slove (or anywhere else), just in case... otherwise, I'm afraid I'm leaving the adventure.  If anything/anyone attacks, he'll fight free and leave the others as soon as possible.]

Slove look over at Jorn and shugs his shoulders.
"What ever I did or said in his eyes was wrong.  As you know I don't care.  It up to you if you go after him or not.  What ever you do you know two thing.  One I a will carry on and try find this horn.  Two I will always have mug or three with you any time."

Slove goes back to searching the area for trakes and keeping his eye open as move towards the forest.

"I don't mean to complain," Authiel suddenly said to her companions, "but my bottom is beginning to get sore.  How long until we can rest for the night?"  As this was the first time the lass had mentioned anything about being uncomfortable, she truly wasn't being a bother.  But traveling like this for such a long period of time was rather new to her.  In reality she was hungry, thirsty, and tired, and would have loved to curl up and take a nice long nap in a comfortable and warm bed or pallet of soft leaves.

Gurgun shifts slowly in his saddle; obviously not used to riding. I thought you elves never tired? We should look for a camp site then.

You can pick the site, I'll help look. Gurgun adds with a sideways glance at Ioadem.

"As long as we have travelled just to get here, I'm hardly surprised that you are tired," Iodaem told Authiel, and offered her a smile, before looking about for suitable places to rest - easily defendable places, that was.  He'd never felt quite safe on the road, after all.


OOC:  For one, taking ranks in Spot and Listen pays off!  :D
10:54, Today: Iodaem rolled 23 using 1d20+5. Listen.
10:54, Today: Iodaem rolled 20 using 1d20+5. Spot.

"That is true, we do not get tired in the traditional sense, but that doesn't mean our bodies don't get sore or my minds do not become exhausted.  Elves need rest the same as everybody else, but the reverie we enter into instead of sleep restores our bodies and minds faster," Authiel explained sweetly, giving Gurgun a small smile before her gaze and smile strayed to Iodaem.  She was grateful they weren't upset at her for needing to spend some time off her horse.  As Iodaem looked for a suitable site, Authiel wondered aloud, "I wonder who those people are and where they are going."

They look like they're heading our way. Gurgun replies, eying the small group approaching from behind.
Two on horseback and one on foot; maybe they've hired a tracker?

As Coby turned his horse about and rode off, Jorn yanked his horse around and gave chase. But Coby was the better rider and moving at pace, and Jorn could not catch up. Finally he was forced to give up the pursuit and he returned to Slove, alone.

Now it was just the two of them, again, and feeling a little uncomfortable. Being stuck carrying out was ostensibly somebody else's quest was embarrassing and awkward. Doing that while being under-staffed was downright dangerous.

Then again, the people on the road ahead did seem to be going the same way.

[Private to Slove: The road below his feet was damp dirt and sticky mud, and the recent rains and the hooves of horses had churned it up. Still, the ranger knew what signs to look out for: on the edges of the road, where the water didn't form puddles and the horses didn't step, he found prints.

They were like the paw prints of a large dog or great cat, with large claws. But they appeared to be walking upright, as they only came in pairs, which corresponded to no beast he was familiar with.

Slove estimated maybe a half-dozen creatures came this way an hour or two before, and heading in the same direction.]

***

As Gurgun watched, one of the horse-riders suddenly turned about and rode away at speed. There seemed to have been some kind of argument.

They rode on for another half an hour, until the road took a curving path between two low hills that formed a shallow valley, each topped by a copse of leafy trees.


OOC: The two groups are now a 100 feet apart. Gurgun, Authiel and Iodaem and 40ft from entering the small valley.

As they approach the valley entrance, Gurgun looks cautiously ahead and strains his ears to catch any sound of danger. From what I have read about this place I'm lucky to ride with an elf. Don't think a lone hobgoblin would be recieved kindly.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:32, Sun 09 Mar 2008.

Slove stops moving and walks round careful looking at the ground.
He turns to Jorn.
[Private to Jorn Brightcaller: I have found some tracks.  They 2 legged but they are of some type of cat or dog.  I not sure.  Think maybe knoll like creature.  We going to have to be careful.  I think group ahead should be warned.]

Slove waves at the group ahead.  He seems to be calling them back.  In the other hand he had his bow ready.  He also seems to be looking around as if trying to spot something.

He shouts to group.
"I found some tracks of some intelligent beast like creature.  I would be careful as not sure what creature they are.  You could be walking into an ambush up head."

Gurgun reins in his horse the moment he hears the warning. Flipping one leg over the horses head he sits sideways an instant before tumbling backwards over the horses back and landing on his feet, quarterstaff in hand. (OOC: Tumble, take ten, beats DC20)

Take my horse and join the other two, I'll cover the retreat. I move faster on foot.

Pulling up on the reins, Authiel looked at Iodaem, making certain he was also doing the same.  She had no desire to walk head-long into danger and so was glad to heed the stranger's warning.

"There might be an ambush, all right, but how can we trust these strangers?  For all we know, they are bandits trying to lure us into a trap," Iodaem replied, not turning around yet, but slowing his horse down.  "Lady Authiel, do we ride on, or wait for them to catch up with us?" he asked, not certain which option to favor, but trusting in the elf's skill at battle to sense if they were walking into one now.  And just in case, he reached for the large, curved blade hanging off his back. . .

PL:
[Private to DM BadCatMan: Sense motive check: 18]

Suddenly alert and tense, they watched and waited, wary of an ambush.

[Private to Gurgun Nightwhisper: The warning seemed honest and genuine.

As he listened, he heard a sound come from the stand of trees on the right, like a short bark or a cough.]

[Private to Iodaem: As he listened, he heard a sound come from the stand of trees on the right, like a short bark or a cough. And on the left, gravelly voices snarling and snapping, like an argument was in process.

Looking closer, he saw glimpses of grey fur and hard steel lurking within the trees on both hills.]

[Private to Slove: Elven ears pricked, Slove listened to the sounds carried to him on the wind. He heard breeze whistle through the trees ahead, leaves crumpling underfoot, the whisper of voices and soft growls.]

Nervous and wary, Authiel murmured, "Retreat," as if she were indeed the boss.  But of course she was nothing of the kind, she was only worried for Iodaem and Gurgun's safety, though thankfully the hobgoblin was already moving to safety.  "Let us meet up with these strangers.  If they mean us harm, we shall find out soon enough," she went on, only suggesting now.

I think he's honest, and my guess is that gnolls will be attacking soon! Now take my horse and retreat.
Gurgun hands the reins to Authiel, and readies his sling all the while scanning the tree line for movement. As his companions retreat under the cover of the rangers(?) bow, Gurgun follows on foot sling in hand.

"Friendly or not, they look a whole lot friendlier than whatever it is I see hiding up there," Iodaem muttered - he'd never seen a gnoll before, but he'd heard of them, and though he didn't really fear doing battle with some of them, he was as always concerned for Authiel's wellbeing.  And so, he moved back, staying between her and the creatures up ahead.

Authiel took the reins of Gurgun's horse and looped them around the pommel of her saddle once so that her hands would be free, if necessary, to cast a spell as she began the retreat she had kind of ordered.

With the travelers alert and warned, there was no possibility of an ambush now. Eager to seize what little advantage they had left, the gnolls swarmed out of the woods, howling and barking and banging weapons on shields loud enough to startle the horses, who whinnied and shied away from the ferocious sight.

[Iodaem and Authiel: make a DC 20 Ride check as a move action to control your horses (2 for Authiel) or they'll run off. If you fail, it's a full-round action and you go with the horses. Or you can dismount and fetch the horses later.]


Locations:

Slove and Jorn are 100 feet from Gurgun, Authiel and Iodaem.

Gurgun, Authiel and Iodaem are 60 feet from the Gnolls. The 30 feet nearest to the Gnolls is a steep slope and carries some penalties: When moving uphill, you move at half-speed. Tumble checks have DC +2. (Downhill has it's own problems, but only matters to the Gnolls.)

There are two groups of Gnolls on either side of the road, 60 feet apart. If you attack them, let me know which one, as marked below.

Initiative:
19 - Gurgun
18 - Iodaem
17 - Authiel
11 - Slove
11 - Jorn
10 - Gnolls Right: E, F, G
 9 - Gnolls Left: A, B, C, D

Slove shout at gnolls in common.
"Call this an ambush.  A 80 year old female Kobold with glass eye andwooden leg could do better.  Lets see if you ugly fleet riden overcoats can stop me killing you."
He then shoots of two arrows and move of to one side and backwards.

OOC:
Attacking one of group of three.
08:12, Today: Slove rolled 21 using 1d20+10 (-2). attack with bow.
08:12, Today: Slove rolled 10 using 1d8+3. damage.
08:13, Today: Slove rolled 12 using 1d20+10 (-2). attack with bow.
Have ajusted for rapid shot.
Roles do not include range ajustment - I leave that up to you as no map.


Slove move is draw the gnolls to him and away from others.  As is his words.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:25, Sat 15 Mar 2008.

Gurgun moves a few steps up the hill to the left (10') while loading his sling.

Fools! He calls out in goblin as the bullet whizzes away.

09:32, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 6 using 1d4+3. Damage.
09:32, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 14 using 1d20+7. Sling attack.

OOC: Am I allowed to move back after firing, if so I step back 10'?

Slove put an arrow right through the throat of one gnoll. Bleeding profusely, it staggered around a little.

Gurgun's sling stone fared poorly, merely skipping up the slope aways, then tumbled back down.

OOC:
E - severely wounded

Just add the distances together to get the full range: 100 + 60 = 160 feet, which is half the reason why I didn't make a map (the other being I couldn't be bothered). I'm assuming you're all roughly in a straight line.

If you move then attack, you can't move again unless you have Spring Attack (for melee attacks) or Shot On The Run (for Ranged Attacks).

As Iodaem's horse was startled, there was nothing he could do to keep it from running - and he tried to get off first, wanting to stay behind and protect Authiel from the ambushers. . .  but, as his horse began to run away as Iodaem tried to climb off, he slid, and fell flat on his face onto the ground.


[Private to GM: So, I saw that you said that a failed check to dismount quickly just meant it would be done as a move action - does that count even if I rolled a natural 1?  :p
12:06, Today: Iodaem rolled 13 using 1d20+2. Ride?.

12:07, Today: Iodaem rolled 3 using 1d20+2. Ride to dismount quickly. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 22:33, Mon 17 Mar 2008.

Authiel slipped off her horse fairly easily, knowing she'd be unable to control both it and Gurgun's, and let them go, quickly weaving her favorite spell.  Within a moment, two darts of purple sparkly light burst forth from her hand and sped accurately towards a gnoll, striking it right in the chest.

[Private to GM: Attacking A, I suppose?  Doesn't really matter to me.
19:40, Today: Authiel Hannasiel rolled 22 using 1d20+2. Init. (Just in case it does come up later for some reason.)
19:37, Today: Authiel Hannasiel rolled 10 using 2d4+5. MM.]

Jorn trotted his pony closer, and readied his bow.

OOC: Move 30' closer on horse and prepare weapon.

Authiel's magical darts blasted into the gnoll's chest, knocking back and over, where he lay unconscious on the grass.

On the right hill, the gnoll wounded by Slove wiped away the blood and brought his own bow to bare and fired. But the shot was too long, and the arrow hit the turf far from the elf.

On the left, two more gnolls fired their bows, this time in arcing shots down onto the nearby travellers. One arrowed sprouted from the ground directly in front of Gurgun. Another appeared in front of Authiel.

The rest of the gnolls snarled and hurtled down the hills, axes swinging and jaws slathering.

It didn't go so well. All three tripped and stumbled on the slick wet grass. Two skidded to a halt a few feet later. The other fell flat with a startled yelp.

At this rate, it looked to be a disaster for the gnolls...

Locations:

Since this is long range and there's no map, I'm going to measure you all as if in a straight line, with the zero point being where Gurgun, Authiel and Iodaem were initially standing.

Gurgun - +10ft to left hill
Authiel -
Iodaem - prone
Slove - -150ft?
Jorn - -70ft

A - unconscious, +60ft up left hill
B - archer, +60ft up left hill
C - archer, +60ft up left hill
D - melee, prone and +55ft up left hill
E - badly wounded, archer, +60ft up right hill
F - melee, +55ft up left hill
G - melee, +55ft up left hill

Initiative:
19 - Gurgun
18 - Iodaem
17 - Authiel
11 - Slove
11 - Jorn
10 - Gnolls Right: E, F, G
 9 - Gnolls Left: A, B, C, D

Jorn picked a target from the group near Slove, but not one that was directly involved in melee, and let fly a shaft from his bow.

21:04, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 2 using 1d6. arrow damage if needed.
21:03, Today: Jorn Brightcaller rolled 14 using 1d20+6. Arrow attack.

Authiel selected an archer to go after, trying to keep any of them from firing at Iodaem, Gurgun, or her.  Or the others since they did indeed seem friendly.  Rpeating her favored spell, another twin bolts of purple shot unerringly towards one of the gnolls, striking it perfectly in the center of its chest.

[Private to GM: Going for B this time.
20:34, Today: Authiel Hannasiel rolled 12 using 2d4+5. MM.]

Steadying himself on the slope, Gurgun loaded and let go two bullets in rapid succession towards the remaining archer (B or C, whichever isn't hit by Authiel's missiles), before taking a few steps back (5' step).

20:40, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 5 using 1d4+3. Damage 1, if needed.
20:39, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 6 using 1d4+3. Damage #2.
20:39, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 19 using 1d20+5. Sling attack, flurry of blows 2.
20:38, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 14 using 1d20+5. Sling attack, flurry of blows 1.

Jorn's arrow sped over the gnoll's head, leaving a neatly carved furrow of fur. The gnoll yelped in surprise, immensely relieved that he hadn't been seriously injured. Only his pride. He'd never attract any bitches looking like that.

As before, Authiel blasted into unconsciousness another gnoll.

Gurgun tried to be clever with his sling, but only succeeded in dropping one bullet at his feet. But the first was surprisingly accurate, and sconed one startled gnoll.


OOC:
B is unconscious
c is moderately wounded

Gurgun: You can't flurry with a sling. It's not a 'special monk weapon', only one that you're proficient in. I took one of your attacks, as either would have hit on its own, and chose the max damage.

Slove move back close to to group.  It clear the gnolls can't follow him so his attempt to draw them away from the other group is pointless.  He again fires arrows at gnolls.  He fires at same group he did last time either finishing of the one he hit before or any other wounded one first

OOC:
Slove is moving toward the gnolls (50ft) but think that means he still -2 for range.
08:20, Yesterday: Slove rolled 17 using 1d20+8. attack with bow.
08:20, Yesterday: Slove rolled 7 using 1d8+3. damage.
08:24, Yesterday: Slove rolled 15 using 1d20+8. attack with bow.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:32, Wed 19 Mar 2008.

Getting to his feet, Iodaem moved in front of Authiel, drawing his blade as he did so.

Lighting fast, Slove dashed forward and launched two arrows. One piercing the gnoll he'd struck before and knocking it flat. The other struck one of the charging gnolls in the arm.

With three of their number down for the count, two badly wounded and their lightning charge fizzled out, the gnoll's morale broke. Some hurled their weapons to the ground in a gesture of surrender, and scrambled back up the hill to rescue their fallen. They barked and yelped frantically.

Round 3:

Locations:

Gurgun - +5ft to left hill
Authiel -
Iodaem - +5ft in front of Authiel
Slove - -100ft
Jorn - -70ft

A - unconscious, +60ft up left hill
B - unconscious, +60ft up left hill
C - unconscious +60ft up left hill
D - unarmed, unharmed, +60ft up left hill, helping B
E - unconscious, +60ft up right hill
F - melee, unharmed +80ft up left hill
G - unarmed, severely wounded +60ft up left hill, helping E

Initiative:
19 - Gurgun
18 - Iodaem
17 - Authiel
11 - Slove
11 - Jorn
10 - Gnolls Right: E, F, G
 9 - Gnolls Left: A, B, C, D
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:50, Mon 24 Mar 2008.

Just as she had done twice already, Authiel repeated the incantation for her spell and two more bolts of that lovely little purple energy sprang forward from her fingers and flew straight to yet another of the gnolls.

[Private to GM: C next, I suppose.
20:43, Today: Authiel Hannasiel rolled 11 using 2d4+5. MM. ]

Authiel blasted yet another gnoll into unconsciousness.


OOC: Gnoll C is downed. Three still standing.

Warmages. :(
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:14, Thu 20 Mar 2008.

Slove move closer again as clear the gnolls little of a problem and not going to jump on him.  He fires arrows at nearest wounded gnoll not in melee combat.


07:03, Today: Slove rolled 4 using 1d8+3. damage.
07:03, Today: Slove rolled 15 using 1d20+6. attack bow.
07:02, Today: Slove rolled 7 using 1d20+6. attack bow.

Gurgun lowers his sling at the sight of the retreating gnolls. They have surrendered, we should cease fire. He declares in a loud voice.
Moving back to the others he salutes the ranger and his companion.
We thank you, your warning came just in time.

Slove put an arrow in the leg of a already-wounded gnoll who was helping the fallen. It stumbled and yelped, and looked like it was planning to just make a run for it while it still could.

Jorn glanced back at Slove and held up a hand. "He's right.  We should let them go when they surrender."

Jorn turned to Gurgun and bowed as well as he could from the back of his pony, calling out, "We should thank you as well for your help in breaking their ambush. Either group of us alone would have been in danger.  Together we fared far better."

He waited to see if Slove would come up to join him, then trotted his pony toward the other group.

OOC: I'll stop there to see what Slove does, instead of assuming and jumping into introductions.

The gnolls, now that the harrying rain of arrows and spells had ceased, gathered up their injured and dying and stumbled off as fast they could from the fearsome adventurers. They soon trickled off into the wilderness.

As the duo approaches, the burly hobgoblin introduces himself:
I'm Gurgun Nightwhisper, a Child of the Passive Voice from the temple of Oghma in Deepingdale. I leave it to my companions to introduce themselves

Slove walks back to his dwarf friend.  He seem a little upset about letting the gnolls go.  When he gets to dwarf he speaks.
"They attack with no care for us.  They would killed us even if we surrendered.  If food or our items they wanted they butchered up what ever.  They will only do same again to some other travellers when there numbers are back up.  We should finish them off."
He then changes subject.
"I will leave you to do the talking as usual.  I not sad Coby has gone.  I leave it at that.  You talk to this group.  All I say is I must have word with Elven lady at some time if she talk to me."

"I really hope those things deserved getting slaughtered like that. . .  they never had a chance," Iodaem mumbled, and shook his head slowly.  Some years ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about killing potentially innocent beings, but now, he at least hoped his actions would be proven just.  Oh, well.

Turning towards the ones who approached from behind them, Iodaem made sure to place himself between them and Authiel, his curved blade still in his hands.  "I am Iodaem, of no land in particular, and this is Authiel Hannasiel.  I am her protector and guardian," he spoke,

Allessandra thanks Lathander that she was finally able to calm the horses as they came up on her on the trail. They were heading full tilt towards her and she was wasn't sure she was going to be able to stop them and settle their spirits.

She carefully leads them over the rise and comes across the remnants of the battle.

"I believe these are your horses?" she asks in her quiet singsong voice.

"I assume you are Authiel, Gurgun, and Iodaem, the temple informed me that I should be able to catch up with you in very little time. I was hoping to join you..."

She carefully hands the reins back to the group, insuring each person she hands reins to has a firm grasp on them and the horse can see both parties so as not to surprise the powerful beast.

You are correct. I am Gurgun Nightwhisper, thank you for calming the horses. I'm sure a servant of the Morninglord will be welcome on any journey such as this.

Gurgun takes a reins of his horse and gruffily pats the horse on the muzzle to reassure it.

Thank you, what happened here? Are any of you hurt? she asks quietly as she begins visually inspecting the group for wounds, moving around them looking for wounds that need tending.

They managed to shoot a few arrows at us. I was not hit and don't think anyone else was hurt.
Looking around the small group Gurgun suddenly remembers Authiel's request.
We should make camp. Perhaps not right here though.

The two adventuring parties began to move off, finding that they were heading in the same direction. That was convenient...

There was still an hour or two to go until sunset and the time to camp for night, so the party drifted onwards some more, silent and wary in case the gnolls returned for a rematch. The travellers could have kept going on to the Yuirwood's edge, which they would hit around sundown, but camping near that great green mass held its own dangers.

So whilst still out on the rolling fields, where they could see what was coming from a long way off, they picked a suitable high hill that rose above the damp, sheltered by a few lone trees. It would make a good campsite, and a defendable position. They would need to post watches should the gnolls come creeping back however...


OOC: Chat amongst yourselves and RP - ie, discuss your missions, realise that you're going the same way and join up.

Also decide on what you do about watches and other defenses.

Allessandra takes her bedroll from her horse and kneels down near the fire and removes several painful looking stones and uncomfortable sticks from the area and lays her bedroll out. Looking around and feeling satisfied this will be a warm spot, she stands back up, straightens her chainmail shirt slightly and says "well, I think that we should make some dinner and decide on watches."

After a short pause "Have you been friends a long time?"

As soon as they were at a place where they could rest, Authiel slipped off her horse with an audible moan.  She was sore and tired and couldn't wait for a warm meal and a night's rest.  Almost sinking to the ground, she didn't worry about her horse.  It had became Iodaem's way to take care of both their horses together, and it seemed to mean so much to him to do so that she no longer argued.  "Iodaem and I have been friends for a long time," she told the priestess.  "We met Gurgun not long ago, but have come to like and trust him," she added as she smiled wearily at both of the ones she had just named.

Taking care of his and Authiel's horses before letting himself rest, Iodaem walked over to the elven lady, wrapping an arm around her and holding her close to him.  He didn't feel like talking, but he was always a quiet man, rarely speaking unless he felt he absolutely had to.

Smiling softly at her dearest friend, Authiel laid her head tiredly against his shoulder as she cuddled closer to him.  The tiny elf was absolutely worn out.  If she had been a human girl she would have been asleep already, but Authiel was able to keep herself from slipping into reverie, wanting to eat first.

Gurgun appears unmoved by the elven ladies kind words, but a barely perceptible nod her way betrays him, after which the monk busies himself with the horse; releasing saddle and (whatever it's called in english that goes over the horses head).
He rejoins the group shortly. I have been sent by my order to investigate rumours of strange sightings in or near a stone circle in these woods. There is some lore attached to it, and we would like to know more. Ioadem and Authiel I met on the way as we listened to the same tales of horrors seen in this place. The ranger and the dwarf we saw behind us on the road. The ranger warned us of the ambush, and they helped us fight off the gnolls.
After the meal, Gurgun simply states. I can take any watch. The night holds no secrets to my kind.

He then gets up and goes through a series of complicated movements, almost like a dance. Some movements are slow and displays exquisite control of body and mind, while others are swift and powerful. Everything is done in complete silence, even the bounds, kicks, and strikes. You notice that despite the hobgoblins powerful frame he still moves with the ease and grace of a trained acrobat.
After his exercise the monk retreives a book bound in a rough leather cover. Something tells you he has done the binding himself.
Producing a quill and an ink bottle from the small desk he carries Gurgun starts scribbling done notes in the dark.

Slove really is indifferent to the other group.  He would like to have word with the elven lady but also he would clearly like to stay away from her as well.  He is in two minds to move on or to stay with the other group.  He was looking at his dwarven friend to decide what they going to do.
That all changes with Monks words.
Slove spins round and walks up to the Monk.
His hood drops back.  Slove looks hideous can be clearly seen.  It clear half of his face has been burnt by some very strong heat.  Some how it will not heal properly and elf face is a mess.  His voice is hard a rasping noise from the damage to his voice box from heat of what ever happened to him.
"The Ranger"Slove seems to like the title the Monk has given him.  Has a few question.  What do you know about this place and what is happening at it.  I like know how long these horrors have been going on at this place.  We have gotten ourselves involved with retrieving an item that may have been lost at stones.  He need to know more."
Slove also does something he never done before.  He puts his hand into top of his tunic and pulls out a leather necklace.  On it is a Sliver Arrow of fine elven craftsman.  It is clear this is an elven holy symbol and Slove for once in his life is make a clear claim to be a cleric.

Allesandra spends a few minutes listening to the others as she carefully brushes down her horse and removes the bit and bridle and takes off the saddle bags. She at last tethers her horse on a long line near the edge of the encampment where there is some grass. Nuzzles up to the gentle beast, feeds her a carrot as a treat and returns to the fire circle.

"As a servant of The Morninglord, I have been tasked with observing the events of The Yuirwood. It is speculated that this strange site we seek may be a source of great evil. The Dawnlord of Furthinghome has spent considerable time prying into the future of the Yuirwood and has seen powerful necromantic magics at work and undead roiling out of the wood and into the surrounding areas. I hope to bring back some clue as to what is behind this danger. All the church's attempts at scrying have been blocked by the powerful magics that permeate the Yuirwood.

I was told that these magics may be of ancient Elven descent, Authiel, perhaps you have some insight into them?"

[Private to Slove: At a private moment, Allessandra sits down next to Slove and quietly asks "I do not mean to pry, but does that horrible burn still cause you discomfort? Perhaps I can make a salve to unburden you from your discomfort."]

From her comfortable spot in Iodaem's arms, Authiel nodded thoughtfully and began to sort through her considerable knowledge in history and things arcane as she tried to find any information the priestess of Lathander might find useful.

EDIT: Sorry, I forgot to paste my die rolls.
23:51, Today: Authiel Hannasiel rolled 25 using 1d20+10. Know: History.
23:51, Today: Authiel Hannasiel rolled 30 using 1d20+10. Know: Arcana.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:53, Mon 07 Apr 2008.

Gurgun looks unphased by the terrible wounds still on display across Slove's face. I only know some that is written in our books at the monastery. I guess you all know as well as I do the stories surrounding the Yuirwood; the half-elves living here, some of the legends. What has peaked our interest is the recent stories of sightings and strange events from close to the stone circle. That is why I have come.

Gurgun looks at the pendant but does not seem to recognize its meaning. During the conversation he tries to note the extent and looks of the scar, to determine the type of damage that caused it. He does not appear succeed.

08:32, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 8 using 1d20+6. healing.
08:32, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 10 using 1d20+2. Know: religion

Allessandra kneels by the fire and removes from her bag a small pan, salted pork and vegetables. She carefully slices off enough to make a small meal for everyone. She looks at Authiel and arches her eyebrow for a moment, trying to decide if she is a vegetarian or not. After another second of consideration, she decides to cook the vegetables first in case some of the others are vegetarian as well. The potatoes go in first since they will take the longest and then are followed by the carrots and then the celery. After about 15 minutes of cooking, she lightly salts and peppers the vegetables and offers them to the others.

Next she warms the salted pork and puts the meat onto sliced bread, and offers plates to everyone.

"I think I would like to take the first watch if no one minds."

She eats mostly vegetables and a small amount of meat on the bread and wonders how long this exploration will really be, she hadn't had much time to pack a large amount of supplies.

"Does anyone know anything specific about this stone circle? It sounds rather ominous, maybe it has some sort of religious purpose, and if so, what deity?"

Allessandra scours her memory for religions that use stone circles in forests as well as what planar uses the stone circle might have in this case.

20:39, Today: Allessandra rolled 22 using 1d20+7. knowledge religion check on stone circle.
20:40, Today: Allessandra rolled 20 using 1d20+7. knowledge planes on stone circles.

The sun fell below the horizon, and twilight fell like a shroud over the land. It grew steadily darker, and colder, and the stars winked into sight one by one. The sky was clear, with scant cloud cover, so hopefully it would not rain overly much through the night.

It was strange, to anyone who looked up and was concerned with the science of astronomy, to see that the stars, once they'd appeared did not blink or waver in any way. Each one was like a tiny, unimaginably distant eye, staring unblinking onto the land below. And despite the cosmic gulfs, they seemed closer than before. The illusion was surely one of atmospherics on a clear night, for no other explanation made any rational sense.

As they set camp and watch, the new acquaintances discussed what they knew of the mission that lay ahead, and talked long into the night of ancient history and even older arcane secrets. A chill wind blew that prickled the skin and howled like the ghosts of the past

Authiel began the tale, for she'd read deeply of elven history in the archives of Silverymoon, though Allessandra proved that she knew a surprising amount as well, for she'd been briefed well before coming.

Over two thousand years, she said, the whole of land of Aglarond was covered by the great Yuirwood, and in its green leafy depths was the elven realm of Yuireshanyaar. It was a civilised realm, rich in the arcane arts, but was beset on sides by enemies. Trolls and drow raided the forest lands, internal disputes wracked the elven tribes, and eventually human settlers discovered the land and relentlessly colonised what was left.

In time, the elves grew weary of such setbacks, and their High Mages began a great undertaking. First they forged a network of portals across the forest, each set inside a massive stone circle, proving that dwarves weren't the only ones capable of good stonework. This portal network allowed for rapid transit and evacuation across the peninsula. Then they weaved an even greater spell.

They created a demiplane, an entirely separate world anchored to this one by the stone circles and the portals. It was to be their new home, Silveryuir, a refuge for the elves. Nearly even elf of Yuireshanyaar departed for the new world in a few short years, leaving a rare few stubborn souls who refused to leave.

Those who stayed behind joined with the humans and formed the half-elves of Aglarond.

But those elves who left became something else.

They became the Star Elves, reclusive, beautiful and, some say, alien. Rumours whisper of Sildeyuir, telling of a land of eldritch beauty, permanently blanketed by twilight and illuminated by a host of glittering stars, over a vast dark green forest. The star elves there live in magnificent citadels of glass, where they work magic of song and starlight. They keep many secrets, and very little else is known about them.

The ruins of the Yuirwood elves still remain, however, as well as their enchantments. The forest was impervious to all scrying and divination magic; whatever went under its branches simply can not be seen magically. The stone circles also lie there still, and sometimes their portals still work, though only reliably for the Masters Of The Yuirwood, an order of rangers and druids who protect the forest. The circles were said to contain great riches and magical power, though the risk of the portals and the wrath of the Masters deterred most adventurers.

Most assumed the circles to be dedicated to Corellon, but Allessandra realised that that couldn't be right, for they didn't fit the elven god's profile at all. She remembered that dim legends told that the Yuirwood elves worshipped different gods, strange and remote. Most were now lost and nameless, with only odd carvings and legends in the forest to show that they'd ever been there.

Hrmph! Sounds like those who stayed behind were wiser for it. Gurgun appears disturbed by the idea of creating a new world to ones liking.
We should perhaps seek out a member of the Master's to hear what they have seen or heard lately. They are likely not to let anything go unnoticed in these woods. The hobgoblin suggests, looking up from his notebook. He had been taking note while the ladies told the tales of the Yuirwood.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:43, Thu 10 Apr 2008.

Jorn glanced up at Slove while Gurgun talked, trying to gauge his friend's reactions. "If Slove agrees, I think talking to the Masters would be a good idea.  If nothing else, it would tell them that we respect their protection of the woods and aren't looking to do any harm here. How do we go about finding them?"

Slove listen to what said.  He takes it all in.  He then speaks.
"Well to start with me and Jorn were deep in the shaar less than a week a go.  I can also tell you I not seen the sea or past thought Thay.  To put it bluntly we not here because we wish to be."
Hw wait for them to take what he said in.
"With little else to do we decide to join few other adventures and gain some work.  The group never got on.  We where ask to find a horn that a merchant had lost in forest.  However he talked to some other adventures who turned out to be evil Dragon Cultists.  We crossed sword with them and really did not work out very well all round.
The merchant however did ask for our help and he told us he lost the item at one of the stones in forest.  What is really bad is what items is."
He then explains.
"The merchant told us "Some days ago I was approached by a man from Sembia, he wanted me to transport a small item of treasure from here to Glarondar: a drinking horn carved from the horn of a black dragon, bound in platinum and studded with jewels. A tacky thing, but he said a collector there would pay handsomely for it."  It is clear the item is a powerful evil which I think with power of stones has resulted in problems you told us about.”
He is then silent.
“I will take last watch as love to see the sun rise.”
He puts his hood up so other can’t see he face again.  He find place to settle a little away from other.  Just before going to sleep he walks up to Allessandra and leads her away so they can talk.  He lowers his hood a second time while talking to her.

[Private to Allessandra: Slove does not answer you straight away but waits.  Once everybody is settled he lead you to place where he can sit and you can look at him more clearly.  He then explains.  The wounds is an old one.  One that he got in his youth.  his brother was playing with arcane artefact.  Once he had found.  While trying to work it out it went off.  The fire was so intense it burn deep into sloves face and he blacked out.  For weeks they struggle to keep him alive.  As you can see they succeed but the damage to sloves face they could not fully heal.
Slove lets you look at it and touch it.  If can do something slove tells you he would be most grateful but he does not think you can.  You also now realise that slove not a common moon or sun elf but he is stronger than most elves.
It quite clear that her kindness to Slove and his face mean a lot to him.  Few female would come near him and under everything she can tell he very lonely as most of own kind would find anything in slove to love.

He does have some other wounds that come from the combat with cultist.  If you have healing spells he could do with healing to get him up to full hit points.

PLAYER INFO: Slove is a wood elf.  Using the old 3.0 woodelf (STR +2 DEX +2 INT -2 CON -2 CHA -2.  I didn't put anything into CHA so his charisma is 6.  Instead of just saying he ugly I wanted make him more interesting.  So I created the story of magic item exploding which make his face ugly and bad voice.  It has proved to be great roleplay creation and make slove what he is.  So unless your character can improve my character charisma there is little she can do.   However please use this information to carry on the story and whole roleplay of slove and his nature.  We can wave a good friendship between the characters if your like. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:49, Thu 10 Apr 2008.

Allessandra takes in the statements made, her brow furrows a little as she pieces together the information. She develops a worried look after hearing Slove talk about an evil artifact that may have been lost in a demi-plane that is not expecting to encounter something so evil. She wonders what and who would use something so putrid and what their goal is in the purported home of the star elves.

"I think Gurgun is right in that we should make contact with the Masters, we are trespassing in their land after all. However, I think we should make all due haste in finding one of these stone circles and then locating this horn. If it is indeed the cause of all the undead activity in the area, removing it should cause it to wane as its presence caused it to wax."



Allessandra follows Slove and looks over her shoulder to insure their privacy when she catches up to him.

[Private to Slove: Allessandra listens to Slove's tale and respectfully examines the scar that he bears. "I'm so sorry this happened, was your brother hurt?" she asks. Allessandra makes a heal check to see if she can determine what salves might bring some relief.
20:16, Today: Secret Roll: Allessandra rolled 14 using 1d20+9. heal check on slove's burn.
and then she checks to see how hurt Slove is
20:17, Today: Secret Roll: Allessandra rolled 17 using 1d20+9. determine slove's current hp status.

Allessandra prepares for the worst and considers casting a CMW.
OOC: In retrospect, she should have taken a ten on your scar, there will be time later...
]

Gurgun nods at was is being said, still jotting down a few notes. As the immediate plans seems to have been settled he prepares for the night.
Shall I take the watch after yours? He asks Ioadem, thereby also suggesting his companion taking watch after Allessandra.

After telling her side of the tale, Authiel ate her share of the food slowly, even some of the pork.  She believed that everything was a cycle and that everything in that cycle helped each other.  The animal she ate to nourish her body served its purpose just as she served her own.

Almost before she had finished her portion, the young elf leaned against Iodaem again and closed her eyes, thinking that she could begin her rest as early as possible to be able to greet the morrow earlier, refreshed and ready to begin the day.

Jorn said, "Since we're talking about watches, I can join Slove on the last watch."

"I'd forgotten, but Tulin, the merchant who hired us, had said the Masters would find us at the edge of the woods.  Once we get some rest, maybe we should go and try to find them."

Slove adds in his own thoughts.
"I would say best for the first day just to follow the edge of the forest and travel at easy rate.  That way the eyes and ears of the forest will see us.  It will get back to masters and they can come to us the day after.  It will also give use time to get use to each other."

It is at this point you notice that Slove does not have a horse with him.  He does not seem to be that worried about it.

[Private to Allessandra:  Slove is surprise at her kindness.  As for Salvan.  I think me must be doing a great job of setting other creature on fire that enter my old home.  The only good thing that come from it was his great skill in arcane art developed quickly.  However we have spocken little since that day.  He could not stand to look at me.  It remined hims of what he had done.
From this it clear Slove brother was unhart.

The wound does not give him any real pain.  It settled with age.  Slove is down by about 12 hp from weapon and minor arcane magic from his last battle.


]

Iodaem had been about to offer to take the first watch along with Authiel, when she began to rest in his arms.  Realizing that she'd need a whole night to recover the magic she had spent in their last battle, he cuddled her close to him.  "I will take first watch alone, then wake Gurgun for second," he whispered, and slowly stood up, keeping Authiel in his arms, lifting her up and carrying the lady over to where he'd left his backpack.  Without a word, he got out his bedroll from it, and found a blanket in her pack, whispering for her to lay down, and that he'd join her after his watch was over.

Authiel could barely stand on her own she was so tired, so she was grateful to sink down into Iodaem's bedroll.  She had slipped into reverie even before she fully laid down.  All of that travel, plus the expenditure of her magic, had completely worn her out.

Allessandra finishes cleaning the dishes and burying any scrapings from dinner in a hole so as not to attract animals. She wraps her slender body in a blanket to ward off the cold.

Before starting her watch with Authiel and Iodaem, she stops at Slove's side and weaves her hands and fingers as if they were threads in an intricate pattern over Slove and whispers soothing words in an angelic voice. Slove's wounds glow a deep blue from within and you can see his wounds begin to mend themselves rapidly.

[Private to Slove: 21:36, Today: Allessandra rolled 12 using 2d8+3 with rolls of 8,1. CMW on Slove. ]

With that, she whispers "I must help take first watch now, sleep easy my friend."

She takes her post on watch for the first part of the night, wrapped in her wool blanket and clutching her long spear at her side; listening carefully for the gnolls that the party fought off earlier as she arrived.

The night grew older, and it was cold, and dark, and silent, bar the gentle whispering of wind and the distant creak of forest. Allessandra stayed at her post for as long as she could, until finally her eyes began to droop and sleep began to encroach. But the priestess was dutiful, and stayed awake until her time was up.

She gently woke Iodaem, then went to bed herself. Iodaem then kept watch, faithfully guarding his charge Authiel.

Still the night wore on, and still the gnolls would not come. Hopefully, they'd been discouraged by their disaster at the ambush, and would leave them alone.

Above, the dark skies grew darker as clouds began to roil and gather. A distant rumble hinted at a coming storm, but for now the weather remained peaceful.

Finally Iodaem roused Gurgun, and joined Authiel in sleep. The monk kept his vigil in the deep of night. 'Nightwhisper' had been a suitable name after all. Night-sighted and keen-eyed meant that he'd made a good watcher at the temple.

So what came next was a bit embarrassing. Perhaps it was the ever-growling weather?

"Hsst! Hobr-gobrin!" The growling voice, lowered to a stage-whisper, drifted across the field to him. Immediately alerted, Gurgun looked out to see a gnoll rise above a bush. It was dressed in blackened chain, and had a net flung over one shoulder. In one hand he held a stubby sword, which he waved over his head at the monk in greeting. "We talk, alone, yes?" He spoke in Common, a difficult task with no lips. There appeared to only be one, but Gurgun had no doubts there were others lurking out in the darkness.

Gurgun is immediately alert, scanning the surroundings for hidden enemies, and tries to catch the sound of approching paws over the rustle of the wind and the distant rolling thunder. He also looks hard at the gnoll, trying to catch a fleeting glance or other telltale signs of doublespeak.

16:21, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 6 using 1d20+4. Listen.
16:21, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 23 using 1d20+7. Spot.
16:20, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 14 using 1d20+7. Sense motive.

Concentrating now, Gurgun's eyes and ears soon made out other signs. The clink and clank of metal armour, the glint of moonlight off plate, showed one gnoll crouching beside the one who spoke to Gurgun. He also spotted a few tell-tale glimpses of grey and brown fur here and there.

"Hobr-gobrin! You helpred us, we helpr you, yes?" the gnoll added. Gurgun wasn't familiar with gnolls, but he guessed they had no deceit planned.

Gurgun takes a few steps towards the gnoll, keeping his vigilance, and making sure he's less than 40' from his companions (how far from the camp are they?).
How can you help? And how can I trust you? he asks in goblin, wondering if that might be easier for them to understand and speak.

The first gnoll seemed confused when Gurgun responded; he didn't speak goblin. But the one beside him did, and stood up to reply in a croaking, growling voice "You told others stop killing of gnolls. Hobgoblin not like humans and elves and dwarves? Now we come back, finish what we start. We help you kill them, you be free, we share in riches?" This gnoll was gaunt, with yellow mangy fur and eyes that glowed red in the darkness. It was covered in sharped jagged metal armour, and had a wicked looking flail.

Gurgun let's out a dry, joyless laughter.

I am free! Or did you think these weaklings kept me prisoner? Now run away before I awake my companions and we feed you to the crows.

Gurgun arms his sling, ready to launch a bullet at the nearest gnoll.

The gnoll scowled, annoyed. He wasn't about to run away with his tail between his legs. He yapped a command and arrows flitted out of the darkness as gnolls erupted behind bushes. Gurgun shifted subtly, and the shafts whizzed passed him without a scratch.

Growling and snarling, the lead gnoll gestured his flail with its three jagged heads at the group, and dark forces descended.

The sleepers felt insidious nightmares creep into their brains, vague dreams of violence and bloodshed, wherein they were the victims. Gurgun felt it too, but knew it for the curse it was. [Everybody: DC 14 Will save or take -1 on attacks and saves vs fear.]

Beside him the other gnoll was already dashing forwards, whirling the great weighted net above his head. He stopped and flung the snare high in the air over the group. Except it failed to open, and hit with the ground still neatly folded. "Grap."

Round 1:

There are 5 gnolls, arranged in a circle around the camp. Gnoll 1 (he flung the net) is 10 feet away. Gnoll 2 (the shaman) and Gnolls 3 - 5 (archers) are 50 feet away.

Currently only Gurgun can act. The others will wake up next round (prone) provide that Gurgun does something to wake them (make a loud noise say).

Initiative:

22 - Gnoll Shaman
19 - Allessandra
19 - Jorn
12 - Slove
11 - Gurgun
11 - Gnoll Ranger
 7 - Authiel
 7 - Iodaem
 5 - Gnolls
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:40, Wed 16 Apr 2008.

We're under attack! Gurgun roars as he lets the bullet fly straight at the gnoll shaman while moving towards the closest gnoll. Feeling slightly weakened in his resolve by the curse, he still manages to damage the spellcaster.

OOC:10:04, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 4 using 1d4+3. Damage.
10:04, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 16 using 1d20+6. Sling attack Shaman.
10:04, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 11 using 1d20+8. Will save DC14.
End position within melee range of gnoll 1.

OOC:  11:22, Today: Iodaem rolled 9 using 1d20+3. Will Save.  I'd get a +3 vs. Spells/Spell-Like Abilities, but that wouldn't be enough, anyway, here.

Gurgun's sling-stone ricocheted off the gnoll shaman's armour, and flew off into the night.

As the sleepers began to stir from their troubled slumber, the other gnolls flung down their bows and drew up their jagged battle-axes. Barking like crazy, they charged in to the camp, bloodthirsty for vengeance.

One rushed up beside Gurgun, chopping down brutally and cleaving a wedge of skin off the hobgoblin's arm. He could hear and smell thing snarling beside him. [6 damage to Gurgun]

Another descended on Jorn. The dwarf woke to see an axe flashing towards his face, and only narrowly rolled aside in time to avoid losing his head. As it was, he took a vicious strike to the back. [12 damage to Jorn]

The other leapt upon Allessandra; drool splashed down upon the priestess. The jagged axe swiped across her leg. [6 damage to Alessandra]

The gnoll shaman cast his hands to the skies, and barked a prayer to his demon-god Yeenoghu.

Round 2:

Gnoll 1 and Gnoll 3 are in melee with Gurgun. Gnoll 4 is in melee with Jorn. Gnoll 5 is in melee with Allessandra.

Initiative:

22 - Gnoll Shaman
19 - Allessandra
19 - Jorn
12 - Slove
11 - Gurgun
11 - Gnoll Ranger
 7 - Authiel
 7 - Iodaem
 5 - Gnolls
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:54, Wed 16 Apr 2008.

So this is how you thank me for saving your worthless lives! Gurgun snarls in Common as he feels the axe sink into his arm. Bringing the quarterstaff about he pushes one end into the abdomen of the new arrival (Fort save DC16 or be stunned 1 round). Moving with blinding speed he then changes direction and gives the net-throwing gnoll the same treatment.

12:26, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 4 using 1d6+3. Damage #2.
12:26, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 16 using 1d20+4. Flurry of blows/stunning fist QS 2.
12:25, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 9 using 1d6+3. Damage.
12:25, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 18 using 1d20+4. Flurry of blows/stunning fist QS 1.

As soon as Iodaem heard Gurgun's cry, he got to his feet, thankful that his armor was light enough for him to sleep in.  As he stood, he gripped his double-handed blade, and looked around the scene of the battle - there seemed to be at least one spellcaster against them.  Just his luck. . .  thankfully, he knew how to do something about that.  In a dark language, he muttered a curse, invoking the evil goddess Beshaba, invoking her malice upon the Shaman as Iodaem cursed him.

[Private to DM BadCatMan:  I'm posting from a public computer at a library, so I can't look up the effects of my Hexblade's Curse, but that's what I'm using - save DC is 16, unless my Hexbands (again, public computer, can't look them up, and don't remember off-hand) boost it. ]

The newly arrived gnoll took the full force of Gurgun's staff to his belly. Winded and sickened, he stood dazedly in place. But the net-thrower was better off, for the staff impacted on his rusty chain shirt and the leather and fur beneath, and he was barely injured. [Private to Gurgun Nightwhisper: Stunning Fist attacks can only be done 1 per round. But that's okay, your attack on the net-thrower missed anyway.]

The shaman glared evilly at Iodaem. Nothing seemed to have happened.

"Thanks for nothing, Beshaba..." Iodaem mumbled below his breath, glaring at the caster.