In reply to DM Jono (msg # 1):

                               Whisper of the Wild


“Some men go their whole lives not living. Sure they breathe, they love, they work, but few really know what it is to be alive; to really feel the air in their lungs, to hear the whistle of a savage’s arrow pass by your ear, to look upon the mountains and really know who you are.. That’s why we come here. It’s not just the furs, the flesh, the gold, that calls men like us to this place. It’s the wild itself. We are here to heed it’s whisper.”



It’s mid day, but the sun does not greet you. The air is fresh from recently departed rain as you crane your heads towards the sky, taking a deep breath. Your muscles ache with exhaustion, and your lungs burn from the cold air. Cool sweat trickles down your necks as you take in your surroundings. A series of pine trees silently surround and watch over your group. Far in the distance, the jagged peaks of the Razorbacks pierce the sky in stalwart defiance. Your nostrils swell with the iron stench of blood and freshly fallen rain. These are the great wilds. The lands beyond the Heart.

It is your eighth day on trail with the North Star Trading Company. Twenty of you departed from Fort HighFlame. Nine laborers their leader Captain Donahue, four warriors, a cartographer by the name of Pim, and yourselves made up the ragged band as you set out up river. Some of you are here as mercenaries, brought on by the company for extra muscle. While others are among the expedition for different reasons.  Why you came here originally is now hardly important. The images are fresh in your mind.

The river took the party only so far and on day five, you continued on foot. On the seventh day, the party met up with members of the Chonake Elf Tribe, their prize, six orc captives and a variety of precious furs. After the exchange, the group began their long journey back. Sadly, a great storm brought a great mudslide down on the trail. The party agrgued for sometime in the rain as to where to go, before Pim deemed south to be an easier route around the new hazard. But as providence sometimes dictates, one trial is traded for another. This alternate path lead straight into the nest of a render.



Little did the team know that such a beast lurked in that small grove. The render came, sounding its arrival with cries of violence and shattering branches, dragging the orc chain gang to their doom. The men panicked, firing wildly at the Render. Some were slain outright by the great beast, becoming little more than flesh and viscera among the leaves. Others fled into the Dark of the forest, guided only by their fear. A few of you fled together, running as fast as you could from the razor-sharp claws and teeth.

But the trials of your group had only just begun. The lands you had run into were not your own. Not long after losing the Render, a new foe reared its head. As if they had been expecting you, a second group of elves, not of the Chonake, loosed their arrows upon your terrified party. Shafts of wood and chipped obsidian cut rain and flesh alike.

But this was not your place to die. Not all of you at least. Ear shattering Flashes of Iron and fire returned the soft calls of elvish bowstrings.

Through the smoke and blood, victory was achieved, but at great cost. The elves fled back nto the brush. All but one of the trappers, Wayne, have been either lost or killed. Two guards, twins by the names of Gale and Bale are all that remain of the other warriors, and Captain Donahue has been horribly wounded by a poison arrow. Somehow Pim the Cartographer has managed to survive. Your party is exhausted. And your supplies are only what you have on your back. Maybe a days’ worth of food and water for you all. Not wishing to linger, the survivors keep running, pushing themselves as far from the ambush site as they can. Eventually the rain ceases its beatdown and you stop in a nearby rockslide to take a breath.

Gale approaches Pim, limping from an arrow wound in his side. He glares down beneath his red eye brows at the thinly built man shivering on the ground before thrusting his leathery hand to the man’s throat. “YOU… FUCKING WHELP!” he cries, “I SAID NORTH. NORTH! You had to push us SOUTH!”

“Gale!” Wayne’s straggling voice breaks the air. “He’s just a lad, it’s our fault as much as his. We trusted his judgement. There’s no takin’ that back now. Yer hurt, the Captain’s dyin’, and we gotta git moving.”
Bale looks up from tending the captain, and stares coldly at his brother. The two red-heads make eye contact for a brief moment sharing a brother's silence. The warrior breathes out, and drops the map maker back to the wet earth. “If we make it back, I never want to see your pathetic face again.”

He turns, leaving the cartographer shuddering once more in the cool air. Gale sits down at a nearby tree stump, loading his rifle, cursing beneath his breath. He refuses to make eye contact with anyone in the group. Instead he addresses all of you, seemingly speaking to the earth as the winds whisper among the foliage.
“Get your shit and load up. The river’s two days west, and we sure as hell didn’t kill all those dagger-eared bastards.  I’m not going to die here.”


                                       What do you do?
This message was last edited by the player at 08:56, Wed 04 Jan 2017.

Rhana Arkngthamz sat down against a boulder and removed her iron helmet. She looked at the back and found, exactly as she expected, a bright white scar across the dingy gray metal. She knew it'd be there because she felt the damn elven arrow that made it, deflecting off the side of the helm and leaving a bump on her head to match, though that was hidden beneath all the fiery orange hair. Brode, one of the trappers, had laughed her for wearing breastplate, greaves, and helm into the Wilds, saying she'd be exhausted after a mere day's hike. Well, Brode was now lying back in the woods with an arrow in his head, and she was still here, breathing – So who's laughing now, Brode?

"Worst job I ever took," she exclaimed.


She picked up one of her dwarven waraxes and let the hefty blade drop on a nearby branch, snapping it in twain and watching the two halves fly in opposite directions. Although it was not uncommon to see a dwarf wielding a waraxe, it was uncommon to see a dwarf wielding two at the same time.

She glanced up at the gloomy sky, wondering if things could get much worse. Here she was sitting in the Wilds, her greaves splattered with mud, tired, and probably not going to get paid, since everything they'd come this way to trade for had either been eaten (the Slaves) or left behind (the Furs). The thought of not getting paid burned her the most, since she certainly didn't take this job for companionship or fun. She shoved her helmet back on and stood.

"Two days to the river, maybe three to the Heart since it's downstream, and plenty of ways to die along the way," said Rhana, holding both her axes at the ready. "Let's get started."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:29, Tue 17 Jan 2017.

A dissatisfied mumble crept above other conversations and arguments. A slow, ever growing mumble that evolved into a full on self conversation

"Fuckin' savages... Come back here with a barrel of oil and a flint and then we'll see who's who..."

A man stands in a gap of the bodies either lying down wounded or frantically scrambling for some sort of security. Seemingly unphased by the recent attack, he stands tending to his sword. Carefully cleaning and rubbing out any imperfections in the large mass of iron, he tries his best to maintain its pristine figure. The greatsword itself seemed usual, that much could be apparent to anyone. Its shape was far from the regular sleek long blade in favor of a more square blade, complete with squared off tip. Along its middle, strange runes could be seen inscribed within the dark metal, though it was not hard to miss. They seemed to be inlaid with a deep blue - or perhaps they were glowing dimly?...

His clothes, although worn over the past days of the expedition seemed remarkably clean. The black leather and cloth overshirt covered a chain shirt underneath, and boots that bearly seemed to show mud...Except for the spots of blood that were missed by his no doubt self inspection. Long black hair drooped down like the branches of a willow tree as he exhaled and rubbed his hot breath of the blade, finally satisfied with his work. Although most of him was dark and slightly intimidating, something he wore stole attention: A long, thick red cloth scarf.

"I have come across many an elf in my day," he said, as if teaching a lesson nobody felt like attending, "But these... filthy... nasty... savage beings are a testament to the worthlessness of them all!"

He looked down at his coat, more of a cloak really, it had been resewn to resemble more of a peacoat to protect his oh-so-pretty clothing. He scowled as he noticed the dirt and tears from ground, branches, arrows and blood of his new found foes


"Someone said they were leaving? Lets go, Im sick of this place and its no GOOD INHABITANTS!" voice, that began as a calm talk quickly devolved into an aggravated yell into the distance.

"Just when you think you know what you're up against...did you see h-how it just tore...*Gag*"

It's bad enough Lephnr had to be so far from the city, but now it was obvious that the Wilds were as unforgiving as the stories say. Giant Monstrosities; check. Elvish barbarians; double check, and at the same time too! He couldn't help feeling out of place with the mud and rain threatening to invade his socks, but under the rapid heart beat from their hasty retreat brewed an excitement to finally be on his own mission without some sort of lead over him.
Then there was Gale ripping the mapmaker a new one; Lephnr cringed and winced, although Gale was right to be upset. He figured he better try to be useful..

"Hey Bale, how's the Capetian? You need some herbs for that poision?"

Coming in at the rear of the group, Mort slowly joined the others. A part of his cloak covered his face. All any one could see was the red glow from his eyes, well where his eyes would be. He stuck his greatsword into the ground with a loud thump at the massive weight of it. The sword was close to the same height as Mort at a staggering 7 feet tall. Even with the heavy sword, armor, and layers of clothing he wasn't even out of breath. Although he was slower than everyone else, he seemed to be able to run forever.

Mort began cleaning and sharpening his sword. "Yes, let's get going. This is already taking much longer than I was expecting. I've got money on the line and I'm not one to be late on a job."

I sigh, speaking to the group, "Well boys, just like my Commanding Officer used to say, 'welcome to the suck' heh, he was not kidding.  Too bad about everyone else, but glad to be standing myself.  What else can you do but laugh about it?  Well, no matter, we still have what is on our backs and what is in our packs, and no poorer, sort of, but a whole lot wiser.  Always worth looking on the bright side, eh lads?  Too much grief to think about all the disappointments.  I am sure that in the end it will all work out, eh?"

Before you, you see a blond haired man, of a lean but sturdy frame.  You would say he is generally an attractive man.  Wearing a cloak over the sweat soaked, now drying, clothing and armor from the fight.

"Sure as can be, glad we made it out of there alive... real sad about the others though.  We ought to have a moment of silence for them before we go though, I mean for our fellow expeditioners."  No waiting for the others I kneel, praying to myself regarding the events which just occurred.

"I guess it is high time we got a move on, hmmm.  I suppose I better pack my stuff for traveling."  With this statement I walk over to my items and begin packing my pack better with all the loot.

"What a place this is, after all this, I am still impressed by it...  untamed and wild, yet beautiful.  What a deadly beauty it is... like so many other beauties in this world."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:38, Wed 18 Jan 2017.

In reply to DM Jono (msg # 2):
https://www.facebook.com/photo...p;type=3&theater
As the party rests and readies themselves for their arduous, wet, cold hike westwards, the post storm silence is broken by the whistles of willow wood and goosfeather arrows hissing through the air.
“Cover!!” Game screams. Several arrows fly from nearly all directions, skittering off the rocks and boulders around the party. Within seconds, each of you take a cover, tightenin up your formation. Pim hugs a rock, making himself small as can be, the survivor tending the captain stays put. You poke,your heads briefly into the surrounding area spotting Several of elves of the Blue Painted tribe howling to their gods.


Key:
Gray=Mott
Green=Gabriel
Orange=lephner
Blue=Kessinger
Purple=rhana
Red=hostiles
Yellow=captain\survivor
L.green=bale
L.blue=gale
Pink=Pim
This message was last edited by the player at 20:26, Fri 21 July 2017.

"Dammit! They are everywhere! Looks like we may need some cover Gabriel. I've got just the ticket..." Lephnr says as he riffles through his alchemical bag, producing a smokesticks and activates it just before throwing it ahead of himself and Gabriel. Lephnr then moves quickly to the tree beside them and goes to prepare his rope for his ascension into the trees branches.

Rhana glanced darkly around them, at the arrows striking against the rocks, at the beady little elf eyes peeking through the trees. . . "If one more arrow hits my armor and makes one more god damn mark, I swear I'm gonna craft a new leather armor made of god damn elf skin!"

Clutching her two giant axes, she hustled through the boulders down to where Mort was standing.

"You and me, Mort. Let's go left and start chopping legs off!"

{Rhana double moves to P13}
This message was last updated by the player at 20:59, Sat 22 July 2017.

"Aye!" Mort shouted in agreement with Rhana, "Let's chop some legs and set some heads rolling! I'm getting really tired of these woods."

The large fighter gripped his sword in both hands and started to move into position while he held up for Rhana.

{Mort moves to R10}

"Well, looks like this beauty still has teeth, time to knock them out!"

"You elves may think your gods are stronger, but tell me what you think after you taste cold steel in your teeth! haha!"

"Get ready all!  Time to fight again, the will of the gods is battle eh?  Well we are ready for it!  Draw thy steel and draw thy axe, bend thy bow and knock thy arrow, look to heaven lads for the arrows come, steel from above to rend thy heart.  But upon thy breast dost a greater steel lie, the strength of heart that none can deny.  Help us O'mighty one!  Bless these your warrior soldiers, let us burn those who oppose your people once again!  IN HIS NAME!  LET THE BATTLE COMMENCE!"  I say with a furious smile, staring the enemy down with a sort of laughter before taking cover as the smoke from Lephnir's sticks begin to rise.  "Take cover and let em come to you boys!  We get em in close quarters and rend them limb from limb!  Say your blessings now men, prepare your hearts for battle!" {USE YOUR BUFFS!} {I CAST BLESS!}

"Hey Bim! Better move back to us for formation!"

"Now men, do not all move south and leave the wounded captain exposed now! We should move to better cover men though, and south does look better.  Anything our wizard have stored in his bag for us?  Hopefully something real nasty for our enemies?  Wait a moment, I know just what to do, hehe..."

...next round
I plan to cast cure light wounds on the captain, bringing another fighter to the fight!
"HAHA! LOOK AT THAT! ANOTHER FIGHTER RISES TO CONTINUE THE FIGHT! HAHA!"
...

ACTIONS:
I move to K14 to aid the captain next round
and take full cover while drawing my heavy steel shield.
I cast bless for us all.

As the party scrambles for cover, the Blue painted folk closed in loosing battle cries and arrows into the mass. Three elves closed in from the north, right at Bale the rifleman. Two fired arrows as one charged, jagged blade drawn. But bale was ready, and fired his rifle at the melee attacker. The shot was not clean, however, and the savage continued his fight, albeit wounded. As if the gods blessed the old trapper, all three attacks failed to harm him. both arrows skittered off the stones as Bale blocked his attackers blade with the stock of his rifle.
Bale fires
22:01, Today: DM Jono rolled 16 using 1d20+6 ((10))(hit)
Damage(
22:03, Today: DM Jono rolled 6 using 2d6 ((5,1)).
Elf 1 Attacks Bale(arrow)
21:57, Today: DM Jono rolled 12 using 1d20+3 ((9)).(misses)
Elf 8 attacks Bale(
22:05, Today: DM Jono rolled 4 using 1d20+3 ((1))
(Critical fail, arrow slips and cuts for 1 damage.)
Melee attacker22:07, Today: DM Jono rolled 4 using 1d20+2 ((2)).
One of the ravagers(Elf 7) loosed an arrow at the halfling climbing the tree, but missed horribly.
22:30, Today: DM Jono rolled 9 using 1d20+3 ((6)).
He then closed in, albeit with caution at the little man's strange action.
Down  lower, the elves closed in. One of attackers loosed an arrow at the she-dwarf before stepping forward, egging her on. As he did so, another archer flanked from the west joining in(elf 5 and elf 9)
22:32, Today: DM Jono rolled 19 using 1d20+3 ((16)).
22:37, Today: DM Jono rolled 16 using 1d20+3 ((13)).
Damage
16:52, Today: DM Jono rolled 1 using 1d8 ((1)).
the first arrow simply nicked her, leaving a quick cut that was immediately shaken off.
As the second arrow came in, the she dwarf nimbly stepped out of its path.
As the other elves positioned themselves, a single shot was fired at mort, but deftly bounced off his armor.

17:01, Today: DM Jono rolled 10 using 1d20+3 ((7)).


This message was last edited by the player at 00:24, Thu 03 Aug 2017.