In reply to Kullonar (msg # 62):



Bruno is not sure that Kullonar actually understood his earlier sarcasm, but the fellow's sincerity is welcome. Or maybe it is more that it is surprising. After all, none of the orcs he had ever come across seemed to be this smart, let alone smiley.

"Oh, aye! Between us we shall make sure everyone stays on the straight and narrow."

No one had seen him leave.

Weasel comes running back in, carrying what looks like everything he owns:  a light sword, a backpack that is pathetically empty, and is arm half through the arm opening in a moldy shirt of quilted armor made of heavy canvas.  He skids to a stop as eyes turn to him.

Despite his load, he made a passable bow.

"Ah, Milords and Miladies....  Cook says it's time to leave.  There's a wer-rat problem and it's 'bout to get worse. A. Lot. Worse.

"An' Sir Dwarf, I will take you up on that proposal!  Can't be stayin' here no more!"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:48, Sat 24 Sept 2016.

Uthecar smiles proudly to the boy congratulating him on his decision, before he turns to Bruno.  "I've never fought one inflicted with the moon disease, but I believe one will soon become many, if it is not stopped.  Does anyone have any knowledge about fighting them?  Should we be dealing to them before we leave for this mystery place?  The cook did do his part in the fight by warning us 'n' all, so I'd hate to leave'm in a spot of bother if it can be 'elped.

Kullonar's good mood suddenly turns to concern when the lad, Weasel, rushes back in and mentions something about wererats. "Are you saying this town has a problem with wererats? Cook, what does this boy mean?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:30, Mon 26 Sept 2016.

Bruno had started to speak with a question quite similar to Kullonar's, but the half-orc beat him to it. Nodding in agreement he added, "Aye. What is all this?"

Myrrick's hands drifted close to his sword and dagger's handles.

Just for clarification:

Weasel arrived down the main stairway that leads directly into the common room (think a square - the top part of the square has a passage leading upward to the second floor, where the rooms are - that's where Weasel came from.

Recall, Weasel left earlier with Cook - they took a doorway on the left wall into what you assume is the kitchen (safe assumption, btw).  That wall's where the bar area is as well ( the bar runs some thirty feet from the door to the kitchen to the bottom wall).  In the middle of the bottom wall is the entrance to the inn.  On the right wall sits the great hearth, and near the hearth is where everyone is sitting.

Cook is not with Weasel the second time he enters (from the stairs on the top wall).  You assume he's in the kitchen.

Notably absent as well is Barwin (the innkeep) and Brielyn (innkeep's sister) and Briella (Brielyn's daughter - the fat waitress), though there are several other servers running the table, bussing and, well, serving.

I'll have a new post up no later than tomorrow.  Its a work day for me today.

Cheers - and welcome to Weasel to the party.  I sincerely hope he does his name justice!!!

22 Patchwall, YR 1 of The Seer's New Greyhawk Orthodox Calendar.  Time: 1958 on the revised 24 hour-segment clock.

Weasel's arrival and subsequent announcement has left the party bemused.  Selene's face is drawn with concern, her Uncle is suddenly grim.  While the party members welcome the young human into their fold, Antonin begins issuing brisk orders to the cadre.  As one, the squad of elves stands and begins pushing tables and chairs out of the way.

As if aware of a sudden change, the help disappears.  Some ascend the stairs leading toward the guest rooms, others flee hurriedly outside, through the front door.  With their departure, an ominous air falls upon the inn.

Antonin barks at the group, "If any of you have silvered or enchanted weapons, now's the time to arm yourself with them.  Else it would be better if you get behind us.  Normal weapons will avail you not at all!"

He draws a sword that glows brightly as he says so, while the members of the cadre pull forth their long bows, and string silvered arrows to their strings.

Frankly, it is an odd tableau.  There is no noise, has been no noise from upstairs or in the kitchen.  As the minutes pass, you begin to wonder if Weasel, or even Antonin have overreacted.

Then all hell breaks loose.

A loud roar comes from the kitchen, followed by high squeals and humanish sounding voices issuing threats and curses.  Less than a minute later, a great crash occurs, than suddenly the door to the kitchen explodes into the common area, ripped from the hinges by a huge, bearlike monstrosity.

Riding the bear are three sinewy figures in course fur, with big, pupil-less eyes, elongated noses and large incisors that protrude from wickedly grinning mouths.  The three are plunging short swords that offer a similar, though more modest glow as Antonin's sword into the bear's back.  Blood spatters the floor, courses through the doomed bear's fur, yet suddenly he reaches his right paw over his shoulder, the claws extended and impales one of the rat-like critters.

(I invite you to check out the personages of note thread)

As the victim of his attack thrashes about, the other two ratfolk work their short swords with increased fury, plunging the blades over and over into the great beast's back.

The bear is failing.  As he falls to a knee, he cries out in a growling voice, "Shoot! Shoot your bows.  Kill them!"

You look at Antonin, note tears in the stoic elfs eyes as he nods and gives the order.  Two volleys of arrows plunge into the werefolk - the bear is felled nearly instantly, five of the silver tipped arrows in it's chest.  The impaled ratman is also killed, three arrows finishing the bear's efforts.  Of the two left upon the bear's back, one is felled by a wicked shot - a silvered tip piercing its eye - yet the grip the dead ratfolk refuses to let go and it is flung around like a ragdoll by the bear's death throes.

As more arrows fly, the last ratfolk uses the bear and it's compatriot as a shield, and as the elves reload, he leaps toward the kitchen and darts through the door.

"Go!" shouts Antonin to the cadre, and the move with deadly grace as they pursue the beast through the kitchen and out the door.

As the cadre disappears, Antonin moves quickly to the bear.  He pulls the wererats off the great beast and unceremoniously dumps the bodies to the floor.  He kneels at the bears head, waits quietly a moment.

Suddenly, a great tranformation begins to occur.  The bear - and the discarded wererats - change before your eyes.  It is a frightening display.  You all are sickened by it.  Yet once complete, you see the naked forms of Brielyn and Barwin.  Of the former's husband, nor of her daughter, there is no sign - it seemed likely one or the other fled moments before through the kitchen.

You also note Cook.  Blood froths his mouth.  His eyes are wide in shock and pain.  Then he offers a ghastly smile to Antonin, heaves a last, great sigh, and expires.  Sadly, there will be no prayers of thanks to Moradin on the morrow.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The aftermath:

Antonin covers the burly Cook with a table cloth, looks at Weasel.  "It says something that he was the only one who treated you well, boy.  Remember that kindness - it likely saved your life."

He adds, "I'll not get into close details, but know this, all of you.  Cook was one of our best men, been here for a long while.  We knew there was a problem - too many young folk disappearing.  Worse, Barwin and his families were spies from the March.  So we had a commission to follow up on.  Not your fault, Myrrick, but frankly your timing was for shit.  Fortune's kiss, I guess.  Regardless, all of this plays into your group's mission now...there's more riding on this trek to Quesqueton than you might reckon.  Think on that, then let us know your intentions in the morning."

It is an hour before the cadre returns.  The have been joined by Zenon and his scouts, but their news is disappointing.

"Could not find the last rat, Sir," said the Captain.  "Could be anywhere."

The clean up begins - the kitchen is a mess, but no signs of the escapees are present.  Antonin gathers the two magic short swords, offers them to the group.  "Wouldn't shock me if they follow you - we were hardly discreet and the fat wench certainly heard enough to draw some conclusions.  Damn I wish I had this night back!  Anyway, you'll likely need these in case they follow you.  Keep a close watch - they're clever fuckers, stab you in the back first chance they get."

The rest of the night passes uneventfully.  You all find it difficult to sleep, so there are some bleary eyes when the first touch of dawn stains the windows.  Antonin's awake with Zenon - Selene is still sitting crosslegged, her eyes closed as she walks the dreamscape - the prior had been a difficult day for her.  Antonin greets each of you, invites you to sit at table.  A server comes in and drops off a hot skillet filled with a mixture of scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon and fluffy biscuits with huge vats of butter and honey.

"Enjoy - on the house," Antonin grins.  "A good start to a journey...I hope."

Uthecar sits at the table with no further encouragement required.  He digs in deeply.  He is quiet as he eats, but before too long he talks to Antonin between mouthfuls.  "I don't like hiding behind others when arms are called for, it was cowardly and I shoulder blame for the death of your man.

The enchanted short swords will come in handy for some, but they are not my preferred weapon.  In my opinion the boy Weasel should have one at least, it'll be better than whatever toys he was using before, but I will not use the other.

It's not a decision (other than for Uthecar not to carry one) and if anyone else wants them, by all means put your hand up, though apart from Myrrick I think the others are priests and a mage.  Do fighter priests have to use blunt weapons?  Probably not, but I forget the details without looking it up in the books.

"For me I fight with the ax, for better or worse.  You suggested a silvered weapon would have still served, in place of one that is enchanted.  Before we head out, do you know of a smith skilled enough to work on a dwarfs blade.  I do not wish to be embarrassed again, and a small amount of planning now might serve us well in the mission ahead."

After a night of wild dreams where he battles shape-changing harpies, Kullonar finally decides to get up. He says his prayers, requests his spells, and then finishes dressing and comes downstairs. The smell of sausage makes his mouth water and he gladly tucks in, eating as much as the dwarves. When he pushes back from the table, he asks something similar as Uthecar: "Do you think I could purchase silver bullets for my sling before we leave? While the way of the Cudgel forbids me use bladed weapons, I can still help combat these shape-changers with my sling, no?"

Myrrick apologizes again for his poorly timed arrival and performance during the battles. "I'll gladly use one of the swords, and I will NOT let you all down again. I cannot. Thank you for the meal Antonin... it is much appreciated sir."

The events of the night before still haunting him, shape shifters... very unsettling.

In reply to The Seer (msg # 71):

When things exploded they certainly exploded. Bruno had stood with everyone else when the bear had crashed into the room. It was slightly before this when Weasel made the first mention of 'weres' that he realized he not only lacked a magical weapon, but none of his were silvered. Then he recalled that his helm, as those of all clerics of Moradin, is silvered.

So, his hand quickly went from his crossbow to... His helm. He took it off and the next thought occurred, Now what are you going to do?

By the time he had gotten to this point the elves had done what they did and he saw Cook's tragic, but heroic end. He says little the remainder of the night, but he makes clear to Uthecar that he thinks his fellow dwarf's guilty feelings are inappropriate, "Enough with your guilt, warrior. All who were here that could act did so. Had our elven friends not brought the rats down, you would have been in there without doubt and your end would have been no less heroic.

"We saws a hero fall today and no one present failed to do all they could in the moment. That is the nature of heroism, I think."

Turning to Antonin he continues, "I speak for myself, but suspect I say what others here are thinking: I'll not pretend that I find things here a bit confusing. You've got agents planted as you should and the owners of this place, who came from the March, are wererats. Sorry that it ended this way, but I respect your forethought. This does not change my thinking about anything we were discussing before this latest fight.

"I shall see you on the morrow and be ready to undertake what has seemingly become an even more important mission."

He has no comment about the short swords, though Uthecar would have noted in their travel that along with his hammer Bruno also carries a battle axe.

Retiring shortly after he does as well as he can to sleep. His dreams are not clear and his sleep is not good, but he is up and ready early. Finishing his prayers he joins everyone else to break his fast. When his dwarven comrade and Kullonar bring up preparations for dealing with wererats in the future he nods, "A silver piece would work as good as a silver bullet in a pinch, I would think, Brother, but I agree with what both of you are saying. If nothing else a silvered dagger for each of us who've no other options should be obtained."

Zan will help with the clean up of the werebear and wererats

"Short sword isn't really my style, but if no one else will speak up for the second blade, I'll find some way to put it it use."  He gives the others in the group a knowing wink like he already had something in mind.

You all find Antonin and Selene remarkably prepared.  The Countess offers both priests 10 silver bullets apiece from her personal stock.  For his part the Baronet offers each bowman a quiver of 20 silver arrows (or 12 quarrels for crossbows).

"Let it not be said that we sent you on this quest unprepared," Selene said, and you all note the holy symbol of Ehlonna on a necklace at the hem of her tunic.

ooc: let me know who wants the other short sword.

Myrrick takes the arrows and the sword, "Most gracious of you both, my thanks." His thoughts drift to Rennar, the chase, the voice, the path... This was going to be a dangerous, grand adventure. It seemed he had a capable and ready group to join him. He was content, the ranger in him ready to see the wilds, the other part ready to find the treasures promised in keeps of legend like the fabled place they now sought.

Despite the bustle, it is mostly a quiet morning.  There is staff evident, a burly bartender with a crossbow and sword hanging on the wall behind him giving quiet, stern orders to the wait staff and the new cook.  The old Cook and the two wererats were consigned to the flame, the former receiving a modest benediction from Selene.

It's hard to fathom that 24 hours prior this was a bucolic town.  Now it's the genesis of adventure, a starting point and, perhaps, a point to return too once the travels are done.  Of course, little thought is given to that - the immediacy of your departure makes you all keenly aware that you're stepping into something far different than you've ever faced before.  Questions linger in each mind about the gathered:

-Will the young human stand his ground in the face of danger?
-Will the natural rivalry between dwarves and elves create dissent.
-Will the half orc's orcish half come to the for at inopportune times?

You are mostly quiet upon the initial stretch of the journey.  Myrrick leads you along the way, retracing his steps from the prior day's events.  You see the occasional body - goblinoids mostly, with an occasional bugbear.  Rennar's work, and Myrrick's heart swells with fondness for his wounded mentor.

At last, you come to a passage, well traveled, ascending toward the upper Rakers.  It is past midday - given your excitement, you forgot lunch, but now each of you are hungry.

ooc: a good stopping point - a map coming today or tomorrow.  May want to discuss tactics, ideas, thoughts, whatever. 
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:08, Mon 26 Sept 2016.

OOC: Bruno will take the +1 short sword and leave his battle axe with Antonin and Selene, if nobody else wants it.

Bruno gladly accepted the silver quarrels and it impresses him further that the elven noble was so prepared. That there is new and seemingly prepared staff in place so soon after the previous night's events is even more impressive. It implies that on this mission they are working with/for an organization that thinks ahead and as such that does not ensure success, but it certainly makes it seem more likely.

He also notes Selene's holy symbol. It implies that she too is a cleric, but one may never be sure. Regardless, to his mind he can not help but think that it is a good sign. That they came to this place not too many more than 12 hours before they depart without a specific purpose and now not only have an adventure, but one that is an actual mission. One of national importance. This makes things even more exciting.

On the road he is quiet, but once they stop for lunch he has a question or two in his mind. He asks Myrrick and Zan, "So, we have a map of the castle itself? I take it from Lady Selene's words that we really have no idea what to expect once we get there?"

Nodding to Bruno, "It is a place of legend, so yes, I think you are right, we should be as prepared for anything as we can possibly be. Seems Rennar did us many favors this past evening. We will not, can not let him down. Let us break for lunch, quick. Then back to the journey."

Zan took the offered silver tipped arrows, still having little to say.  He did occasionally stare at Selene with a perplexed look on his face.  He gave a polite smile to both Antonin and Selene upon the group's departure.  Giving a bow, and said two words to them in elven, "an coia"

Zan was quite as well on the journey, he observed his traveling companions.  He had discovered ones actions spoke as loud as words at times.

When the group had stopped for lunch and questions were asked.  "Yes, that would be correct. the castle was thought to be in ruins, but now something has taken up residence there most likely.  Given the size of our group, I'm fairly certain that storming the castle isn't the best of ideas.  We will need to work as a team like we did in the tavern.  I believe that we have a general idea of what each is capable of so I would suggest that we come to a general agreement on how we should align ourselves to handle different situations"

In reply to Zan Bruno nods, "You're asking for a marching order? Might I suggest that whatever the rest of you agree to, Kullonar and I ought to be in the midst of the party? This way we might use the spells with which St. Cuthbert and Moradin have graced us with best?"

"All right then how's this sound for a general marching order to the group.  We travel in pairs as four eyes are better than 2.  Uthecar and Myrrick to be in the lead, followed by Bruno and Kullonar, Weasel and I could bring up the rear."

General Marching Order

"We can try and scout out ahead when possible, Myrrick and I are able to move fairly quietly, and possibly Weasel" Zan looked at Weasel to get his input.

He then added "Also have a little friend nearby that can help us scout out things as well, she's a bit shy side.  In time she should warm up to the group."

Uthecar considers what the others have said before he speaks.  "There is nothing overly sophisticated about my methods.  I see a problem that can be fixed by an ax, and I fix it.  Very few problems can't be solved with repeated blows from an ax." he nods with conviction as if he really did believe his own words.

"I have been told the blood lust can get the better of me, so it makes sense I take a frontal position so others are not trampled in my keenness to solve our problems.  Whether I hold the position by myself or with another, I do not mind."

He considers the current situation at hand that involves the storming of the castle.

"I see no other workable method as exciting as a full frontal assault, but scouting first makes sense, especially with so few dwarves among our number."

As you settle in for a lunch of jerky, dried fruit and water, you discuss the rest of the day's plans, as well as what might be expected once you arrive.

"Can I see the map?" asks Weasel.  (as a matter of fact: check the map thread)

At last it is brought out, a small sketch roughly drawn.  Beneath Byrnir Height (to the left on the sketch) are elfin runes indicating a small depression filled with undergrowth.  A poorly stylized 'Q' seems to mark the location of the legendary hold.

"I think this order suits us given our respective abilities.", Bruno replies to Zan's suggestion.

When he refers to a shy little friend nearby he raises an eyebrow, the left, but does not inquire further as he takes another bite of jerky.

Looking over Weasel's shoulder he takes a swig of water and asks, "What do the runes there tell us?"

Myrrick sighed, "We will ikely have to make camp, the distance is greater than I anticipated... my retreat was at a sprint, not our current pace. I covered much more distance than I believed. We will need rest if we are to arrive fully prepared. As for the marching order, it makes sense to me."