The Rusty Blade.   Posted by Dr.Fate.Group: archive 0
Dr.Fate
 GM, 6 posts
Tue 15 Nov 2016
at 20:40
The Rusty Blade
The village of Abbytown is nestled in a deep valley surrounded by nearly uncrossable peaks.  The people have always been hard and self reliant, but in recent years with the passing of the town's self appointed protector, Sir Denten, the townsfolk are pushed nearly to their breaking point.  Brigands have set up camp somewhere outside the village and have caused nearly all supplies to the village to shut down.  Goblins and other dangers have made it unsafe to travel even in broad daylight.  The town is in desperate need of heroes!

Having made the difficult journey to the valley just ahead of some nasty weather you find yourselves unable to turn back.  Ahead of you is a small walled village of Abbytown.  The only inn within the place is a squat two story building with a stone foundation and wooden second floor.

Inside you find a homey place with several empty tables a fire burning low on the hearth and what looks to be a table of several locals playing a game of stones while the innkeeper busies himself wiping down a counter that clearly doesn't need it.

This message was lightly edited by the GM at 21:04, Tue 15 Nov 2016.

Fiona Glintigar
 player, 3 posts
Fri 18 Nov 2016
at 02:17
The Rusty Blade
As the Abbytown watchman dragged the gate closed behind her Fiona favored him with a bright smile and a curtsy.  This bit of cheer failed to improve his glum expression, but then again, she couldn't blame the man.  As the plucky dwarven lass strolled the thoroughfare and took in the state of the place she concluded that the harried messenger hadn't overstated the troubles in these parts.  On the way in she'd spotted fires off the East road where nobody ought to be living and had to take the long way around some rather suspicious travelers.

She threw open the door to the Rusty Blade Inn with a bejeweled hand and strode inside with an air of confidence.  A quick glance about showed the place to be disappointingly drab, but that was to be expected.  Fiona hailed the proprieter, "Fine day to you, innkeep!  Abbytown's just been given cause to celebrate, so let's have a round of ales for all, on me!"  The dwarfess sidled up and leaned on the bar to whisper conspiratorially, "Make it your cheapest swill, mind."  She shot the innkeep a sneaky wink before raising her mug to the table of locals.
Dr.Fate
 GM, 12 posts
 Fate is fair!
Fri 18 Nov 2016
at 14:02
The Rusty Blade
Abbytown, once a charming mountain community, seemed packed and crowded within the wall.  A few shops, most with living quarters perched above them for the proprietor and their family, stood along the interior of the wall.  The wide dirt roads were crowded with odds and ends, and carts full of things people couldn't bring themselves to leave.

The interior of the small village consisted of a low stone building with a thick iron reinforced wooden door.  The inn with it's painted placard depicting a silver sword covered in a redish-orange stood off the village green that was now jam packed with livestock.  Further down the street was a lonely blacksmith, the forge fires cold; from the looks of the wares upon the wall looked more used to shoeing horses and repairing pots than armor or arms.  A small wooden church stood near the center of town the gauntlet and eye of Helm clearly painted above the doors.  The sound of a stream can be heard further back behind the green on the western edge.

The people in the streets are hard faced, though not unfriendly, but the cast of their eyes makes it clear that they have had nearly all they can bear thrust upon them.  Most keep about their business, or try to, though of late a general malaise seems to grip them unsure of what to do within the walls but unwilling to venture out to abandoned farmsteads for the danger.

As Fiona enters the inn, the proprietor, a hearty man in a gleaming white apron, greets her as jovially as he can.  His face looks haggard but the smile is real.  Perception check for me please, DC:15
"Well met, milady." he says bobbing into a sort of half bow.  "Don't get many strangers in these parts, now a days.  If you be needing lodging we have plenty of room.  Will you be stayin', milady?"

At the mention of ale a small girl rushes from the side room.  Not your typical serving maid, she's perhaps eight years old, her dark hair drawn in twin braids and reaching past her shoulder.  Using a stool already positioned beneath the tap she pours a mug and delivers it to the dwarven woman.  A quick curtsy and a, "Milady..." later she's off to pour two other mugs for the stone players near the hearth.

Being away from dwarven lands you've forgotten what most humans call ale.  It has neither the rich aroma or the dancing pallet of complex yet balanced tastes of true Dwarven ale.  Still, it's better than water, even if to most dwarves it might be better used to water plants than quench thirsts.

This message was last edited by the GM at 14:05, Fri 18 Nov 2016.

Boris
 player, 3 posts
Fri 18 Nov 2016
at 15:58
The Rusty Blade
Boris had been in town since sometime early this morning. After sleeping in the wilds outside the gate closed the night prior he finishes his morning mediation by the bubbling stream near the town. "Akadi, Mistress of the Sky may you bless today with your grace and keep the wind forever at my back. For your power gives this humble servant a reason for living." The mantra had become a part of his daily prayers. Never one to fully take to the life of the clergy Boris always felt a since of calm and welling of power after praying to the queen of air. After all the church was the whole reason he made it out of northern reaches, it was a small penance to pay for the life the church had given him.

After finishing a big stretch he dons scale armor, cleans off his shield bearing the cloudy iconography of the Queen of air and throws his oversize robe, damp from the morning dew and dirty from the road over his shoulders. This area was worse that he had heard. Abbytown was in a poor state and seeing the villains on the road, he felt a looming sense of danger. Boris felt a strange sense of relief, a run down area like this would be a perfect place to disappear from his past.

He Gathers he belongings and makes his way to the tavern. He needed some wine and a good meal to really take in what this day has to offer. His tiny coin purse rattles with a few coins left over from his pilgrimage. As he opens the door to the Rusty Blade, the smell of old ale washes over him.

[Private to GM: Edit for colors, still getting used to system]

This message was last edited by the player at 17:34, Fri 18 Nov 2016.

Xerra
 player, 2 posts
Fri 18 Nov 2016
at 16:34
The Rusty Blade
Xerra had been lucky so far, when her path through the mountains had been cut off due to an avalanche she had no choice but to press on through the pass towards the village of Abbytown.  A rolled parchment clutched in her hand, she had read it several times since seeing it in a local tavern a few days travel from here.

"Heroes wanted.  No experience needed!"

It was all she had been waiting for since leaving her training at the monastery.  A way to challenge herself along the path of enlightenment and maybe make some coin and reputation in the process.

She nimbly kept to the road pulling the fur lined cloak up high as the icy winter winds whipped through the open.  It was a relief when she made her way inside the walled village.

Having no place to stay, a few coins in her pouch and loathing the idea of yet another night on the cold hard ground she made her way to the inn.  Upon opening the door it was clear to see that she was not alone in her response to the advertisement.  An unkempt man and bejeweled dwarf were clearly outsiders with armor, packs and weapons.

She smiled, throwing back the fur lined hood of her cloak she made her way over to the table the dwarf was sitting.  In a stream of harsh sounds and guttural noises she greeted the woman.
In Dwarvish if you understand it.

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
"Blessings of the Ancestors upon you," she said in traditional dwarven greeting.  "I am Xerra of the Way of the Wind.  May I take a seat at your table?"

This message was last edited by the player at 16:35, Fri 18 Nov 2016.

Fiona Glintigar
 player, 4 posts
Fri 18 Nov 2016
at 17:31
The Rusty Blade
OOC:  Fiona spotted absolutely nothing... probably the start of a trend :)
08:48, Today: Fiona Glintigar rolled 2 using 1d20.  Perception.


"Of course I'll be staying!  Can't expect me to rescue this burg all before nightfall, can you?  Might take a day or two." Fiona replied to the innkeeper with a laugh.  When the adorable little girl delivered her ale with a curtsy the dwarfess smiled fondly, "Thank you kindly, miss.  Hold still a moment... you've got something in your braid!"  She palmed a small batch of coppers from her own coinpurse to pay for the ale and with a little sleight of hand she attempted to make it seem as though she was plucking the coins right out of the lass's braids.  One of the coppers dropped out of her palm, bounced off the girl's shoulder and jingled to the floor.  Fiona snatched up the fallen coin and offered the bunch up to the girl, trying to play off her fumble with enthusiasm, "Coppers tumbling out of your hair like magic!  Exactly the amount for the ales, fancy that.  Bring those to your pa, would you dear?"

OOC: So much for wowing the kid with a magic trick, wah:
08:59, Today: Fiona Glintigar rolled 9 using 1d20+6.  Sleight of Hand.


Fiona had just settled in at a table and took the first swig from her flagon when a rather striking woman introduced herself and asked to sit.  She'd asked for swill, but this tasted like it came straight out of the stable trough!  Doing her best to suppress a grimace she swallowed down the mouthful of human-brewed stale-ale and greeted the lady with a smile in a rumbling dwarvish brogue,

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
"And may they bless you twofold in return, miss."  She eyed Xerra with raised brows, "Well, you're a fetching lass, aren't you?  Your Dwarvish isn't half bad, either.  I like you already!  Fiona Glintigar of Glinthold, at your service.  Please, sit and share a drink!  Are you here about the troubles too?"

Dr.Fate
 GM, 15 posts
 Fate is fair!
Fri 18 Nov 2016
at 18:53
The Rusty Blade
The innkeeper beams at Fiona, "Of course, milady.  I'll prepare a room for you right away." he takes a few steps towards his ledger to record the transaction when Boris enters the establishment.  The innkeeper exhales slightly in the mad rush of customers.

He wipes his hands on his apron, ledger forgotten for the moment and addresses the new comer, "Welcome to the Rusty Blade... mi'lord?" he eyes the long tangled hair and turban somewhat skeptically unsure of what his customs might be...  But the mace at his hip and subtle clink of armor as he walks is a clear indication of an adventurer.  "What can services can we offer you here?"

As he spoke from the table where Fiona sat came the clink of copper coins hitting the floor along with the racious giggles of the "serving maid" as coins cascaded out of her hair and fell upon the floor.  She nearly bounced upon her toes watching the dwarven woman scoop the coins into her hands.  She went racing off to her father's side her apron pulled up to make a pouch to hold them all.

In the confusion and laughter Xerra entered the inn, looked over the room and invited herself to sit at Fiona's table.

At the appearance of three adventurers in the last few minutes and Fiona's comment regarding her desire to rescue this burg a woman came nearly bursting out of the kitchens.  She too wore an apron, but unlike the innkeep or his daughter, the woman's was not pristine.  It had signs of cooking and the door that swung open long enough to admit her confirmed as much as the smell of cooked vegetables and stew wafted into the inn's common room.

"You wish to help?" she said oblivious to the fact that she was still holding a wooden kitchen spoon in a fist.

Perception DC:15

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
You can see a brief look of shock and panic on the innkeeper's face before he quickly composes himself.


"Hela, no." the innkeeper said tightly but firmly at the woman.

"Sergei," she said her eyes red and cheeks tear streaked, "she said she wished to help..."

"It's not our place, Hela." he turned flushing brightly, "I'm so sorry." he said to the room.

This message was last edited by the GM at 18:55, Fri 18 Nov 2016.

Boris
 player, 5 posts
Fri 18 Nov 2016
at 22:29
The Rusty Blade
As Boris takes inventory of the tavern he pulls a single gold from his pouch, roughly 1/10 of his life savings. Everything up to this point had been expended during his escape from the northern reaches. Seeing the 2 females, with appearances of adventurers a flush runs through Boris' ashen face.

"Oh why hello young ladies" The aging man (maybe in his late 30's early 40's) speaks in the common tongue. "You will have to pardon my appearance" he gestures at his whole being vaguely. "The Roads have been hard and the goblins relentless"

He speaks in a heavy northern accent but his words are elegant and a certain magnetism seems to teem from his warm smile and electric eyes. Despite him looking like a homeless Santa Claus you may feel a sense of calm.

"I assume you two both have come to help this town. May I sit with you?"

2:10, Today: Boris rolled 15 using 1d20+3.  Persuasion Roll.

He does not wait for approval and pulls out a chair while beginning to ring out his knappy dreadlocks and places his wet cloak on a vacant chair nearby. He turns to the innkeeper and hands the small child bearing ale a gold and asks for "Wine, Water and a Welcome hot breakfast please."

Redirecting his attention to the ladies at the table.

"I am Boris, and might I say it has been quite such time since I have seen such beautiful creatures, especially in a place like this."
Xerra
 player, 3 posts
Mon 21 Nov 2016
at 20:16
The Rusty Blade
Xerra smiled as Boris approached, "Handsome men are always welcome at my table." she replied in common sharing a wink with Fiona.  "I for one am looking forward to a bed that doesn't involve rocks or frozen ground and a bath would be divine.  But I fear you may not have had your fill of goblins yet, judging by the talk of the town."

She winced slightly as the northerner wrung his dreadlocks upon the inn floor and subtlety and gracefully edged her cloak from the splash-zone while holding his eye in a piercing blue stare.

"A pleasure." she said as he introduced himself.  "I am Xerra of the Way of the Wind." she unrolled the parchment in her hand.  "I've come to do what I can to help.  As I suspect, have we all, this seemed a most reasonable place to start."

She looked up as the cook came into the common room, "It seems we might all find our chance to help sooner than later."

13:13, Today: Xerra rolled 22 using 1d20+4.  Perception.

Dropping her voice to be heard only at the table she says, "She's been crying.  Look at her eyes.  Something is dreadfully wrong.

This message was lightly edited by the player at 20:16, Mon 21 Nov 2016.

Fiona Glintigar
 player, 5 posts
Tue 22 Nov 2016
at 00:47
The Rusty Blade
"It's a pleasure meeting you, mister Boris.  No need to apologize for looking a bit rough-and-tumble.  You look a spring chicken compared to the craggy, shaggy cusses I call my kinsmen.  Fiona Glintigar's the name.  Have a seat!"  Fiona chuckled to herself watching the fellow wring out his hair while Xerra did her best to dodge the drippings.  She raised her flagon to Boris and replied, "You're a charmer, aren't you?  I can't speak for her, but you guessed right what I'm here for..."

She trailed off a bit when a woman burst from the kitchen to ask her for help, but then was shot down immediately by the innkeeper, probably her husband.  Pride, perhaps?  Fiona nodded at Xerra's words, noticing that the lady did indeed seem rather distraught.  Setting down her flagon, the dwarfess sat up and beckoned to Hela while reassuring Sergei, "No no, it's quite alright.  Heroing is a busy job, but I can't turn away a damsel in distress."  She actually had absolutely nothing to do at the moment, but these folk didn't need to know that.  Fiona met Hela's eyes and asked, "If you've a problem that can be solved with skill and guts then you've come to the right dwarf.  Tell Fiona what's amiss."
Torgard Stoneheart
 player, 3 posts
Tue 22 Nov 2016
at 01:09
The Rusty Blade
The door to the Inn opens, and the wettest dwarf ever seen slops in.  Torgard did not beat the weather, it would seem.

He walks forward a few steps, letting the door thump closed behind him.  "Baator's balls, it's mad out there!" He swears as he stands to the side near the door wringing out his cloak and beard as water runs off his hairless pate.  Once he is satisfied that he is no longer making a massive puddle, he enters the Tavern proper.  Scanning the room, he seems satisfied that none seem overtly dangerous or aggressive.

20:04, Today: Torgard Stoneheart rolled 14 using 1d20+2.  Insight.

Strolling up to the bar, he addresses the innkeeper.  "Greetings, friend!  Have ye got anythin' warm ta drink or eat ready?"
Aise Wytlambe
 player, 9 posts
Tue 22 Nov 2016
at 02:05
The Rusty Blade
As Aise moved into the Rusty Blade, not long after the dwarf, she didn't seem particularly like she cared about the rain she had found herself walking through for the last leg of her journey. Black rings of her hair stuck to her face and glistening-wet chain. White and pink of her face and red of her lips glossy with its layer of wetness while she opens those voluminous lips of hers to bite another chunk out of a crisp, red fruit, almost as red as the mouth that smudges open against it and with a flesh as white as the teeth that dig in.

She nods to the dwarf, again. She had already done so once when their paths converged and it became apparent they were both, in the rain, heading for the same destination. She lays a hand on the bartop, a series of metallic clattering accompanying the gesture thanks to her rings, and waits for Torgard to order while her fingertips drip beads of water onto the recently polished wooden counter. She gives a look around as she gathers herself, nodding politely if she catches any eyes and otherwise taking in the scene; she lingered on the conversation between the cook and what seemed like other travelers.

When Torgard has asked about warm food and drink she adds, "More of that for me, if you don't mind." After a slight pause she continues, "Also, there was speak of this community looking for help? Who might I contact about that?
Dr.Fate
 GM, 16 posts
 Fate is fair!
Tue 22 Nov 2016
at 13:45
The Rusty Blade
Sergei looked from his wife, Hela, to the seated adventurers offering help to a rugged looking dwarf and a curiously beautiful, but dangerous woman in rapid succession.  Finally his professional exterior cracks, "Fine." he says looking at the floor.

When his head popped up again he looked truly defeated, the stress of the situation he was trying to shoulder has finally broken.  "Hela," he said quietly, "get these fine people some stew."

He looked to Aise and Torgard, "You've the look of adventurers.  Please join us.  I don't know if I'll be able to get through a second telling." he gestured to the table Fionna, Xerra and Boris were now sitting.

He walked to the table and drew a chair from another table he sat down heavily in it with a sigh.  He waited for Hela to emerge from the kitchen deftly balancing five bowls and a hot crust of bread.

With food placed in front of each adventurer he said, "It's our son, Pyter.  He came out of West Woods some two days ago, stumbling around and white as a ghost. He wasnít making any sense, and as soon as we got him home, he collapsed and he hasnít woken since.  Nothing we've done has been able to rouse him."

He and his wife both now wore their emotions on their sleeves.  Both looked worried and Sergei slightly guilty.  "So many have lost so much, I've no right to ask you to help us.  The West Wood was dangerous in the best of times, now it's surely more so."

This message was last edited by the GM at 13:47, Tue 22 Nov 2016.

Boris
 player, 6 posts
Tue 22 Nov 2016
at 15:28
The Rusty Blade
Boris listened intently to the shop keeper. A part of him deep down felt sympathy for the distraught couple, however in his mind he knew this man to be the cause of his son's aliment. No self respecting father would allow their sons to wander the wilds without training. He scoffed internally, but he needed to make a good impression on this day.

"Good Sir, I have spent half a lifetime in the military, a third of a lifetime tending those weak in a hospital and my whole life looking to spread the good graces of the air goddess herself. I could perhaps take a look at your son and provide some insights."

He takes a long swig of the water and anxiously awaits his stew. Turning to the new tavern goers drench from the rains outside. "Apparently the tempest gods would press fate on this day! How often do such, able bodied, individuals find themselves in a tavern on the cusp of disaster?"

He turns his attention back to Fiona. "I appreciate the comment mi-lady." As he unravels his turban 2 large horns can be seen jutting through the top of his scalp. He doesn't seem to mind any stares or strange looks. Growing up as Tiefling has left him quite a thick skin, both figuratively and literally. "But charm may not be what this town needs. Low an ox with fineries and face makeup could be just as charming, if not more charming than one as low as myself."

He stands up, stretching a now visible wirey frame as he removes the top layer of a scale male armor and rubs his hands vigorously to encourage blood flow.
Xerra
 player, 4 posts
Tue 22 Nov 2016
at 15:58
The Rusty Blade
Xerra listened to the innkeeper tell of his boy, "You poor souls." she said when he had finished.

When Boris unwrapped his turban Hela raised a hand to her mouth with a sharp intake of air.  Insight Roll: DC 15

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
The reaction was quick and more likely caused by the shock of him revealing himself not to be human; rather than him actually being a tiefling.


08:51, Today: Xerra rolled 16 using 1d20+4.  Insight.

As if picking up on this Xerra deftly moved her hand and placed it gently on top of Boris' in a reassuring way.  "I like the horns better." she said gently.  "It suits you." she gave his hand an encouraging squeeze and looked around the table.

What an interesting crew, a human, tiefling, two dwarves and herself.  Still, they had come here for a reason.  This town was in need of help and they, like herself, had risked thier life to help.

"I might be able to help as well.  I'm no healer, but if I could see the boy I might be able to provide some insight.  Regardless, I'd like to help, dangerous or not; it's why I came."

This message was last edited by the player at 16:00, Tue 22 Nov 2016.