“Good to be back in the land of milk and honey,” Garl mutters drily as he sips it up.  Looking up at Galendra, he asks, “Are you sure you hate yourself enough to join up with us?  Where we’re going isn’t exactly pleasant.  You might find yourself wishing you were home, baiting hooks.”
This message was last edited by the player at 03:47, Mon 01 Jan 2018.

At the innkeep's wave, Sir Roland gives him a nod of thanks, then abruptly sweeps in to the welcome warmth of the Gryphon's Nest. He makes straight for the fireplace, expecting bedders, on account of his rank, to make space for him and his companions. His manner and behavior is neither unruly nor rude, but the natural expectancy of the privileged.

He sets down the backpacks full of boar meat then turns and beckons for his two companions to come join him.

After making sure that Garl is bedded down and comfortably resting, the knight seats himself down, rubbing his hands in front of the fire. He accepts the drink gratefully from Wyatt.


Sir Roland glances up at the approach of the young maiden smelling faintly of fish. Nose wrinkling, an irritated frown furrowing his brow, he is about to ignore her and turn back to staring into the fire, when something about the woman catches his eye. Her speech may be that of a fisherwife, but her gait is of one who trains with swords. Her peculiar green eyes however exude a most annoying...naivete. Bucketloads of it.


The knight does not respond to her overture immediately, but takes a moment to size her up. Presently, he asks gruffly. "Ever bloodied that blade of yours?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:48, Mon 01 Jan 2018.

"Well, now ... In a manner of speakin' I've bloodied it. If yew counts varmints, that is ... And I threatened the miller's boy with it when he tried to come after me jewels, as yew might say ..." She trails off. "So ... no, to be entirely honest, not enough to be scribin' legends or singin' praises.

"Rorn shot a pig once, I think ... Did you shoot a pig, Rorn?"

"Gods know, me blade's been a thirstin', Milords! This sword ain't seen action in five generations, yew know? We Oryahovitsa's used to a be a fightin' family. But then the bloodline got diluted. Orcs ..." She spits on the ground, then wonders if spitting is an entirely heroic trait. Do lords and ladies spit? "Damn it, though, I'd skewer an orc like a grub on a hook, so I would! Give me half a chance, and yew'll see I make up for ... um ... 'knave-ity' ... with dumb stubbornness!"

Galendra then notices Garl's ears. "Holy mackerel, is that a elf?!" The fishergirl's hair practically stands on end. "I mean ... are yew a ... elf?" If Galendra's eyes could get any bigger, they'd pop.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:00, Tue 02 Jan 2018.

The knight chuckles at the Galendra's answer in spite of himself. "Well yer a plucky one for sure lass."

His chuckle turns into a good natured guffaw at her astonishment with Garl. Wiping tears from his eyes, Sir Roland fixes his twinkling eyes on the maiden. "I like you lassie..." His demeanor turns serious. "...but as my comrade says, our road is dangerous and full of hardship. I suggest you think long and hard before throwing away your peaceful secure life to join us."

He looks curiously in the direction of Rorn. "And what of your friend? Does he want to skewer an orc too?"

"Holy mackerel, is that a elf?!"

"C'mon, Gal, don't be posing like such a bumpkin," Rorn says from close behind.

Forced to intervene after hearing his name, the young farmer now stood near the traveler's table and gave each man there a long, appraising glance.  Elf, huh .. wonders and magic.

Up close, he smelled like woodsmoke (more of it real smoker's hut smoke and less weed, but still a definite tell-tale of pipe-puff there too) and certainly was young - maybe twenty, certainly no more - and definitely not tall at all.  Scrawny, with a tousled mangle of dirty hair and the fairly grubby overall look of a peasant.

"Yah, and you catched *a* fish, once," he chuckles, slapping Gal on the left butt in a friendly way.  "While you were standing over your hooks I Just got back from Creeper's Corners with a twenty-stone buck, yaknow .. had to sled it in."

No boast, it was a good catch for this late season, and maybe the last venison until next moon, so it deserved a good smoking to ensure no meat spoiled at all.  And a goodly-sized haunch would be going to the Nest, too, which helped cover a coin-less fellow's drink tab.

"Anyways, yes, name's Rorn and I missed you lot the last time you were through but heard all about it, be sure.  I can't imagine what you are all doing out there .. but it has to be exciting, right?  Maybe some lost treasures and golds are involved, hmm?

The youngster's eyes sparkle with the prospect; he's clearly keen on some romantic notion of forgotten riches out there in some cave .. if only one had the right map, or elf-wisdom, or dwarf-sense, to find it.

"Smart folks here are tucked up tight until the spring melt, and that's not for a good while.  So, I guess that makes me a-wonder, what exactly is out there that's got your interest?"

He looks curiously in the direction of Rorn. "And what of your friend? Does he want to skewer an orc too?"

Rorn returns the stern warrior's gaze as calmly as he could.  "Uhm, sir?  Orcs?  Yah, there might be some about but no real trouble here with them unless it's summer when you had best watch your barnyard for a brave trying to sneak up on you."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:49, Tue 02 Jan 2018.

“Am I an elf?  Yes, I am an elf.  With full working plumbing.”  Garl scowls.

He glances at Roland.  “If they’re serious, and if they can pay for their own equipment and provisions, I have no objection to their joining us.  We can always use warm bodies.  Provided that they understand there will be no escorts home if they change their minds about desiring to skewer orcs.  If you want to sign them up, I’ll leave the details regarding compensation entirely up to you.  You’re a sensible man, I’m sure you can forge an equitable pact.”

Garl looks directly into the camera, breaking the fourth wall.

“Some folks around here are just too eager to die.”  He winks.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:37, Tue 02 Jan 2018.

Three people came back from the Forest cold and battered (especially the one with pointy ears), but with their backpacks overflowing with boar meet.
The Innkeep offers you a deal: the five of you can rest and recover your strengths [OOC your STAMINA goes back to its initial value] while he smokes the meat and turns it into "iron rations", then you can put in your backpacks as many iron rations as you want, blankets, rope and similar mundane items, then you go back to the Forest of Bron and the rest of the meat is for him.
[OOC your backpacks can carry up to ten "bulky" items, i.e. items that you don't wear (like a ring or a belt or a weapon hanging on your belt) and don't fit in a pocket (like a scroll, but a book wouldn't fit in a pocket). You don't need to count in these ten items your waterskin and your money pouch, but your bedroll will count as one item. You can hunt (but it is winter and you get a penalty as there are not too many animals to be found), but you need two meals a day and a good night sleep (although you can take a turn of watching...) to stay at the top of your energies and recover from possible injuries.]

Galendra's face goes livid, and she sends a barbed glare to Rorn. "You don't want to go fishin' in them waters, Rorn ..." she growls.



Galendra frowns, raises an eyebrow, glances down, and blushes. "Oh ..."

Sir Roland levels his gaze at the young man. Another naive romantic. This one however is a hunter, probably skilled with a bow too. He notes the well-used bow on his shoulder, and his smooth deft movements, suggesting one who is alert and quick to respond. And hopefully to obey as well. He thinks to himself ruefully. He looks sternly at both young persons., addressing them in his sternest, most uncle-like tone.

"What about your Ma and your Pa? They know you talking to strangers and going..." He stops and looks down with a sigh. "We will rest here for the night and the following day as well. Once we are done with our resupply, we will leave."

"You two are helping me. Tomorrow."

The knight clears a space and waves for the two to join them in front of the fireplace.


Sir Roland gratefully accepts the offer from the innkeep. He rests, eats, and recovers his strength in the inn for the night. He is up early next morning, looking into what equipment and supplies are needed, taking care of the resupply of the company.

The next day, Sir Roland wakes early. He calls Rorn and Galendra to himself, and with a stern expression, briefs them on the mission.

"I am Sir Roland Halfstaff, Knight of the Household of Sir Bedivere Grayson, Baron of Tyntern, Lord of these lands, and your liege. This here is Larson from the Northlands, and Garl of the Woodland Elven people."

"We are traveling to the Tower of Hellwinter. To find out what had become of Sir Gallaharn Kairn. He received orders from Lord Grayson to garrison the Tower alone, as had been the practice for the last several years. But there had been no news from him for more than three months."

The knight pauses here for a moment. He glances from one to the other, allowing some time for the information to sink in.

"The villagers have reported unusual signs of - and in some unverified cases, actual encounters with - goblins, orcs, and other darker and fouler creatures in the nearby forests. Our secondary objective, is to find out the truth of these reports, and to destroy any such infestation of dark creatures. Render the surrounds of Gallows End safe for residents and travelers alike."

Brows arching into a V, the knight looks sternly at the two young people.

"I thank the heavens for your willingness to join us in this cause. Though in truth, your inexperience combined with your youthful enthusiasm for adventure, is often the cause of many failed quests, broken lives and bereavement."

"I expect your prompt and unquestioning obedience. To any order from myself, or my two comrades. Joining our party makes you soldiers just like the rest of us. Do your duty, and it shall go well with you. And perhaps you might live to grow old, and tell stories of your encounters to your children and grand children."

"As soldiers, you will not be paid a stipend. Instead, you shall receive an even share of whatever valuables we find in the course of our mission."

"Questions?"

Garl folds his arms, looking deathly serious.  One might think he was pondering some weighty matter of arcane significance.  In reality, he’s hoping all that smoked bear meat doesn’t give him constipation.  Only slightly less importantly, he hopes the new recruits don’t get their skulls hammered in for at least twenty-four hours.  He really wants to reach Hellwinter some time this century.

Larson hadn't been in the inn the night before he'd gone to the kitchen and stacked a platter of meats and bread for himself before returning to the stable where he sat comfortably eating.

Unfortunately the journey had made the large northman more exhausted than he knew and after eating he'd fallen asleep.

This morning he'd raised early washed in the horse trough and headed round to the front of the inn where he came upon his companions having a serious conversation with a tall lady and a runty looking lad upon hearing the knight speak his name he strode over to silently tower over the two new comers with only a nod to each as they looked at him

Galendra's face goes livid

By contrast, Rorn's face shows a mix of innocent surprise and mischief; and he definitely gives Gal her space after.  "Aww, and here I thought this was going to be fun," he mutters.  Message received!

Rorn explains that he will be back at first light, and excuses himself.  He quickly heads home, and explains the "good news" to his parents.  "I'll be careful, back soon, an back with enough golds to help us build a better life!!"

****

Back early, Rorn trades some smoked venison for breakfast and listens to the group leader with a serious expression.

I am Sir Roland Halfstaff, Knight of the Household of Sir Bedivere Grayson, Baron of Tyntern, Lord of these lands, and your liege. This here is Larson from the Northlands, and Garl of the Woodland Elven people."

Having stopped listening after the second name, Rorn snaps back to when the other men are introduced.  Larson and Garl, got it.  "Sir," the youngster bobs politely towards the elf (no handshake though, touching elfs was bad-luck), and he later offers a hand grip to Larson when the man comes back to the common area.

"We are traveling to the Tower of Hellwinter. To find out what had become of Sir Gallaharn Kairn. He received orders from Lord Grayson to garrison the Tower alone, as had been the practice for the last several years. But there had been no news from him for more than three months."

"Yah, uh huh," Rorn nods along. Seemed important.  No news for three months, wasn't that normal though.  "So uhm, sir, Roland, Sir Roland .. this tower far away?  Never heard of it."  Hellwinter?  Seriously??

"The villagers have reported unusual signs of - and in some unverified cases, actual encounters with - goblins, orcs, and other darker and fouler creatures in the nearby forests. Our secondary objective, is to find out the truth of these reports, and to destroy any such infestation of dark creatures. Render the surrounds of Gallows End safe for residents and travelers alike."

Uhm, sure.  There were bad things in the woods, if you went looking.  Darker and fouler than goblins and orcs?  "Well, ah, sir, I have been all around this area all my life, not far far mind you, but around.  Never seen nothing awful, if you catch my meaning."

Brows arching into a V, the knight looks sternly at the two young people.

...

"I expect your prompt and unquestioning obedience.

Rorn passes a quick look to Gal, then he grins at Roland.  "Yup, Sir, obedience, that it was us humble folk do.  I track, I hunt, can keep warm and fed,  I will do my best to help on this mission ..."   He trails off, waiting for the good part.

"As soldiers, you will not be paid a stipend. Instead, you shall receive an even share of whatever valuables we find in the course of our mission."

"Questions?"

"Nah, sir, that sounds just like I imagined.  My ma and pa'll be so happy to hear I got a real responsible piece of business to attend to, for once."

“Just try not to be ‘responsible’ for getting us all killed,” Garl snarls.  “The wilderness is no place for on the job training.”

The big northman chuckles and puts a shovel sized hand on the boys shoulder "I like this one he makes me laugh" he said with mock seriousness to his two friends " lad if you survive this adventure you and I might just become friends" he gave a growl of a laugh and slapped the lad on the back a gentle slap for the large man but never the less it was like being hit with a block of wood

Galendra nods along with Sir Bedivere, silently accepting the conditions of employment. I guess this is how all the grand heroes of legend start out, she supposes.

Galendra shakes hands with all her employers, only remembering afterwards that it was bad luck to shake the hand of an elf. As a result, she spends a lot of the time glancing at her hand as if some gangrenous growth might erupt at any moment.

"Jokes aside, Rorn's a good lad. Yew won't find a better man in Gallow's End, nor a better hunter." The fishergirl grins.

"Well ... I for one am rarin' to go, the sooner the better!"

Done with the introductions and briefing, Sir Roland gets on with the resupply of the company. By morning of the 2nd day since their return, strengthened by the addition of 2 new members, the company is ready to move out again...

OOC Now I have a new deal for you: if you want to go back to the other side of the forest following exactly the same path you followed last time (and you almost reached the other side), we can make it faster and you five can test for LUCK.
Depending on how many of you pass the test, you will have more or less (or no) issues crossing the forest (so we won't repeat some situation). You can do the hunting rolls separately just to understand if you need to eat rations or not.
You know that this way you will need three full days to cross the forest and Rorn and Galandra can tell you this is the fastest way through, so you will be facing the ascension to Hellwinter Peak and then you will be finally at Hellwinter Tower.

In alternative, you can just roleplay everything step by step, choosing different paths, if you want, which may have advantages and disadvantages.

Decisions? :)

OOC: I’m old school, so I vote to investigate every possible branch and kill everything that moves before advancing.

“Just try not to be ‘responsible’ for getting us all killed,” Garl snarls.  “The wilderness is no place for on the job training.”

Oookay.  Rorn smiles weakly and decides to give the sour elf a wide berth from then on.  Which naturally pushes him closer to his prey-du-jour, ahrh, Gal.

"Jokes aside, Rorn's a good lad. Yew won't find a better man in Gallow's End, nor a better hunter." The fishergirl grins.

"Aww, that's too kind, Gal," he chirps, getting close but not quite invading her space like last time.

slapped the lad on the back a gentle slap for the large man but never the less it was like being hit with a block of wood

"Ow."

Betraying his inexperience, Rorn is quite eager to get moving away from the comforts of civilisation, such as they are.  The 'Hellwinter tower three days away' was something you might know about, but he'd never been there.  It was haunted for sure.  Probably some mad wizard built it - they built all the towers, you know - and now some mad wizard's monsters are running amok and just in time for Winter Festival.  Funfunfun.

Once they are on the road, the youngster takes point, keeping quiet and ahead, eyes open for deer tracks and anything else a hunter might notice.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:20, Fri 05 Jan 2018.

Garl tries to keep in the middle of the party, since he’s really not well suited to physical rough stuff.  Meanwhile, he tries to distract himself by thinking of old riddles that amused him as a child.  For the most part, he fails, as he is not as easily amused as he used to be.

Galendra is more at home by the water, and wilderness survival is not her strong point. Still, she does her best to keep alert and not step on any serpents. In the end, she proves more of a burden to the party, jinxing them more than half the time.

Galendra rolled 12 using 2d6.  Luck Roll (Luck 10). FAIL

[OOC: Oops! For some reason I thought we rolled three times ?!?! Anyhoo, I failed the first one, so that's how it stands.]
This message was last edited by the player at 21:03, Mon 08 Jan 2018.

14:18, Today: Larson fossas rolled 11 using 2d6.  Luck roll target number 10.

As they proceed, Garl tries not to brush against the humans.  He’s heard that touching them is bad luck, and he’s already experienced plenty of that during this adventure.

He keeps an eye out for bears.

[OOC please double check your equipment before moving on!
The adventure continues here: link to a message in this game ]