This is the player Tavern and Inn.

It's a cold night.  A dead cold night.  This was already winter deep within the northern reaches of the Moonsea.  The wind didn't blow, tonight, which made the surrounding quiet all the more devious and unsettling.

Your reasoning for being at the Blacklash Estate were your own, the camp had many features.  Besides being a known outpost for the Blacklash Guild, the Estate was home to a known priestess of Loviatar who sold potions and other minor magical items at a surprisingly reasonable cost.

There was also an assortment of goods for sale.  The Blackheart Guild were known as merchants and mercenaries, so it comes as no suprise the the Zhentarim have a stake in the area.  Let's not forget the stocks of whisky and ale.

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Your approach to the mansion was a huddled and huried one foot in front of the other march.  Beyond the biting cold, you could feel a sense of urgency from every posted man you seen - and you must've counted a dozzen.

Making a sharp right into the door, you about came face to face with a short, but very stout half-orc wearing leather armor and holding a greatclub.  It grunted at you, sniffing and grunting again before you passed by.

Once finally inside, you found yourself immediately singed by a gush of hot air.  The room wasn't small, but it was by no means a normal tavern size either.  It was a foyer of sorts with a stairwell leading up to the rooms, and another unmarked door leading down the hall.  Guessing by the guard posting, you made your way in the direction of the apparent problem.

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The office is rich and dark, mostly decored in wood.  Multiple tapestries hang from the walls, and one corner is mirrored, with a bar in front of it, a working kitchen sits behind.  There were several tables and chairs, each identical to the others, sporadically spaced.  Sitting around were several other men at arms, each eating, preparing weapons and armor, or in some phase of sleep.

Speaking with a tall, dark haired elf you didn't recognize, was your boss, Mr. Black.  (See his description) He said something you didn't quite hear, dismissed the elf and looked at you.  He stepped forward three steps and crossed his arms.  There was a ghastly smirk on his face.  Something bad was happening.

------------------------------

OOC - Feel free to play kiddos.  You can start now, in any order you want, and can each describe how you react to each thing you've encountered so far.  :)

As she trudged on across the frozen ground, Michaela muttered something under her breath. Probably cursing the Frostmaiden. A breath later, she thanked the same goddess for not sending snow. When the half-orc intercepted her, she simply gave the the familiar man a friendly thump on the shoulder and a wink before slipping past. Pushing inside, she smiled to herself and let her cloak hang slightly looser, before heading through. Stopping directly in front of Black, she gave him an impish grin and folded her arms, standing cock-hipped.

"Good even'. What blows?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:05, Sun 16 Apr 2006.

Your boss looks at you and snarls.  He doesn't so much as direct it at you in particular, but it's an effect of his mood.  You've seen this look before.  But before anyone can fully grasp the concept of what this look is, consider the obvious.

Master Black is a Grandmaster Assassin.  He specializes in killing people.  Quietly.  Victims just dissappear.  Nobody ever knows what happened to them.  Let's make this just a litle worse.  Master Black has never known defeat or failure.  It's widely whispered that your Master carries the divine favor of Mask with him.

So then, seeing the look on his face, you seriously wonder "Why would anyone be dumb enough to piss this guy off?" Hearing your master's words sent you back into normal reality.  "A man wants to die."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:02, Mon 17 Apr 2006.

"My way or yours, boss?" It was an old question, almost traditional. Quietly, or in such a way that the resulting inferno would result in the destruction of their estates and the evidence.

Gizelle, a woman who you could honestly say you knew almost nothing about. but recognized as the Guildmaster's private priestess of Loviatar spoke from a position at a nearby seat after swallowing down some wine.  "One of our riders carrying a payment to the Zhentarim for their military support was ambushed on the road."

The woman paused.  Her voice was dusky, and heavily seductive. "It was Gwen." Gwen on the otherhand you knew as the Guildmaster's woman.  Though you've never seen or met her before, you recall stories of her being a dark haired  elfmaiden.

...

The Guildmaster liked being able to just cross his arms and have other people speak for him.  You could tell.

Elyonna was tired.  She'd done her duty.  She wanted rest.  But summoned she was and so she must come.  She shivered slightly beneath her cloak, but enjoyed the weather nevertheless.  Finally she saw it in the distance.  She slowly made her way towards it, reluctant to work again so soon.  Elyonna had no choice, so she continued on.  She arrived at the door and opened it, getting in from the cold.  She stood there for a moment, loathe to proceed.

"Damn. My way, then... I'm told that burning alive is one of the most painful deaths there is." What angered mr Black angered Michaela. It was that simple. These people were her family, and she was rather loyal to say the least...

Elyonna continued her way on, getting past the...security...  She finally arrived inside and looked upon the rather upset countenance of the guildmaster.  Wondering who had done what wrong this time, she wisely stays silent, knowing she will hear of his anger soon enough.

    A large roar issued from the main room, the clamboring sounds of combat, and then the door into the lounge opened with a creak and groan. The huge half-orc's maul was covered in blood, his armor had stray splatters. He entered without a word, slung the large wooden shield he carried, a shield with the emblem of Tempus painted on it, over his back, leaned the maul in a corner, and used a piece of cloth to wipe blood off his face.
    "Little men in other room, weak. Kilgar didn't even need to use daggers." He clinked and clanked as he moved in his heavy half-plate armor. Subtly was obviously not the half-orcs strong point. He picked at one of the large teeth protruding from between his thick, fleshy, lips. "Why do the little ones always think they can kill Kilgar?"

"It's the way he talks." She grinned up at the other half-breed. "And the fact he moves slowly."

"Because I put them up to it, Kilgar." The Guildmaster had done something very few do, and that was put trust in the orc mongrel.  Many were unhappy with the guildmaster's choice of favorites, so it was decreed that in order to take Kilgar's face, you had to be able to kill him.

Obviously.  Nobody could kill him.

With the three of you hear, the Guildmaster turned away and poured a drink into a small silver cup.  It was decorated with engravings of swords and knives.  "I have an assignment.  Before I tell you the danger involved, and the object I require for completion, I will tell you the rewards for success." The Guildmaster gave the drink to the obviously cold elf.  He turned to pour another. "You will have earned my personal favor, and that of those under me.  Additionally, I will pay you, per normal contract."

The next goblet he handed to the other elf.  He stopped to pour a third. "1,500 gold a piece." Now that was something to think about.  It was the largest contract any of you had ever seen or had, by close to a thousand gold...

Michaela whistled at the amount, appreciatively.
"For that? I'll take a job that pays thrice normal." She grinned at him and toasted him with her cup. "You coming?" She glances at the other two with a smile.

Elyonna's normally impassive face remained so, even at the mention of such gold.  She sipped her drink slowly, studying her employer and the others in the room coldly.  After an inordinately long wait, she finally nodded her ascension to her employer, not speaking a word.

    "Gold is good. KIlgar like gold. Buy better things to hurt small men with." There was a nasty gleam in his yellow eyes as he hefted the huge maul and tapped it against his breastplate threateningly. He looked at the others in the room as the guildmaster spoke, and the expression he had said, "I dare you. Please, I'm begging you, do something stupid."
    Kilgar Axeface was a mongrel and a fan of simple pleasures, booze, loud music, and hurting stuff...though not in that order. Hurting stuff usually ranked first, though even the half-orc had to admit being drunk made hurting stuff more fun. He smiled a fangy smile.

The Guildmaster handed the last silver cup to the half-orc.  It was small in his big hands, but it would be really bad form to fuck up and drop it now.  "I knew you would all say that." The Guildmaster poured another cup for himself and took a sip before continuing. "The target is a Banite priest named Bruno.  Earlier this evening, the Banite launched a sneak ambush on a courrier of mine.  The courrier, Gwen, was killed." You could tell he was seething behind the black mask he wore.

"Don't worry about the gold.  If you find Gwen, return her, of course, but Bruno...bring him back.  Alive if possible." He shrugged apathetically. "Dead is just as good." Leaning back in his chair, the Guildmaster put a hand along the back of the chair next to him, gliding his fingers along the golden finishings. "Any questions?"

   Kilgar made a strange face, he was thinking. "Where we look first? Banite's not hide for long, but Kilgar hate chasing own tail." He looked at the cup and then the guildmaster, then back at cup. He took a sip, fumbled with the tiny cup and placed it on the table, a few drops of the liquid spilled onto his hands as he moved it around. He licked it off. "Next time, Kilgar bring his own cup. A cup for real hands!" He held up his huge hand with a little pride.

"Our hands are as good as we need them to be." She smirked up at the half-orc, then nodded seriously to Black. "We'll get him for you, don't worry. Just point us in the right direction. He got associates?"

Elyonna's perceptive gaze flittered over each of the room's occupants.  She remained silent, listening to the exchange with her everwatchful eyes.

   Kilgar looked down at the little female with confusion, then a slight smile. "You brave. Not many little people get smart with Kilgar. Kilgar like you, for now." He grinned. he then turned his attention to the matter at hand. "Give Kilgar a place, and Kilgar bring you your little man in a sack on the back of a donkey...Or in a few sacks on the back of a donkey, his choice!" He let a short gut laugh.

The Guildmaster cracked his knuckles,  then his thumbs.  Both hands simultaniously.  "About 6 miles northwest of here, through the forest.  Head west off of a deer trail when you get to the old clearing and the well.  You'll come to some hills."

You all knew that the Guildmaster wasn't going to be happy if he had to repeat these instructions, so committing them to memory was the easy part.  "Stay along the edge of the forest and go due north until you reach the stream.  Follow it until the ground turns into a swamp.  In the center of the swamp is a mansion.  That is your destination, but beware, rumors say there is a strange lizard man that makes the swamp his home.

    Kilgar nodded, committed the tactical information to memory and immediately began checking his gear. "Make sure all of you bring something to keep your gear dry. A rusty sword dulls quickly." Kilgar frowned. "Who all coming with Kilgar?" The half-orc looked around sternly, his yellow eyes gleaming in the light.

Elyonna's husky voice could finally be heard as she replied quite simply yet forcefully, "I am."

"Me too, of course. Hour northwest, then west to the hills. From there, north to the swamp. Find the mansion, torch the lizardman if he gets in the way, and grab the murderer. Nice and simple, just how I like it." She grinned, a slightly worrying light coming into her eyes... or maybe it was just the reflection of the fire.

  Kilgar nodded then looked at both the women curiously. "But, you're both little women." He seemed to pout. "Kilgar not want to carry small girls through dirty swamp." It was impossible to tell if he was joking as he finished checking his gear.

Elyonna smirked, tossing the man a challenging look and said, "Just keep up with us, big boy," as she turned with a flourish to leave the room.

    And with out another word Kilgar slung the Maul over his back along with the shield and headed out. He didn't need anymore instructions and he didn't need anymore advice. He was a tried and true warrior, he knew how to deal with the unexpected, and he was capable of dealing with nearly anything that would come up, and he hoped he knew how to spot what he couldnt deal with before it spotted him.
    He hurried, trying to keep up with the more nimble Elyonna. She hurried out so fast he thought about throwing a javelin at her, then he wondered what she would taste like fire roasted with a little salt and pepper, but shrugged, he might need her...

Okay kids.  Tavern scene is over for now.  You can now join your regular in game thread. :)


[Private to Kilgar Axeface: 175 exp for the tavern scene.]
[Private to Elyonna Shadowright: 125exp for the tavern scene]
[Private to Michaela Lehava: 150 exp for the tavern scene]

Michaela just shook her head with a grin, grabbing her backpack as she left the building and slinging her cloak over her shoulders.

Stoneskull stomped into the inn and loudly called to the bar for an ale to be delivered to his table. He found a table recently vacated (by a matter of seconds and a stern look from Gaius), and sat with his back against the wall.

The fight with the Lizard man was a victory that taught you both something.  The bounty hunters Cabo told you about were in fact Paladins, and they were working for a small group of Harpers in the area.  You still had to figure out what they were doing with the Lizard man, so Cabo suggested that the Lizard man had fallen for the same ruse, and tried to turn Bruno over to them when you stumbled upon them.

Kilgar was more pissed then any half-orc ever had to be that the Lizard got away.  He swore bloody vengeance upon the swamp that roasted chicken slept in that there would be a rematch.

After the fight there was a taking of the casualties.  2 for both sides.  Elly fallen victim to one of the Lizard's traps - a clever set of puff sacks each containing a dozzen or so green ants the size of a rat, and Cabo's apprentice was burned by the fury of Michaela's largest flame.  Worse, Bruno got away.

Reading the paladin's journal, Michaela is able to figure out that the amulet he worn was also somewhat resistant to flames (+1 Fire Saves) while Kilgar took stock of the situation.

Cabo had considered his job complete, and so was very much in a hurry to leave.  You both agreed it had something to do with the tomb of a fallen paladin.  Once the scroll in orcish was deciphered, Kilgar was able to confirm those facts.  He even knows the direct location.

After some mutual decision making, you both decided that the storm was too bad, and that there was no way to navigate the swamp.  It had been the third ambush in less then 30 minutes by kobolds and goblins.  One of the more intelligent kobolds mentioned something about a Lizard King, but turned invisible and fled before successful interrogation.

The trek back was difficult to find, but the Barbarian in Michaela, in spite of the ever present Mr. Murphy - who had even those big footprints turned into puddles - was able to follow the huge prints of Kilgar's six 22 boot tracks.  Doom on you Mr. Murphy.

-----

The literal Skeleton crew had been on guard, with only four humans and an ogre sitting around a covered porch playing dice just outside the door.  When Kilgar and Michaela returned the party got to it's feet and carefully watched, with their hands on their weapons as two heavily armed individuals walked into the guildhouse.

The new dwarf had soom come to realize that the inn was actually run like an army barracks.  It had it's own self contained tavern, inn, and about for our five private quarters in the middle.  It was three stories tall, with it's own stables attached to the rear.  You found out by way of questioning that the downstream swamp has a friendly Otyugh guardian - That explained the cleanliness of the area.

Unfortunately for the dwarf, he also realized - only after looking silly in front of about 5 or 6 armed men, two half orcs, an ogre, and what looked like a platoon of Zhentilars led by a trio of Banite priests - that the alcohole was self-service

The Warpriest had made his was south from the more tribalistic mountains to study at the shrine before spotting three of his clanmate's trademark horses.  What the heck, you could check in at the small shrine later.  Rain, an empty stomache, and the chance to see who was stopping by was something more important to take care of.  You found out after 6 pints of ale later and a plate of fish and eggs that they were acting as guides for the Zhentilar platoon.  They are taking them up into the mountains to train in survival techniques.  The dwarf was funny...  What a moron.  Couldn't he read the self service sign on the wall right there?

DM NOTE - For the sake of sick humor, I'm going to say there was a sign on the wall and Gaius missed it.

Then Axeface and Michaela stomped in out of the rain carrying what looked like three, make that four sacks of goodie.  Kilgar had a two and fifty pound chest on his shoulder, and a massive hammer in his other hand.  Disgustingly enough, he looked positively comfortable lugging the weight.  In fact, he had a rather smug look on his ugly, ugly axe-face.

Bugger. Well that serves me right and proper.

The dwarf laughs at his own foolish bravado and goes and gets himself an ale.
He slugs out a third of the mug to slake his thirst and looks around for a place to stow a coin.

Does the place run on charity or dont people want me coin?

OOC; Thanks boss;-)

Rogan had just arrived from the mountains.  He had no real desire to return to them so quickly.  so, Rogan did not join his clansmen.  He had some food and drink with them but they were leaving soon.  Rogan sat and watched the dwarf enter and claim his table.

Rogan bet he would be a good warrior.  He was looking for a company of good warriors to join up with.  The better to do his god's work.

Helping himself to another ale the man, of obvious Damaran descent, smiles to himself as he looks pointedly at the self-serve sign. Perhaps it was too high above dwarf eye-level... he thinks to hismelf. Warm as piss anyway but then I guess a dwarf don't care does he..

Looking to his seat off to the side he then look sback at the dwarf and starts to move towards him when the door opens. He pauses to take in the newcomers. Doesn't look too long, not enough to be noticed and continues on changing his trajectory and heads back to his original table leaving the dwarf to himself. He gulps his ale and observes the newcomers.

     Kilgar looked at Michaela and looked around, then back at Michaela. In a whisper, or, considering it was Kigar talking... In 'not yelling,' "I no think they get how bad we look." He slung the chest out in front of him after moving to the closest table and let it drop to the floor with a loud THOMP! The hu-freaking-mongous hammer clattered on the table with a shield on it. "Kilgar still want food!" the half-orc complained as he sat down, noisily. By now, only a dead person would have not noticed the two come in...

Heading back to his table the orange haired dwarf settles himslef down to be comfortable.

Looks like they get a good crowd in, could be some fun tonight.

Rogan grins and thinsk, "Now that is what I am talking about.  True, ballsy warriors.  I am sure that orc does not shy away from a fight."

Rogan grabs his gear and heads over to the loud orc. Speaking in orcish, Rogan says, "nargash, axe'em, aargg nascar de Tempus, nar grimesongr vos"

[Private to Kilgar Axeface: Rogan says, "Greetings Warrior. In the name of Tempus, I salute you."]

Then nodding to Michaela, Rogan continues in common, "I greet you to, elf.  I am new to this area and seek to join with warriors for work.  It appears as if you two know what you are doing.  I was hoping that I could sit with you while we ate."

Looking over the big newcomer and the elf Gordon smiles These two look like they could uyse someone with my skills. Breaking stuff won't work in all situations...Plus, it looks like they get work so I am about to get a pice of there action.

With a smile still on his face Gordon walks over as the other human introduces himself. Waiting a moment he interjects as well "Hello lads and lady. Seems you've got quite a load there. I'm thinking that you might know where one such as I could find employ. I know I came to the right place, I just need the right connections if you catch my drift. I got skills," he pauses and looks at each of them "that I think you could use. Stealth, cunning and no lack of knowledge when it comes to locks and traps. I earn my keep and you won't hear a peep of complaint out of me over hard work.

Gordon's the name."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:29, Thu 20 July 2006.

    Kilgar looked at the new found attention with a smile. He looked at Michaela and cheesed, "See! Now that better! Now everyone see how great Kilgar is! He even have small elven concubine!" He let loose a gut laugh before stopping to muscle whatever blow was definately coming from the elf.
    As the others spoke he looked at them...More appropriately he looked down at them. Kilgar was a good bit taller than everyone else and made no attempt to hide it. In fact he accentuated it. Every piece of armor on him bristled with noise. His waist held a netted bag filled with jawbones, and small skulls. It was decorated in fingerbones and feathers.
    The maul he carried had leather thongs attached to a partial orc skull and feathers. While be-decked in heavy, loud halfplate mail, Kilgar was still a big, ugly, half-orc. And being raised by orcs he had their affinity for taking trophies. Scalps, fingers, toes, heads... Kilgar had a lot of them. A surprising number were orcish.

    "Kilgar Warrior of Tempus!" He roared with pride. and smashed heavy hand against his chest. He rooted around in his backpack and produced a very crude goblet, but it was much, much larger than the any in the room. It had been carved of wood and looked horrible. Blood stains, and huge gouges were plainly visible where the artisan had cut themselves and slipped. He immediately filled the cup at the nearest barrel. "Kilgar not want another small sneaky man working with us. You're small and sneaky. What else you bring to table Gor-Don?" As the cup filled the half-orc stooped way down inspecting it closely. When it was full and he was satisfied he lofted it up high and smiled.

OOC: Think Link when he got a piece of the Tri-Force in the original legend of zelda.

     Kilgar returned, still smiling happily as he drank from the hand hacked Kilgar-sized cup. AS he drank nicks and cuts in his fingers were pretty evident. "Ahhhhhh. Much better. Kilgar not mind the smell of elf lady now." He looked back at Rogan, "You warrior or Tempus too? Or you just small man with big head?" That might have been the extent of a religious debate for the warrior...One could only hope.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Fri 21 July 2006.

"Hahahahahaha!!! You fools! You leave your mere undead to guard against a priest of Bane!  You are all going to die!" The mad priest had kicked in the door with a handful of orcish bodyguards.  Two of them were male, and they looked old for orcs.  One was weilding an axe and a shield, the other was weilding a quarterstaff and chose to fight bare chested.  The third orc hung in the back with Bruno, and was holding a lit torch and what looked like a giant goblet of blood - no, oil!

And for sword and shield skeletons had clamored in afterwards.  One more - a bow weilding skeleton had broken a nearby window and was taking aim.  "Kill! Kill! Kill them all I say!" The mad priest commanded with clenched fists.


OOC - You're all going to love me, tee-hee.  Roll for initiative and pm it to me in your post. :P
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Sat 22 July 2006.

Gaius found Kilgar highly amusing, but it was good to get at least another follower of Tempus in the door.

A good inn at last.

He swallowed back another gulg of ale, at least half being soaked up by his beard. Waste not want not he thought as he sucked his beard dry, when the cleric kicked in the door he couldn't believe his luck.

Hells bells I love this Inn.

Grabbing his axe and shield he charges across the floor, TEMPUSSSSS!

[Private to DM Swamprose: 01:32, Today: Gaius Stoneskull rolled 9 using 1d20+5. Init. ]
This message was last edited by the player at 07:38, Sat 22 July 2006.

Rogan readies his axe to meet the incoming eneies.  He had no idea who they were, but he never backed down from a fight before.

He points at the orc with the axe and shield and says, "Run in fear from the Wrath of Tempus! Cuz I'm gonna chop you in two!"

[Private to DM Swamprose; NPC Bruno: Init roll 23 (rolled a 20)]
OOC cast "Cause Fear" on orc with shield/axe

Gordon remains stonefaced at the large half-orc brute and begins to prepare himself to list a long series of glowing attributes and skills, Not that this brute will understand my true value, lord of all but I hope the elven maid has some sway over him.

Just then the door is kicked in and some crazed priest of Bane starts chattering and orcs and skeletons rush in behind him.

Dammit! I hate orcs... is the first thought that rolls through Gordons mind as he draws his sword and assumes a defensive position sitkcing close to the big brute Kilgar hoping to show his skill and teamwork.

[Private to NPC Bruno: 08:03, Today: Gordon Rasiak rolled 6 using 1d20+3. Initiative.
OOC: also I am now on the Defensive. +3 to AC]

Okay, the order of initiative is ... Rogan, Kilgar, Bruno, Orc Shaman, Gaius, Orc Grunts, Gordon, & then everything else. :D

It'll take some time to get a map up, but for the sake of simplicity... Everyone can reach a target if they choose.  Kilgar and Gaius are in the front row and will be directly assaulting the two orc bodyguards.  Then there's a pair of skeletons to their immediate left, and another five feet behind the two forward orcs is the shaman.  Bruno is partially concealed in the doorway.

The skeleton archer has 50% concealment in the window, and the skeleon that bust through the other window is going to be coming up at everyone's rear - that is, towards Gordon.

We cool?

OOC; Would you like us to post now or wait for our init turn?

The ensuing fight was a bloody affair and proved costly to the Blacklash estate. The combined forces of Orcs and skeletons managed to hold off Kilgar and Gaius for a vital few seconds. The orc holding oil flung the blasted stuff into the room and lit it with a flaming arrow.

The common room was instantly turned into an inferno as the copious amounts of alcohol that were laid on for the soldier blew up very quickly. A testiment to the high alcohol quality. Good beer and spirits was something that Blacklash had been reknown for. It was ironic in a way.

During the confusion Bruno gave his final command to the skeletons and made good his escape. With fire and screaming men behind them, orcs and skeletons ahead, our heroes fought like devils and forced their way into the blessed coldness of the snow outside.

The Blacklash Estate was almost totally gutted by fire. In the cold misty morning the extent of the damage is plain for all to see. Apparently some underground stores survived, which contained most of Guildmaster Black's personal wealth. It was the only thing he was thankful for.

Kilgar and Gaius had already left. The possibilty of payment seemed remote at this point and time so they had left for pastures new. There were a few men left with which the guildmaster was going to make for Zhentil Keep.

He has asked each of you to wait. The Guildmaster has a job for you which will pay handsomely.

You are currently sitting around the smoking remains of a table eating some of your own rations.

Looking around at the burned remains of her home for the second time in her life, Michaela simply took the opportunity to be thankful that this time, not only were there survivors, but it had not been her fault. She remembered the home of her parents, and the inferno that had claimed it was seared into her memory, never to fade. Closing her eyes, she remembered her father's temper, her brothers' taunts, and the rage the inflicted pain had ignited within her... the flames that had never died out completely, even after leaping from her hands, her eyes, her skin itself...

Opening her eyes again, Michaela tore a shred of dried meat from the strip she held in one fist, chewing it resentfully.

Like usual, Cyrus missed all the fun and games.  Kilgar was cool, and he was a real warrior's warrior, and something said he'd be back and in action.  He was an orc though, and orcs were prone to doing orc things, and well, orc things often included going off on a random, solo, killing spree.

Plopping down without any armor on, Cyrus had a few fresh lacerations on his back and a hearty expression on his face...yes, the priestess of Loviatar had made her favor known, and therefore, never one to miss an opportunity, the Priest of Talos had obligingly planted seeds in her garden.

Glancing at Michaela, Cyrus's lips hooked on the corner of the left side of his face into a smirk.  "Ahh.  The smell of an inferno.  Ashame I missed it, ja?"

Nerosella walks up to the now burnt out husk of the Blacklash Estate.  Damn, this was a good place to get information.  Good think I over heard that person talking about a job with some coinage. She thinks to herself, but lets out a short laugh despite herself. "haha." Cathing herself hopefully before anyone noticed.

Well the only one good thing about a burnt out building the next day are the people that like to stop and look.


[Private to DM Martin 22: Would like to attempt some pickpockets if it's alright.  Thought that might be a good why to really introduce her to the other party members.  :)  Man I think I'm going to have to mucj fun playing her.]
PM

PM

[Private to Nerisella Tarmikos: Go right ahead ;-)]

Nerisella looks around and sees two people at a table.  One of them just sitting down the other with a piece of jerky in her mouth. Nerisella starts walking over toward them.  As she gets closer Nerisella sees the look on the females face and desides to walk behind the female's chair and move off to the opposite side leaving a good amount of space between the couple and her.  She sits down on the ground looking at the people that pass by.

[Private to DM Martin 22: Nerisella walks up to the easiest looking target and with the speed only Mask could grant attempts to lift an item off them.
15:59, Today: Nerisella Tarmikos rolled 28 using 1d20+10. Sleight of Hand.]
This message was last edited by the player at 23:38, Sat 19 Aug 2006.

Stumbling about the wreckage Gordon pokes at smoking, charred wood with his boot toe as if seeking the glint of gold. With a grimace of disgust he turns from his work with a nervous walk and slowly paces what used to be the main floor.

Glancing occasionally at his companions, others who had been asked to "stick around", he seems to be keeping himself busy. A rip or two is noticeable in his tunice and the glint of metal shines from underneath.

After a short time pacing he walks over to the two seated at the table "I suppose it is best that you have a name for me, Gordon will do. I been waiting for work with Blacklash for several days, what about you all?"

"I'm sick of fire. Then again, the world can burn for all I care... Aw, fuck. Now where am I meant to go?" she realised that it wasn't just her home that had been destroyed. There was no thieves' guild to take her in this time. In a way, she'd gotten her freedom, though she'd rather it not have been at their expense. They were almost a family, after all... "Whatever. Least the boss survived. Guess he'll have a plan. Normally does." She paused a moment. "I'm rambling again. Anyway, I'm Michaela. I clean house for the boss. Well, used to, anyway."

Guildmaster Black appears suddenly, the old training kicking in as circumstances changed. He pulls up a charred chair and sat down.

A resigned look seemed to have settled on his face. He didn't look the same man who had talked to you the night before. Of course his home had just burned down so you've got to give him some allowances.

Ok you lot. Glad you've decided to stick around. I've decided to re-locate to Hillsfar on a permanent basis. I've already got a small base set up there and then enlarge my operations. What I need you to do for me is dangerous have no doubts but it'll make you a tidy profit and guarentee you a position in the Guild. A good position. He looks around to make sure he still has everyones attention.

The cost of setting up will be highly expensive in the short term. That and Hillsfar hates non-humans. Both are problems for me. I need a sweetener for the powers that be and I plan on giving them a spellbook. About three days ride from here is an old graveyard. The village its in has been abandoned for years and I doubt any relatives come calling. Once a Wizard named Zorcosh lived there. Lots of stuff he had, lots. But Zorcosh had a bit of a temper on him and so devised all sorts of nasty spells. Tried to become a Lich but failed. Tragic really.

That was two centuries ago. Most people have forgotten the place exists so thats why we're interested. Zorcosh's remains and stuff should still be there. Hopefully the wards will have worn down, but your a resourceful bunch, you'll figure that out. It's simple really get in, grab as much stuff as you can carry. You keep it. dont even tell me how you got it. But I want that book. On top of any treasure you keep I'll also give you a thousand gold each. What you say?

"Any idea what he left in the way of Guardians? I don't really deal well with golems. They don't burn well." Michaela shrugged. "Also, you sure you can get Kil and me into Hillsfar? We're both half-breed wretches. From what I heard, that's even worse than being an elf or an orc over there."

1000 gold!!  Nerisella thinks to herself turning slittly to get a view of the person talking.  But what can I really do?  I could follow them.....  I must stay close to these people.
[Private to DM Martin 22: I could follow them and take the book and give it to this guy. Talking about Guildmaster Black.   I did not want to finish because I did not want them to medagame.]

Gordon observes the others - they had made their introductions but there were no warm fellings as of yet. These guys and gals look like they can pull their weight at least. he nods as he thinks, an approving nod.

As the Guildmaster arrives and makes his offer Gordon's face goes stoney - an unreadable mask his eyes bland. It is a good starting mission. I think you will be pleased with my work Guildmaster.

After a pause, Anyone in these parts know anything more specific about this wiazards lair and what we can expect? We may need to buy some supplies.

[Private to DM Martin 22: Bluffing to keep a poker face and hid emy excitement over th epay and the possible loot - as well as the prominent guild position

Rolled a 14 on my Bluff]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:57, Thu 24 Aug 2006.

Black shrugs his shoulders, Its probably got some wards and traps. Nothing much is known about the defenses or else I wouldn't be interested. Dont do anything stupid and you'll most likely be fine.

As Michaela asks her question a faint smile crosses his lips, Thats part of the deal. The authority will turn a blind eye to who is in the guild. We have a way into and out of the city. Now if you want to go strolling through the streets, his smile widens, Well lets just say I'll put some money on you when your in the pits.

He stands up and dusts himself off.Theres little more I can tell you. A good trap man would be good to have most likely, thats really the only advice I can give you, having not been there myself.

As he turns he says, Michaela, follow me please. I've got something which may prove useful to you. and he walks away.

Clearing his throat a little Gordon gets Blacklash's attention, Sir about this mission and Hillsfar... he pauses.

I am not welcome in Hillsfar. A sensitive matter but one I felt needed mentioning.

Should we succeed in this would this 'blind eye' apply to me as well?

Black pauses a second and looks back at Gordon. You can be in the guild and be in Hillsfar. Same goes for you as the rest. If you dont look human and your on the streets, well you best not be seen or else not leave any witnesses. We'll be helping business, they like that enough to overlook you.

The Talesian warrior snorts a snort of disgust.  "I don't do undead." He leaves it at that.

"For me, boss?" She raised her eyebrows, surprised, and stood to follow her surrogate father, throwing a smirk at Cyrus. "In the guild, we do what we need to, priest. After all, you should know that fire cleanses all, bringing perfection to the more vile of impurities."

Well looks like they will be getting some supplies.  I need to make sure they don't loss me so that I can follow them.  I might have to steal a horse if these people are not traveling by foot.  Nerisella thinks to herself. I also need to see what this is.  It could be worth something.  As she touches the object in question.  [Private to DM Martin 22: the potion from Michaela]

After a short while, Michaela returns alone wearing a cloak. She stops by her table and grabs her backpack, settling it onto her shoulders before re-arranging the cloak over it. Perhaps it's just the cloak, but she seems somewhat more focussed now, with a more powerful presense. She turns to look at the others appraisingly.

"Well, if you're coming, you're coming. We need to head to the village and get supplies before we can go anywhere else."

Gordon nods in reply, <blue<>Agreed, let us be on our way. Hopefully this town will have something useful for us.</blue>

Cyrus looks a little more thoughtful then he, wait, he doesn't usually look thoughtful.  Cyrus ususally looks pretty pissed off and pretty hardcore - and the truth is, he's got to be hardcore, because he's got three, colored, lightning bolts tattoos on the front of his throat.

Anybody with tattoos on their throat is hardcore.  It's compiled together with the fact he is in fact, a priest of Talos, which means he's actually rather fanatical...  To put it mildly, having the psychotic cleric on your side is better then having him against your side.

Besides, you can guess he's probably a strong swimmer.  Talos is after all, a Storm, and subsequently a sea god.

But up to the present.  Cyrus looked thoughtful.  "I could use some silver, some more crossbow bolts, and a good club or warhammer, just in case."  He looks around.  "Anybody got gold left?  I know this guy who knows this guy who has a cousin who knows this dark elf that works for the Zhentarim.  He can get silver stuff."

OOC; If you want supplies send me a list. Nothing worth more than 500 gp. The only village on the way has small amounts of supplies.

I'll divide things if more than one person wants the items. Or you can get into a bidding war. I'm sure the village will take your gold.

Tomorrow I'll update the game and pass over the previous 3 days travel and get to the meat of this thing.

Everyone give me Spot and listen checks for each day.

If you want to do anything other than get supplies and travel PM me.

PM
[Private to DM Martin 22: Spot cks: You rolled 9 using 3d20 [ 1 , 5 , 3].]


[Private to DM Martin 22: Listen cks: You rolled 43 using 3d20 [17 , 9 , 17].]
This message was last edited by the player at 14:14, Wed 30 Aug 2006.

During the travelling time, Cyrus seems to observe irregular moments of worship to Talos, as was customary to those of the faith.  Elsewhile, to break the useless silence, he spouted off regular religous doctorine.  Sooner or later, somebody would fall to Stockholm Syndrome, if they kept listening to him...

OOC Spot 21, 7, & 6.  Listen was 16, 13, & 5. :P
This message was last edited by the player at 18:20, Tue 29 Aug 2006.

After buying travel supplies (eight days worth of rations for Michaela), she headed out with the others.

[Private to DM Martin 22:
19:37, Today: Michaela Lehava rolled 8 using 1d20+1. Spot (day 3).
19:36, Today: Michaela Lehava rolled 5 using 1d20+1. Spot (day 2).
19:36, Today: Michaela Lehava rolled 17 using 1d20+1. Spot (day 1).
19:35, Today: Michaela Lehava rolled 20 using 1d20+7. Listen (day 3).
19:35, Today: Michaela Lehava rolled 12 using 1d20+7. Listen (day 2).
19:35, Today: Michaela Lehava rolled 17 using 1d20+7. Listen (day 1)]

Well, apparently one little rogue girl wants to slink off and do her thing, which doesn't really bother Cyrus all that much (or interrupt his sporadic rants) until the first night, as the party is about to break down and camp, at which point, he backtracks and plops down next to her, looking over the horizon, down the hill at a farmhouse and barn, the one with a mother calling in the children and a well lit interior.

"Talos hasn't cursed me with your insatiable desire to hide and slink and sneak like you're special.  The Stormlord hasn't cursed me like he has you, and therefore, when I look at groups of travellers, or even..." The fanatical cleric points towards the farmhouse.  "Or even buildings like that.  Where you see an opportunity for riches, and a beautiful, wonderful structure, I see ways to destroy it." The evil man's lips curl into a snarl of glee. "I see ways to blow it up.  To break it.  To smash it.  And to tear it down... and just like the lone farm, when I see you, a pretty, young girl, out here all alone... I see ways to break you, and to blow you up, all in the name of Talos."

Cyrus gives her a heavy smack on the shoulder.  "I can show you Talos's way...and unless you're scared to see the path of destruction, the path of death, the way of annihilating our enemies - Cyrus's eyes are twinkling with sheer madness - you will enjoy it."

How did he?  Mask is this a cruel joke that you are playing or what?  I can't believe this... Nerisella thinks to herself.  What is the guy talking about break houses..  Just think of all the misfortune I can bring on those people by taking there money, prized cow, or even there children to sale into labor camps.  Just think about the money that would bring me.

When the crazed preist began talking about breaking her and blowing her up in the name of his crazed god.  Nerisella began to feel a little uneasy, but said under her breath, "greater men have tried."  However when said something about the "path of death" an eye brow raised. I have this fool priest now!! I know his weakness.

Please, could you tell me more?  As we walk back to your companions.  Nerisella said trying to show great interest in what the preist might say, while looking intently at him.

PM
[Private to DM Martin 22: 11:19, Today: Secret Roll: Nerisella Tarmikos rolled 13 using 1d20+8. appraise. (looking for something that might be worth anything.  11:18, Today: Secret Roll: Nerisella Tarmikos rolled 18 using 1d20+6. bluff.(trying to show great interest in what he is saying.)]
This message was last edited by the player at 16:22, Wed 30 Aug 2006.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow.  "Bahahahaha! Better men have tried.  That's funny.  I'm not a great man.  By the Abyss woman, I'm not even a good man! Bawahahaha!" After laughing, Cyrus planted his spear into the ground right next to him and withdrew a horn of some animal and unscrewed a cap on the end.  He took a swill of water, and dumped some on his head, took another drink, and then thrust the horn in Nerisella's direction.  "It's water." He said.

"What do you know of the Gods of Fury?"  He wasn't about to preach any serious dogma without making sure the subject knew a little something first, or course, which as a result, would clue in anybody of intelligence that Cyrus was very serious about this stuff, and that he wasn't merely spouting off dogma just to be some kind of hypocrit, or some nobody looking for an excuse to do evil.  Nope, he was real and real to the core.  Picking his spear out of the ground, Cyrus went with Nerissella back towards the group as a whole.

Nerisella takes the offered water and sniffs it before taking a small amount in her mouth.  To tell the truth I don't know much about them.  Nerisella hands the horn back to the priest.  By the way my name is Nerisella.  Hope to make a profitable friendship with you and the others.

Gordon is setting up camp for the night helping with the fire and dressing down tyhe horses as needed. While working he watches as Cyrus and the girl converse. The priest is overly brash and loud me thinks. Perhaps that can work into my favor. Let other be the target of attention I say... he laughs softly.

Looking around Gordon watches his other "new" companions and seeks to learn more about them through their actions and behaviors. A strange lot indeed. Kilgar would be simple enough but these folk will probably get me killed... Gordon muses to himself and grimaces at the last notion.

Finishing his work he wanders over near the fire but back from the light a bit. Sets his bedrool down and settles down munching on some bread and cheese and listening to the talk while scanning the surroundings.

At a pause in the conversation he interjhects, What of watch? Dark night is soon upon us, I offer to take first and last watch to help free the rest of you up for rest if you like. he smiles cunningly.

As soon as the words where out of the mans mouth Nerisella saysI'll take second.  She begins to walk toward Michaela and reaches into her cloak.Excuse me, but since we are going to traveling together I thought I might give this back to you.  You might want to keep a better hold on your equipment.  As she pulls a vial of potion and hands it to Michaela.


OOC:  Ok you can fast forward.   :)  Sorry Michaela I was going to introduce myself when I got caught stealing the potion.  But I rolled to high.

"Oh, feel free." She smirks at Narisella. "I wasn't going to ask for it back 'less I needed it anyway." she glances at Gordon, then.

"Very generous. However, there's enough of us that we don't need to stand double-watches. Feel free to take first, and you second, Narisella. I'll take third, then Cyrus can take fourth. We shouldn't need a fifth, since it's only a few hours." she carefully didn't mention the fact that Kilgar was... probably not the best choice for a watchman, considering.

Cyrus cocks his head and listens to the sound of rolling thunder in the not so distant, distance, nods upward twice, and speaks.  "Yes Lord, I'll tell them." The priest pokes his spear into the ground again and then clasps Michaela and Nerisella both on the shoulder, standing between them.  He's faced in Gordon's direction.  "The Stormbringer suggests we develope simple code words and silent hand gestures to indicate certain actions and reactions for the rest of the party." The priest removes his hands, balling his left hand up into a fist.  He raises it to shoulder level.  "Like this.  A balled up fist would be a silent signal for all of us to stop." He makes a fist next, with his thumb sticking up.  Then quickly he points it upside down towards the ground. "Or something like this to indicated enemy suspected."

Cyrus looks at the others carefully to determine what they think.  "It could be useful.  The Stormbringer has warned me that there are harpers in the area tracking the Zhentarim, and I know there are stories of paladins and a giant lizard roaming around."

This message was deleted by the player at 03:37, Tue 05 Sept 2006.