The rickety cart dropped into a pig-wallow sized hole in the narrow road, causing the pretty passenger to jar her teeth hard enough to bite her tongue. As the tired horse strained his worn out harness which hugged his prominent bones to pull the cart forward, she realized by verification of smell, that it indeed was a pig-wallow. She sucked the blood from her hurt tongue and tried in vain to get comfortable among the half-rotten potatoes the farmer, driving the cart, was hauling. He'd been heading her way... looked safe enough, so she hopped aboard after he'd given her a sleepy twice-over. It had already been a week, maybe more, since she'd been able to bathe, and her clothes stuck to her in the summer evening heat.  She wiggled against a large potato that was poking her lower back and tried to anticipate when the next huge bump would come along.

The farmer hadn't been really very talkative so far in the last couple hours they'd been traveling. At one point he'd reached back and handed her a small disk of dried meat to gnaw on, but had talked more to the elderly horse than to her. It came as a surprise when he finally asked her name in a slow drawl, which was evidence that the slow, boring pace was getting to him like it had her in the first five minutes.

"What's yer name Miss? Most folks call me Fig, but me mam, she named be Bill, Bill Figgins." The way he said it almost sounded like he kept it up on a shelf and only took it down for special occasions. Perhaps a cart ride through smelly pig-wallows was special to the gnarled oldster.


The Usher tips his hood: Welcome to Lya, the newest member of our Cast! Poor girl's gotten herself out of the pan and into the fire...
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:07, Wed 02 July 2014.

Lya sighed as she watched the countryside jiggle, jounce, and jar slowly past the wagon. Determined not to spend another minute allowing half rotten potatoes further opportunities to bruise her, Lya gave the farmer a winsome smile and answered his question, "Well Fig, my name is Lya." Letting her cheeks dimple she continued in a throaty voice, "Fig? Do you think you might allow me to sit up there next to you? I'm not all that wide. See?" Lya ran her hands down her sides to illustrate her point. Fanning the damp fabric of her blouse she said with faux anxiety, "It might be a little tight for the both of us but I wouldn't mind it if you didn't mind...me being right up next to you I mean." Watching Fig closely she tried to gauge the effect her approach has had on the farmer. Hopefully she hasn't been too forward. No point in embarrassing or antagonizing the man. "We could talk as we go along. It would help pass the time. You could tell me stories about things you've heard and I could tell you about my...about ones I've heard - though some of them may shock you."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:02, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

The look on the poor farmer's face told Lya that she already had shocked the man! He stammered and gulped and his weathered face turned crimson. He faced the dilapidated old horse and focused on the road ahead, clamming up so quickly that he might never speak again...

Then he stopped the cart.

His hands fumbled with the reins a bit and then he mutter-stammered over his shoulder. "Alright, c-come on up..." His newest gulp was audible. Enchantment can take on many forms in the world. Poor Bill Figgins had just fallen under one of them.

Her objective achieved Lya decided to alter her approach a bit. Giving Fig a friendly, almost sisterly smile, she stood up with a sigh of relief and stepped carefully as she made her way to the front of the cart. No need for seductive movements now. In fact at this point they could have the opposite effect on the man from what she intended. Moving carefully she stepped over the panel of the cart and, swinging herself up in as unseductive a movement as she could manage, Lya sat herself down next to Fig, being sure to make no physical contact with the farmer while at the same time making it not appear as though she were avoiding his touch.

Giving Fig a grateful glance she said in a cheerful voice, "Thank you! This is much better! Now...let's see..." Lya paused as though thinking, then continued, "I'd love to hear anything of interest that's been going on. I'm sure there must be all sorts of fun things that people tell you. I have to say, I love listening to gossip and rumors and news! So. What's been happening?"

Lya then looked forward, leaned back companionably with her elbows on the backrest, and propped a booted foot up on the front panel of the cart, waiting to hear what Fig had to say, making her posture look for all the world like she was born and raised in the country, had a piece of straw between her lips, and a straw hat tilted back on her head.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:06, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

The big man moved over as far as he was able, any more and he would be walking along side of the cart instead of driving it. After a few moments he seemed to relax just a little as the enchantress changed her presentation. Poor Bill Figgins.

She was speaking now, asking him something, and he replied with the first an only thing that came to mind, for not much happened in a farmer's life that a traveler like her would want to know anything about...

"The crops ain't growin' very well this summer. These spuds be fer me hogs back home. They ain't got much forage left, an' I picked these up cheap... Nobody's ever seen anythin' like this year. Everthin' should be fine, good weather, not too hot, plenty a'rain... Some crops is already maturin'! It's like the plants think fall and winter be comin' early! I hope that don't be the case..." He made some sort of warding sign with his thick, meaty farmer's hand.

With Lya's encouragement, Fig kept talking as the afternoon dragged on and the road moved slowly from under the worn-out horse and beneath the potato cart. "...that miller's son, the little red-headed brat, claims he found a cave fulla glowin' crystals! Little runt be always makin' up stories. Heh. Claims now he can't find his way back! Ha! Serves that miller right, lettin' that sour-patch run wild like he does..."

"That crazy wida-woman that goes wanderin' out by the Leapin' Cliffs said she seen a ship disappear right into the rocks! 'Course she's been seein' strange things fer years out there..."

"An adventurer came through the area a while back asking about "Margamord"... Nobody knew nothin' about it, but he ended up headin' up the coast to the Northeast..."

Fig had warmed up a bit and now that he'd let down his wall, he was actually a garrulous sort, always talking with that sleepy drawl. That changed suddenly when up ahead came another approaching wagon. Fig glanced around helplessly as if debating whether to go leaping beneath his cart of potatoes... His face blushed red as the wagon approached his cart. They were both pulled by tired horses and Fig's just twitched an ear. The other horse gave a weary snort and that was their salutations. The driver of the wagon was a tall skinny fellow, another farmer by the looks of him. He gawked at poor Bill Figgins and nearly forgot to wave. Fig returned the gesture weakly and tried to just stare straight ahead as he passed the neighbor.

As the carts started to pass each other Lya took in Fig's flaming face and that of the skinny farmer gawking at him. Giving her benefactor a wink only he could see she said in a low voice, "Come along now Fig. It's not neighborly to drive on past without introducing us so why don't you just stop the cart for a moment? Won't take long and both your horse and his could use a rest. I won't embarrass you and I might even be able to spare your reputation some."

Resting her hand quickly on Fig's back in as unfamiliar a way as possible she stepped smoothly around him, hopped down with lithe grace onto the road, and looked up at the skinny stranger, giving the man a broad friendly smile.

"Hi there! I'm Lya and who might you be? Master Figgins here has kindly allowed me to ride with him for a short ways and it's very pleased I am to make your acquaintance also!" she said with a show of dimples and a wave of her hand that included the farmer behind her.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:11, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Fig barely twitched in the reverse and the old horse stopped in its tracks. He hadn't really had much choice in the matter because the pretty girl was bounding down to meet the newcomer. The horses both fell into a dazed sleep-state that animals are able to slip into almost at will.

The skinny farmer's expression changed from one of shock and scandal to one of shock and surprise when the enchantress suddenly came in his direction. Fig shrugged his shoulders. "This here's Gurt," he said tentatively, "Gurt, this is... erm... Lya. I was... just... givin' her a ride..." But Gurt wasn't listening to his neighbor's excuses, his attention was elsewhere.

Gurt smiled shyly and shot Fig a panicked glance. His prominent Adam's Apple bobbed up an down as he swallowed loudly. "Uh, hullo, uh... Miss Lya. I be Wheatfeld, G-Gurt Wheatfeld..."

The dimples and hair and graceful movements had taken their toll on another victim. Poor Gurt Wheatfeld.

Lya smiled, giving Gurt a knowing look that promised inclusion in her special circle of friends, a promise sealed with a slow wink for him and him alone, a split moment in time akin to a drop of rain as it finally falls after gathering itself with infinite anticipation.

"So." she asked, placing her hand on Fig's knee, including him in the moment, "Do either of you fine men know where a girl might find an Inn to spend the night and a bite of something tasty to sup? A place where a girl might quaff a mug or two before a roaring fire with friends hearty as yourselves?"

The sun still shone and the birds still chirped but it was as if, for an instant in time, a veil of Lya's own making separated the three from the world about.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:28, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

The two farmers looked at each other. The instincts of both men were to run for their lives, but they were acting as if under a spell. Gurt just stammered, his neck bobbing, and he pointed first one direction and then the other. Fig was more accustomed to the enchantment, but not by much, he pointed down the road in the direction they were going. "Baltor's Halfway Camp be just over the hill a bit Miss Lya. There ain't an Inn, but you could get a tent and a bath..." Gulp. Gulp.

Since there was no fight left in Poor Gurt Wheatfeld, he allowed flight to take over. The sleepy-eyed horse jolted forward as if stung by a giant rock-ant and the rickety wagon squeaked and creaked down the road to the northwest, the direction that Fig and Lya had come... Gurt almost broke his neck watching Lya fade into the distance over his shoulder.

OOC:
And now that a map is up, you can actually find where you're at! Disregard the "Current Location" dot... That's not for you, that's for the rest of the companions in Chapter 3.

"Well." said Lya a bit ruefully as she watched Gurt Wheatfeld's cart dwindle in the distance. Shaking her head she looked up at Fig and asked, "A tent camp? That's all that's around these parts? Is there no city here-abouts? No town? No village? Surely you and Gurt and the other farmers of the area sell your farm goods somewhere. No?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:30, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Fig shrugged helplessly from his seat on the cart. "There be Hogship to the south, but it's a fair ways off, and... uh... I wasn't plannin' on goin' that far... Me place is just past the Halfway Camp...  There's Falport, but it's several days away, and through the mountains. Where were you headed anyway Miss Lya?"

Just then there arose the sound of a crashing wagon and a muffled scream, as Gurt had wrecked going up a lazy switchback on the next hill away from them. He was still trying to catch a glimpse of Lya, partially for his own sake and partially for the curiosity of a scandal. The sounds of his cursing drifted in their direction as he began to untangle his mess.

"Oh. My." sighed Lya at the sounds of mishap in the distance. "Well I guess there's nothing for it but to see what can be done to help." Looking up at Fig she extended her hand for him to help her up.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:33, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Fig took the young woman's hand and helped her up, still very uncomfortable with her proximity and lack of defined personal space, but better at least than he had been earlier. "Aye, let's go help the skinny fool," he chortled. He expertly turned the cart about, needing to encourage the old horse quite a bit, for the creature was near enough to home now to almost smell the oats and hay.

Gurt was bright red with embarrassment, and he was heaving on his wagon. "Thanks Fig, Miss Lya," he said gratefully. Even though he felt thoroughly shamed, he would have been hard pressed to right the wagon himself. Fig retrieved a pole and looked around for a decent sized boulder for a fulcrum.

Lya smiled at Gurt and said, "Sure!" Looking around she finds a good place to help shove the cart over when Fig tells her too.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:34, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

It does not take long for Lya to locate a rock large enough for a fulcrum and while she and poor ol' Figgins arrange to leverage the wagon, Gurt did his best to hitch his horse short on one side to do most of the pulling. His neck was on a swivel and there was a certain jealous look in his eye from time to time at his neighbor who got to work so near to the pretty lady.

"Alright Gurt, we be ready!" Fig said as he braced against the pole. Gurt clicked at his tired old horse and with a sigh the critter began straining against the harness. With a creak of wood and iron, the wagon was uprighted after some heaves and ho's...

Gurt smiled and thanked them both, but especially Lya, gushing praise with more words than he'd used in over a month. He then re-hitched his horse. Fig began towards his own tired horse when he suddenly stopped and looked back up the road to the northwest. Gurt paused to, standing upright and glancing at Fig. Both seemed to have noticed something out of the ordinary.


OOC: Let's see if Lya notices...
Let's roll WIS vs Target Number 16. Feel free to add your modifier (doh!)

Lya blinks as Gurt's wagon rights itself with a rattle and resounding CRASH. Sighing in relief that the wagon has been righted and Gurt hasn't been hurt Lya fails to notice her road companions staring into the distance.

Lya wisdom check: 4 using 1d20-1.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:36, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

"Quickly Miss Lya," urged Fig. "Please get in the cart. We must be gettin' out of here, quickly." He bounded toward his tired horse, which was enough to awaken the animal. It's ears went up and flickered forward and back.

Gurt moved quickly as well. "Thanks much Miss Lya! Go with Fig, he'll keep ya safe!" Gurt boarded up as his now alert horse pranced a little as he made ready. When ready, Gurt snapped his reins, waved a hasty thank you to his distant neighbor and turned toward the northeast, taking a little used road which circled back toward the mountains.

"Come Miss, quickly now!" urged Fig.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:58, Sun 13 July 2014.

With a puzzled look on her face Lya bounded up on the cart and took her seat next to Fig. "Fig? What's got into you and Gurt? Keep me safe? Safe from what? What did Gurt mean?"

Lya looked about her, trying to see whatever it was that had put the fear of...something...into the farmers.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:38, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Whatever had spooked the two farmers seemed to have also dispelled a bit of Lya's enchantment over them. Fig worked the reins and his suddenly rejuvenated old horse pulled on the cart as they made their way towards the Halfway Camp. Every once in a while Fig would look back over his shoulder at the road behind them.

"Miss Lya, did you not hear it? It be a sound you'd never forget if'n you had! There's been a critter... a monster, attackin' folks along the roads. It ain't been heard of in a long while, and most of us thought it had long gone. Gurt and me, we heard it when we was kids! No, I'll never forget that sound!"

He gave the reins a smart rap on the horse's rump, encouraging a bit more speed.

"There be some fightin' men stationed at the Camp. They need to know about this!"

"Sorry Fig. Guess I'm deaf. But certainly, if it's something both you and Gurt heard and say is dangerous then, by all means, let someone know."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:42, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Fig slapped the reins again in answer to Lya's suggestion. The old horse clopped ahead, at a rate several times faster than it had been going through the hog wallows and dirt road when Lya first climbed aboard. It was not too long before the rounded a slight bend and saw what must be the Halfway Camp which Fig has spoken of earlier.

The camp was nestled in a valley between sharp rocky peaks which rose up to the northeast and southeast. To the west lay fields which were well tended and weed-free. It was obvious the farmers of the region took great pride in their practices. Just to the west of the camp ran a river, narrow but deep and cool. The farmers had many ingenious methods of extracting water from the river to deliver to their crops. The road they were on came to an intersection in the middle of the camp with one road branching into the mountains to the northeast and the other following the river to the southwest.

On the far side of the intersection was the only real structure. It was made of wooden logs stacked hastily with little thought given to fit. The spaces between were filled with clay, some places needed serious repairs. Out front was a hitching post. Along the sides of the roads were many large tents, some made of heavy woven cloth, others from tanned animal hides. It was plain to see that this 'camp' was quickly growing into a town, but lacked much in the way of anything very permanent.

As Fig's wagon creaked up to the intersection, several men performing various tasks waved his way. One look at his passenger and almost all activity within the camp ground to a quick halt. There were a few whistles and knowing laughs at old Fig's expense, which caused his already ruddy complexion to deepen to near crimson.

Leaning against a dubious looking support pole was a man dressed in rather pathetic armor which had been polished to a sheen in an attempt to make it look much more impressive that it was. He wore an equally gaudy longsword at his hip. His face was adorned with a long, thick mustache, which he'd spent the better part of the morning sculpting just so. He ignored Fig entirely and fixed his gaze upon Lya. He looked her over brazenly with a sickening smile stretching his mustachioed lips.

"My Love, Yer just in time! Couldn't wait to see me, is that it?" He laughed at his own wit as he thrust his hip with the sword forward a little. "Why don't you hop on down here so we can have a look at ya. I bet you're pretty tired of riding an old tater cart. Don't worry, we'll take care of ya..." He reached up and smoothed his oiled mustache hungrily.

Several of the workmen in the camp looked in the direction of the armored man and gasped jealously. It didn't seem like they held him in too high regard. He did well enough on that account for himself.

Leaning close to Fig and keeping her voice down so the mustached man couldn't hear her Lya asked, "Do you know that man?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:48, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Fig had already dismounted from the cart and was working to get something from under his rickety seat. He glanced at the armor-clad man who stood stroking his mustache, and replied quietly back to Lya. "Aye. That's Urlor the "Bold", he be Baltor's youngest brother. He fancies hisself as a fighting man, but most of those he's killed seem to have died from being stabbed in the back. Stay near me Miss Lya and just ignore him."

Lya smiled gratefully at the farmer and said, "You're a good man Fig. I'm glad we've met." Lya jumped down from the cart and stood to one side and a little behind the man she regarded as a new friend so she could watch his back if necessary.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:52, Thu 17 July 2014.

Poor Bill Figgins's ears flushed a little at the compliment as he finally managed to retrieve the bundle he'd been working at. "Thanks.. uh... Miss Lya," he mumbled.

With bundle in hand, he turned and made his way up to the weathered wood porch of the largest tent, and rang a small bell. Urlor continued to evaluate Lya's every movement and his dark glittered dangerously in the shade of the awning, like those of a viper under a rock. "Why don't you come chat with me a bit while yer grandpa there does his business?" he asked, pointing the barb at Fig.

Fig just ignored him and rang the bell again.

"He might be standin' there all evening ringin' that bell... you and I could get to know each other a little better..." Urlor pushed off from the post he'd been leaning on and took a swaggering step or two toward Lya, as if approaching a young filly and making ready in case she tried to bolt.

Fig rang the bell once more, harder this time. Still no response.

Lya whispers quickly to Fig, "I have this." Turning to the bravo she hooks her thumbs in her belt, close to her daggers, and gives him a seductive smile that taunts and disparages at the same time. "So. You want me. Is that it?" Lya steps slowly down the stairs, her hips seeming to move independently from the rest of her. "You want this. Yes?" With a motion of her hand she indicates the lush curves of her body. Reaching the bottom of the steps she slowly saunters toward the uncouth churl, "What..." she asks as she whips a dagger from it's sheath, setting the tip on the slime's belly, "...makes you think this bauble comes without a blade?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:01, Fri 18 July 2014.

The hungry smile faded from the corners of Urlor's mouth beneath the well-groomed mustache. His dark eyes widened, then flashed, then softened again into that sickening gaze. The smile returned but with a slight curl to the corner of the top lip.

"Oooh... Easy now! You seem to be like a lot of plants and... animals... around these parts - nice to look at, but dangerous to touch! Don't get yer hackles up, the Bold won't hurt ya." Something deep in his eyes spoke otherwise.

Fig had stopped knocking on the door and turned in shock to see Lya confront the fighting-man. His mouth opened, but nothing came out for a moment. He stepped just beside and a little back of the woman and placed a trembling hand on her shoulder. "Come Miss Lya, he don't mean nothin'." Fig traded glances with Urlor.

As the scene unfolded, several of the men in the camp within eye or ear-shot began to gravitate toward the porch. It did not take much to distract these hard men from the drudgery of their daily lives so a confrontation between a beautiful newcomer and the camp bully was almost magnetic.

"No Fig. Get Baltor. He needs to know what's happening here. Unless I miss my guess you respect that one. This one, on the other hand, needs to have his actions brought to light. Now Fig." Lya said a note of command in her voice. Keeping her gaze on the bully's sternum so she could see the least movement start on his part Lya kept her dagger firmly against his belly.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:52, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

The tip of the dagger was placed expertly just beneath the shoddy, but well burnished, bronze breastplate worn by the "Bold". She could feel it if he tensed and he knew it, so Urlor tried not to move too quickly lest he spook the curvy filly. His eyes held hers for a long while as if gauging her resolve before they flickered around to the gathering crowd.


Urlor began to chuckle deep in his belly. Lya felt the dagger pulse with his laughter as it grew.

"That's just it my lovely, Baltor ain't here! Neither are my other brothers. Fig, why don't you go back to bangin' on that door. You see, you arrived just on the day that I'm in charge of the camp... which means I won't need to ask anyone's permission or even think about sharing..."

"Miss Lya..." Fig started to say when Urlor made his play.

~~~~

OOC: Oh it's on! Since you had the dagger at the ready, Lya, roll damage if you decide to go through with your threat, if not please make a Dex check with an additional +2 for Fig pulling you out of the way, TN 9. [Urlor the Bold, rolled 9 using 1d20+1 ((8)).] Or if you decide to take some other action let me know...

"Share is it!" snarled Lya in as loud a voice as possible. Shouting she continued, "Rape you mean! The only thing I'll share with you is this blade!" So saying Lya thrusts her dagger into the bowels of the camp bully, twisting it as she plunges it into him. Not waiting for a response she grabs at his face with her hand, attempting to push him backward onto the ground and straddle him when he is down, her dagger at his throat.

Lya dagger damage: 3 using 1d4.

~~~~

OOC: Lya is hoping to sway the men looking on to her cause by stating as loudly as possible exactly why she is stabbing the camp bully. Hopefully bringing them to her side because, historically, the man is a bully, because some suspect him of backstabbing others, and now, as a catalyst, he is trying to rape a woman.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:53, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

It had been a long while since anyone had stood up to Urlor the "Bold", especially among those who worked or passed through Baltor's Halfway Camp. Now it was a beautiful woman who arrived with a farmer in a potato cart that would be the one to do so. There was a cry of shock among those looking on as Urlor twisted his torso and tried to disarm the woman. She had not flinched, and she had not been bluffing. Her blade came away red.

Not wasting any time she surged forward, raking at Urlor's face. He staggered backwards in shock, pain and then anger. When they went to the ground he roared defiantly. Lya tried to get her blade to his throat, but he caught her hand just in time. As she pushed her weight into it, he tried to push it aside. The sharp, but small, weapon scraped across his cheek and in doing so sliced off a large portion of his mustache. This seemed to only anger him more.

The "Bold" was a lot of show and attitude, but he had been in his share of scuffles. He was also much stronger than Lya, and bigger. Hands locked together on the blade, Urlor arched his back and rolled them both off the porch. He landed on top of her and with his greater weight, pressed her dagger back toward her. They struggled a bit, frightening the old horse which then shied backwards against the potato cart.

[STR check, grapple Lya - Urlor the Bold, rolled 16 using 1d20+2 ((14)).]

Suddenly, Urlor experienced the sensation for himself of being struck from behind by a powerful blow. He crumpled to the side, but still had the sense to roll up to his feet. Like any bully when confronted with opposition, he had two choices: back down and get away, or raise the level of threat. His pride chose the latter. He pulled the sword from its scabbard and brandished it before him, one-handed, to keep Lya at bay. His other hand clutched at his bleeding stomach. He now noticed the source of his blind attack, for the middle-aged farmer, Bill Figgins was standing slightly in front of the pretty woman.

Fig had no weapon, but brandished his fists which were the size of small boulders and just as hard. Years of hard farm labor had caused his shoulders, arms and hands to grow powerful from constant use and tough work. He normally wore an expression just slightly more alert than that of his old horse, but now his eyes were wide and his face was flushed with red.

"Bad idea Fig! You shoulda let me have her!" Urlor spat.

OOC: Let's roll initiative now. Go ahead and post your next round as well please.
[Urlor the Bold, rolled 3 using 1d6+1 ((2)).]
[Bill Figgins, rolled 1 using 1d6-1 ((2)).]

Lya glanced around as she dropped her dagger where Fig might reach it, whipped her short sword from it's sheath at her back, then sighed to herself at the lack of response from the cowards who called themselves men, all except for Fig who'd attacked the overgrown piece of cow turd with only his fists for her sake. Leaping forward Lya, with no real hope of landing a significant blow except that the bully should be a bit slowed and doubled over by the searing pain in his guts and trying to hold said tripes inside himself, shot past the unarmed Fig and swung for all she was worth.

Lya Initiative: 3 using 1d6+1.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:39, Tue 22 July 2014.

At nearly the same time Lya rushed forward with her sword, Urlor attempted to lunge toward Fig with the tip of his own weapon. He still had underestimated the beautiful rogue.

[Attack roll: Urlor the Bold, rolled 12 using 1d20+3 ((9)).]
[Damage roll: Urlor the Bold, rolled 4 using 1d6+3 ((1)).]

Urlor's blade plunged into Fig's shoulder as the not-so-nimble farmer tried to dodge. There was no armor to stand in the way of the "Bold's" gaudy, but effective blade. Fig was not trained in combat. He had never really been in anything more than a rambunctious scramble as a youth, and now he'd just been stabbed! His reaction was one which the more experienced man would have never guessed. Fig clutched at Urlor's sword with his big, meaty paw... and held onto it! This gave Lya the opening she needed.

Go ahead and make your attack roll please, and take a +4 to hit for Fig's actions as a bonus... Urlor's AC is 15.

Lya connects with her short sword, hitting her opponent.

Lya Attack Roll: 17 using 1d20+6.
Lya Damage Roll: 4 using 1d6.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:57, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Lya's slice was swift and sure, taking the advantage offered her by the kind-hearted and very brave farmer, Bill Figgins. The tip of her shortsword sliced just upward of Urlor's polished gauntlet and beneath his pauldron. The remainder of the stroke sliced across his cheekbone and nose, laying them both open. Urlor screamed in pain and fell backwards with his hands clutching at his bleeding face.

"Yield! YIELD!" he shrieked, trying to push himself back into the dusty street and away from the rogue. The camp bully had met his match and was now falling back to his first option, hoping it still remained. In his eyes was the look all bullies get when they are bested: Fear and Panic.

Fig dropped the fancy sword to the ground and clutched his deeply cut hand to his chest. His other hand clutched at the penetration in the shoulder on the same side as his damaged hand. All around the action were hardened men standing and gaping at what had just happened. Some had crossed arms, others wore slack jaws, others glanced around to see what their cohorts might be thinking. No one said a word, but within a few heartbeats, they were all looking at Lya, waiting to see what might unfold next in a day that had started out mundane and ordinary.

Lya, knowing full well that a bully's fear soon turned to hatred and thoughts of revenge when the threat of death was gone, wasted no time but quickly straddled the prone man, sitting on his chest and holding the edge of her short sword across his neck.

"Yield is it?" she hissed venomously. "The way you'd have me yield to you perhaps?". Looking up she took in the gaze of all those around and demanded, "Can any of you give me good reason why I shouldn't take this scum's head as my due?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:59, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Fear and panic turned to true terror in Urlor's eyes as Lya mounted his chest and bladed his throat. He held his hands to the side, pleading her not to kill him. When she queried on behalf of the man's life, all was silent. The circle of men standing around did not move, they did not say anything, only watched.

"Please," Urlor begged, and then looked frantically around at the men, searching for one who would speak on his behalf. "Jasper? Benz? ... Duggan? ... Don't let her kill me!"

It seemed as if the days of the camp bully had come to an end, for those gathered around now, perhaps just shy of two score in total, were tight-lipped either due to their own hatred of Urlor, nervousness of how his brothers would react, or still in shock at what they were seeing. There were still many glances between them as if silently taking stock, or even a vote, as to who was going to be on who's side and what kind of story they were going to tell...

Finally, a voice spoke up. It was a voice just behind her. It was the voice of Poor Bill Figgins...

"Miss Lya," he said quietly, "don't. Please don't kill him. You've taught him a lesson. He won't bother ya again. Let Baltor handle'im..."

The wounded bully's eyes widened a bit as Fig began to speak. Mercy? At the last comment, Urlor's level of anxiety raised to a whole new level.

"Gah! I can't believe I'm going to do this." Lya swore. Keeping the blade at the terrified pool of dung's throat she turned and looked at Fig. "You sure Fig? Baltor won't just let him go? I'm not seeing a lot of honor around here." she asked the farmer in a low voice.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:06, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Fig clutched his wounds as he considered Lya's question. The man's long years of hard work seemed to have all accumulated in accentuating the wrinkles and worry lines on his wide leathery face. His eyebrows, like his thinning hair were touched with gray and suddenly poor Bill Figgins looked much older than he had during their travels on the potato cart. He finally nodded his head.

"Yes Miss Lya, Baltor will handle him. Especially if he left Urlor in charge. There's a bit of good in every man, even that one. I say let mercy root it out... Come Miss Lya, let'im be..."

The bleeding Urlor glanced over at his unlikely savior and then back to Lya, he gulped at the blade pressed against his throat, but said nothing. The other men were all quiet as well, in fact the entire Halfway Camp seemed to be holding its breath, waiting to see if Lya would rid the world of a vermin, or show mercy on the behest of a kind-hearted farmer.

Lya sighed. This mercy of Fig's was going to get her killed but...she owed him. Blissful thoughts of beheading the pig turd beneath her ran around with thoughts of taking an eye or perhaps demanding a purse full of gold every time she saw him from now and forever into the future. Lya sighed again and regretfully pulled her sword slowly away from the throat of the garbage it had rested against. Wiping it off on his clothes til it was nice and shiny she sheathed it and got up. Backing up she moved to where her dagger was and, keeping her eyes on the filth in the dirt, picked it up, flicked the blood off it and, keeping it in her hand, looked around at the men gawking at her. "Well? Who's going to help Fig here?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:06, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

The men stood in a large circle, nearly surrounding Lya and Fig. They did not move at her question, they just continued to stare and gape. Finally the spell of the situation was dissipated when it was replaced by a new spell, cast by a beautiful rogue bearing a dagger.

Instantly they all moved at once! They each jetted off in different directions eager to be the first to assist Lya. Jasper and Benz even smacked into each other so hard they both fell backwards on the ground unconscious. The Halfway Camp which had grown eerily silent during the skirmish was now abuzz with activity.

There was only one man, skinny with dark eyes, who dared to kneel down beside the wounded Urlor and help him. Lya assumed it was Duggan, one of the men Urlor had implored for aid. He helped the fighting-man to his feet and they made their way down the street to a tent. Duggan shot Lya a dark look just before disappearing beneath the canvas flap.

A few moments later, Lya heard singing. It was terrible singing, and the words made little sense. Around a nearby tent a round-bellied man drunkenly sauntered in her direction with another miner which had been among the crowd and had raced off to find help.

"... turned the hopsh'n'barley into gold ...
... shuch a *hic* lovely crop da-na-na ..."

The bleary eyed man was brought to Lya. "Well, well! Jush the pershun I'sh lookin' for... C-come to be my a-shish... ash-ish, *hic* ashishtant!" He nodded his head stupidly at Lya.

"M-miss, this is Hecl the Healer. H-he can h-help Fig." the man stammered.

Hecl's puffy face screwed-up and he shook his bobble-y head. "Fix'im? Nah... We'll jusht *hic* put'im down... Hahaha!" His veined and bulbous nose twitched, totally giving away the joke...

"Hecl you look like you could use some sobering up first." Lya frowned, crossing her arms.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:12, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Hecl raised his hands as if trying to wipe the thought from Lya's mind. "Don't worry Mishy, I'm fiiiine. Now letsh have a look. Na-da-da-da-dooo..." The rotund and very drunk old cleric staggered over to stand before the potato cart. He rubbed his stubbly chin as he considered Fig's tired old horse. "Hmmm... Maybe we should put'im down..."


OOC: A successful IQ check (TN 12) could garner you a bit more insight into Hecl...
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:18, Sat 26 July 2014.

Lya looked over at Fig and said, "It's up to you since you're the one he's healing. For my part I wouldn't but..."

Lya INT check: 3 using 1d20+1.

Fig grimaced a bit and began to look very, very pale. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow and it looked as if he might faint. He wasn't bleeding terribly, but for someone not used to fighting and confrontations, poor Bill Figgins was doing his best to stay tough. Hecl turned to ask some question about the old horse he assumed was the patient, and noticed right away, even through the fog of drink that Fig was about to collapse. He pointed a finger and tried to get his rounded body moving in the farmer's direction. "Da-da-na-ooo-oooo! Not *hic* so goooood..."

The miner who had gone to fetch Hecl the Healer grabbed ahold of Fig and just as Hecl got there, they all collapsed together on the steps of the porch. Hecl grinned stupidly as if it were all planned and graceful. The he cocked his eye and asked Fig, right up in his face, "What'sh hapned, hap-neded, happen-ed to you anywaysh? You're leakin'! Hahahaha!"

Hecl held up his hands to Lya, "Don't fret, Nooo-da-na-hopsh'n'barley... I'm a cleric!" He whispered the last as he nodded, then began a serious attempt to wink, but could not really coordinate both eyes to make it very convincing.

Fig gave Lya a helpless look as his grip on consciousness was requiring every bit of effort he could muster.

Hecl put one hand over Fig's wound and then wrapped his fat arm around the farmer's broad shoulders and pulled him in close. "Thish ish gonna shting *hic* jusht a little... Do-dooo-naaa-da-da! But you'll be good ash new... ash new! Ya know why? 'Caushe I'm a cleric and I looove you..." Hecl the Healer patted the wound a little, evoking a grunt of pain from the farmer and then two large tears rolled down his cheeks as he began to chant. "Doo-na barly'n'hopsh *hic* golden treasure brought to we... Kollian pleashe blesh thish Da-naaa-nooo, got holesh in'im don'tcha know! Ha-hahaha! *hic*"

Then the drunken singing stopped momentarily and a look of serenity came over Hecl. There were no lights nor thunderclaps nor astral choir music, but the pain instantly faded from Fig's face. Hecl's moment of sobriety ended and he pulled his hand away with that silly grin still splitting his face. Fig's wound was gone!

The heavy-set farmer opened his massive paw-like hand to reveal the deep gashes which had surely been all the way to the bone, were now perfectly healed as well. Fig was wide eyed and patted the drunken cleric on the knee. Hecl still had his arm around Fig and squeezed him tightly.

"Yesh, yesh, miracle *hic* Nooo-da-naaa! I picked me a goodly God who makesh hopsh'n'barley grow!" Hecl heaved himself up to his feet, wobbled dangerously, but was somehow able to defy gravity and remain standing. "Now if you'll excuuuushe me, I shall go back to my clerical *hic* shtudiesh..." He attempted one more round of winks in Lya's direction before attempting a bear hug on her and then saunter-ggering back the direction he'd come. He did mention over his shoulder however, "Shtill have an ash-shishtishant poshition if ya deshide healin'sh fer you Mishy... Naaa-no-daa-dooo!"

Several of the other miners and camp personnel had now returned with all sorts of kindly offers for Lya and Fig. Places to stay, food to eat, and entertainment. They were all bending over backwards to please and impress the lovely rogue.

Bill Figgins moved his arm and flexed his hand, bewilderment plastered all over his face. He stood up and walked around a bit as if trying to convince himself he was not dreaming all of this. Finally, the decades of practicality returned to the surface as he surveyed the heavens. The sun was getting very low in the sky now.

"Miss Lya, thank you fer that. I'm so sorry I brung ya here. We shoulda just kept on goin' and not stopped. I just figured that Baltor ought to know..." Fig paused a little, uncertain. "Anyway, you're welcome to come along with me, home's not far off now and I've got chores awaitin' and me family to see. Yer welcome to stay the night. The road goes on to Hogship by my place, maybe you can get another ride in the mornin' if ya plan to head that way...?"

Lya beamed at Fig, "That would be wonderful Fig! I can't imagine being stuck in this place. I'm sure I could make my way to Hogship from your place. Someone here can let Baltor know what's happening." Getting up from where she had been sitting next to Fig on the steps she stretched languorously before turning her gaze to the men standing close by.
Stepping slowly down the stairs she said, "I would take it kindly, should you really want to help me that is, if you would do something about that oaf that wanted to rape me. Him and his lackeys." As she spoke she moved among them, weaving through the bystanders and around each man, seeming somehow to touch or brush by each one briefly all the while holding their gaze with her own, a smile playing around the corners of her lips.
"Nothing permanent of course. Just teach them some manners. I suspect I'll be through here again sometime and I'd rather spend the time happily with all of you rather than them."
Going back to Fig she smiled up at him and asked in a husky voice, "Are you done with your business here? I'm ready to leave if you are."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:30, Sun 27 July 2014.

Like a snake weaving its way among dozens of potential prey, Lya again worked her magic. The work in the Halfway-camp may have ground to a halt before, but this most recent application of enchantment nearly crippled it.

Fig continued to marvel at his healed wounds as he made the cart ready and got the horse pointed down the road. Just before climbing aboard, he pulled one of the men aside, a quiet-looking man with deep set eyes. They talked quietly for a moment and then Fig hoisted himself into his seat next to his lovely traveling companion. With a click of his tongue and a light rap of the reins, the cart lurched forward as the tired old horse realized his break was over.

"It's not far Miss Lya, we'll be at me place by dusk." Fig said.

They crossed a low, but very sturdy bridge and entered an area of vast agriculture. The fields were well tended and flood irrigated with many interconnected ditches. The hedgerows and stonewalls were beautiful this time of year, covered with a dark leafy plant with bright purple flowers in cascades like thousands of fragrant waterfalls.  The delicious smells of growing things was often interrupted by the smell of pig wallows, and every once in a while a stray sow and piglets would be rousted from a mud hole by Fig and his cart.

There were many farmers and their hands working the fields, and many of them stopped as the enchanting woman passed by in poor old Bill Figgin's potato cart. There were scandalous glares, smirks, double-takes and several hearty guffaws. Everyone waved, even those who immediately assumed the worst. Somehow news traveled ahead and not much later, there were young men along the way who just happened to find themselves close to the road to take a gander at Fig's pretty passenger.

Finally the sun dipped below the forest canopy to the west as the cart descended a gentle hill and Lya saw a quaint cottage ahead. There was a stone fence and a few outbuildings. The tell-tale smell of pigs let her know they must be getting close. Suddenly countless children began to materialize and run along side the cart, chattering excitedly and all proclaiming, "Father's home!"

Could they possibly all be Fig's? There were nearly a dozen! Surely not...

The door of the cottage opened and a woman walked out to stand beneath the arched stone gateway. She placed her hands on her hips as she surveyed the approaching cart, its driver, and especially the enchantress sitting beside. As they neared, Lya could see that she was a handsome woman, and might at one time have been very pretty. Half a score of children and hard farm work had taken a toll on the woman, but she was still healthy-looking and attractive. Her scowl was not very inviting however...

"Hullo Daph! I'm home..." the farmer tried awkwardly. Poor Bill Figgins.

Lya steps down from the cart and looks about her with a bit of trepidation. This is a situation she is unfamiliar with and she is uncertain how to proceed. Despite Fig's offer of a night's rest at his home the welcome seems a bit dubious to her as she takes in the farm wife's scowl.
It was to be expected she thought. Taking courage in hand she walked up to the scowling woman and introduced herself trying to project an air of forthrightness, "Hello! My name is Lya. Keeping a bright and cheerful demeanor about her she continued, "Your husband kindly allowed me to ride with him for a ways. I just wanted to introduce myself before setting off again."
Nodding, she backed up a pace, turned, and hefting her pack set off down the road towards Hogship.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:18, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

The woman's scowl softened a bit as she looked Lya over as if examining for the tell-tale fingerprints of her husband's large hands.

"Yes, my husband is very generous," she managed to say.

Poor Bill Figgins shifted in his cart seat. The children seemed to sense something amiss and fell quiet, looking at one another while trying to figure it out. Fig stepped down, and approached his wife. As he drew near she noticed the blood on his clothes and the hole in his shirt. Instantly her scowl fled entirely as concern replaced it on her face.

"Are you hurt? What happened?" She rushed forward clutching her apron.

"I'm fine, Daph. Miss Lya fought off one of the men up at the Halfway Camp when we stopped. I at least owe her a meal and a night's rest..."

The farm wife searched her husband's face for signs of betrayal, and finding none in the good and honest man, she let her shoulders slump.

"Yes, very well, where are my manners?"

"M-miss Lya?" the wife called after. "Wait! Please, come back." Holding her husband's rough hand in her own she walked toward Lya.

"I'm sorry, I was just so worried, and the neighbors were saying things... please stay for supper and leave in the morning?"

"Aye, even here in this peaceful place the roads are best avoided by night..." Fig seemed to be holding something back in his warning, though it said more than he'd intended. His wife shot him a glance, but he shrugged it away.

Even Lya who is, perhaps, not the most perceptive of people starts to add things up about the surrounding countryside but realizes that it might not be best to ask about it in front of children. Looking at Fig's wife she says, "Well, I could use a bite to eat and a night's rest. I can't say I'm much use in the kitchen but I'd be glad to help in any way I can."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:20, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Several of the younger children cheered at the news that Lya would be staying for supper and the night. There was still much work to be done before the meal and before nightfall settled upon the farm, so brief introductions were made and chores divided. One of the children had asked Lya to help her feed the hogs. It was a smelly job. Another child asked Lya to help with bringing a few armfuls of wood for the cooking fire. Yet another asked her to help set the sturdy table. One very cute little girl simply asked Lya for a hug.

Fig had taken the cart off toward a thatch-roofed barn and had begun to unload the potatoes with a many-tined fork. He seemed to be suffering nothing from his wounds taken earlier in the afternoon.

The farmer's wife had concocted a delicious smelling stew and there were large loaves to go with it. Fresh butter was placed on the table and each person was armed with a hand-carved wooden spoon and bowl.

Finally, one of the youngsters went to fetch Fig and they all sat down around the table in the tiny cottage. It was cozy for sure. Lya, in order to have a spot on one of the sturdy benches, was obliged to have one of the smaller children sit on her lap. Fig and Daph both had children on their laps as well. Prayers were offered by Fig who made a special request to protect them from all evil this night and to keep Miss Lya safe during her travels on the morn.

The oldest of the siblings arrived late from the fields and was surprised to find they had company. He was a stocky lad of about 17 summers with bleached hair and a toothy smile. He stammered and bumbled, much to the amusement of his brothers and sisters who did not understand that he'd fallen under Lya's enchantment like so many others had that day. His name was Will, and the younger children called him Wilfie. That suddenly seemed to bother him and his face flushed with embarrassment each time he looked at Lya... which was fairly often.

When the meal was finished and the table cleared, the family prepared for bed. Sunrise came early and they would all be up and working before it happened. Lya was offered a pile of straw in the barn and a worn blanket. Several of the children offered to keep her safe and after much cajoling, their request was granted. A couple of Fig's lanky hog dogs joined in the menagerie after the thick candle was blown out.

The night was warm. The company was wiggly.

Lya woke in the dark and, using all her thieving skill, crept as quietly as she could from the barn after gathering up her equipment and donning her deeply hooded cloak. Looking about her she made her way down the farmstead road to the highway and started on her way.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:44, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Quiet as the dark summer night, Lya made her escape from the hospitable and kind family Figgins. She nearly got away unseen, but one small voice stirred the stillness of the hayloft. A whimper from a nightmare perhaps. The sibling sleeping next to the weepy one opened her eyes and met those of Lya. She smiled sleepily and put a finger to her lips, patting the crier back to sleep and then drifting off herself, but giving a tiny wave just before.

The night air was cool. It was perfect for traveling. Lya headed south from the farmstead toward Hogship. Still a few hours before dawn she came to a split in the road. There was a carved wooden sign leaning precariously. It read "Hogship", pointing downward to the west and "Gilgamar", pointing eastwards and upwards to the stars. She righted the sign a bit and it made much more sense.

She then heard a voice off down the eastern way. It seemed to be cursing quietly in frustration. The still night air carried sounds very well. The cursing was followed by a woman's admonition against such foul speaking...

Moving off the road and straining her elven senses Lya moved as quietly as she could from shadow to shadow, pausing often, trying to close the distance between herself and the voices without being seen.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:49, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

The moonlight provided plenty of shadows in which the rogue-ish beauty could hide, for there were scattered trees along the road. They had been allowed to grow to provide shade in the summer for the livestock which traveled the road. Not far beyond however there were rolling fields growing high in the fertile conditions of the Zeland coastal region. There seemed to be plenty of moisture when needed and plenty of sun when needed. The diligent farmers provided the rest.

Lya approached on velvet feet. Her eyes, a gift of her heritage, allowed her to see in the dark, and soon, up ahead, she saw what looked like a fancy carriage along side the road.  The wheels were all on, but some other hardware was either broken or malfunctioning, for there was a man working with a tool. Every so often, he would loose a colorful epithet.

From the far side of the carriage came a woman's voice each time, explaining the uncomeliness of such talk. She walked around finally to stand near where the man was working. It was clear to the hidden elf that they were far from their element.

"Blight and rot!" said the man as he used his tool for a hammer rather than its intended purpose. "I can't get it to go back in!" He nursed a bruised hand, which even from a distance could be seen to be delicate and unused to physical labor.

The woman, dressed in a very mediocre disguise, could not hide her stately and graceful movements. "Please Brother, calm yourself. You'll never get it fixed if you curse and throw tantrums..." Her voice was gentle and her pronunciation precise.

"Tantrum? I'll show you a rotting tantrum!" The man exclaimed in a highly agitated voice before he slammed the underside of the carriage with his tool. The force caused him to lose his grip and the tool clanged onto the gravel on the side of the road.

The woman looked about her nervously. "D-do you think we'll have to w-walk? It is still a long ways to Falport is it not?"

"Yes. No. We're not going to Falport. I've decided we'll catch a ship in one of the villages. We won't be recognized that way."

"Of course we will!" The woman knelt down beside the man. "Even with our disguises, we'll be noticed. Are you sure we shouldn't just go to Falport?"

"No. Yes. I'm sure. If I don't get this bolt back in, we won't be going anywhere!"

Lya crouches down in the darkness using a large tree as cover to listen some more. Curiosity, and the thrill of the hunt, fill her. The pair, from the sound of their conversation so far, are either rich, from a powerful family, or both. The man seems a brute and the woman a bit of a sheltered ninny. That could just be superficial perception though and she waits to hear some more.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:52, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

After another bout with the tool and the misbehaving carriage hardware, the man sat back on the seat of his fancy clothes and put his head in his hands. The woman behind him placed one hand on his shoulder and the other over her mouth as if suppressing a sob. They both looked to be on the verge of emotional breakdown. Finally the man lowered his hands.

"I'm sorry Beatrys... I don't know how to do this kind of thing! Servants have always attended to our needs... I was happy to let them... I should have been more involved!"

The woman reached up and wiped her tears away before making a quiet reply. "No need to be sorry dear Brother Marcus. It is my fault we are out here this night. You have done your best. I never should have asked your help..."

"Nonsense!" said the man, looking up at her. "It was our family honor and treasure that was lost. If you hadn't... if you hand't done what you did, we both might be dead right now!"

"Please, please do not remind me... I am so ashamed dear Brother. How could I have done such a thing? What would Father say if he knew? What would Mother say?"

"Neither of them would say anything Sister, they are gone. We're on our own now. Besides, they made plenty of their own mistakes. It is honor I seek, even more than the recovery of the treasure, if there is even a possibility of that... I must restore our family name!"

"Then why are we running away?" The woman asked in a soft voice as if asking it more to herself than the man on the ground.

There was a long pause as both were lost in their thoughts. "I don't know. Perhaps it would have been more honorable to stay and face the mob, let them kill us for what we've done..."

"You mean what I've done..."

Now things were getting really interesting she thought. Lost treasure? That sounded very interesting. Mobs though. That was bad. Lya had never cared much for mobs really. Silly things. Dangerous things. Liable to get out of hand at a moment's notice and take you in hand the very next. Usually with very uncomfortable results. Treasure though. She considered. Best to hear some more. So Lya waited patiently to see what else she could glean from this very very interesting conversation.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:54, Fri 08 Aug 2014.

Beatrys squeezed Marcus's shoulder, quietly encouraging him to try again. "Is there any way I might help? I'm not very strong, but perhaps another set of hands..."

The man shook his head and gave a self-deprecating chortle. "No. Yes. We're going to have to start doing things for ourselves and solving our own problems... Can you push up in this metal bar?"

The woman mussed with her fancy clothes hidden beneath her paltry disguise, which would fool no one but a true fool, she seemed to be having difficulty forcing herself to sit on the ground. Finally, after several moments of turning and sweeping and gathering, she gently sat herself down and tentatively pushed on the... thing, which her brother had indicated. Marcus applied the tool again and after much grunting, seemed to have made a little progress. Finally he stopped.

"Let's rest a moment." He suggested.

Beatrys looked at her now soiled hands and tried to find a discrete place on her clothing to wipe them off. Then she asked, "Do you think we'll make it brother Marcus? Do you think we really have a chance?"

He was quiet for while before answering. "Even if we do find a ship and can manage a trip north, where shall we go? To the Capitol? I've thought of that. We might find refuge with our cousin there at court. He would have connections and money for us to re-establish ourselves and recover our fortune and name... but if you'll recall, he and mother did not get along well. He might not be willing to help even though he is the son of Father's brother..."


Lya would you make a Wis/Perception check for me please?

Lya wisdom check: 6 using 1d20-1.

A gentle pre-dawn breeze stirred slightly from the direction of the sea. Even this far inland one could smell a hint of the salty tang on the air. The stars were not as pronounced as they'd been when Lya had first started walking. The night was passing by.

"Shall we try for another go at it?" the man asked his sister.

"Yes, I think so..." She carefully shuffled a bit into a better position, which still took several moments as she tried to be careful of her clothing.

The man applied the tool to the carriage again and pulled. There was a very loud squeaking of protest from the part in question as it finally turned into place. The sound seemed to carry through the night air. The two-person repair team glanced around them at the surprising volume of the noise, then looked to each other and laughed.

Marcus was smiling now at his accomplishment. He stood and helped Beatrys to her feet and helped brush the dust from her disguise. Then he assisted her into the carriage and mounted the driver's position himself. He leaned over to speak into the window, "Are you arranged and ready dear Sister?"

"Yes, I think so... do try to avoid those smelly mud-holes though will you? Every time they splash, they remind me of pig..." From her position, Lya might almost have seen the woman wrinkling her nose.

"I'll try my best..." The man didn't sound very confident.

Just then, a sound came from somewhere in the night. It was an animalistic rendition of the resisting noise the carriage part made as it had turned into place. It seemed to come from everywhere but nowhere at the same time. Marcus froze with his hands nearly ready to flog the horse to drive the carriage forward. His eyes were very wide.

From inside the carriage came a small and frightened voice. "What was that Marcus?"

Lya sighs to herself. What is it with this place anyway? Seems like the gods are going out of their way to force her to be helpful. She turns quietly where she is, sits, and rests against a tree trunk for a moment.

She has no business helping out some needy pair of noble twits. She's not a fighter. Not at all cut out for head on confrontations and that pair over there need a paladin not a thief. Worse, she thinks, her coin purse is getting low and from the way they were talking they could be worse off than she. Precious little chance to deepen her pockets helping them out.

Being a concubine to some fat desert lord as her parents wished is starting to sound better and better. No. Never. The thought of some soft damp fat hand pawing her sends shudders shivering through her.

Damn.

Lya gets up and hurries quietly back through the wood til the road curves out of sight from the carriage before she slips back to the road so she can pretend to be coming down it. Can't have them think she's been listening to them. Having gained the road she soon sights the carriage again making sure they have plenty of time to see her coming down the road.

Just as the pretty young thief turned around to head back towards the carriage, she heard a pair of terrified screams and the frantic neighing of a horse! This was immediately followed by an unearthly howling sound and the crunching of wood... As Lya stood, deciding what to do, she heard the man cry out again briefly and the metallic clang of a weapon dropping onto the dirt road.

OOC: You are about 50 yards away or so around a gentle curve in the treed roadway so that you cannot quite see what's happening ahead. What's your pleasure?

She knew it! Those nitwits were in trouble already! With a curse she drew her short sword over her shoulder from it's sheath and sprang into a sprint toward the sound of fighting.

As she rounded the gentle bend in the road, the scene before her was much different than it had been when she was eavesdropping on the pair repairing the carriage. The carriage was now laying on its side. The body of the man was splayed thrice his height away from the carriage onto the far side of the roadway through the trees. He was not moving. Lya could not see the woman from where she was at, but guessed she was still inside the broken carriage. The horse was dead as well, and whatever had killed it was crouched over it now, tearing savagely at its flesh.

As Lya came into view, a hellish-looking creature looked up and made eye contact. It was hunkered down, rending horseflesh with its sharp, hand-like claws. Blood dripped from its toothy mouth. It was more human shaped than animal and was covered in dark glistening fur. The eyes were red as of something from a nightmare. The creature froze and looked at Lya, considering if she was a threat or a treat...

On seeing the creature Lya also froze in her tracks, her heart pounding in her chest. She took in the unexpected tableau in a glance and what she saw shook her. Definitely the situation had gone from bad to immeasurably worse.
Holding her sword in low position she took a step tentatively backward hoping to make it back around the bend to where she could not be seen.

The creature's intense gaze did not falter. It was that of a dog watching the piece of meat in its Master's hand, waiting for him to toss it for a tasty meal. A guttural sound emanated from the creature's throat, which sounded almost canine. The beast looked as if it might spring at any moment.

Lya, I'll ask for a Fear Check here. You may roll your Int, TN 8.

The creature's growl deepened as Lya began stepping backwards. It's feral lips curled to reveal very sharp fangs. Its eyes never left her own...

"Thisss... killlll... minnnne!"

Lya fear check: 7 using 1d20+1.

OOC: Lya's failed fear check means she'll have to make a fight or flight roll!

This will be a 50-50 chance that she'll either attack or run away for at least two turns (as per the spell Cause Fear). To make it more interesting, I'll allow you to add double your Int modifier to the result, either way, meaning that if you would rather run, you may add that +2 to the lower end, if you'd rather fight, then it'll add to the upper end. Low roll below 50% means you run, High roll above 50% on the dice means you fight. Those are the only stipulations I will give on this roll. Read this paragraph carefully, and we'll see how creative and clever Lya's player might be! ;-)

Heh. I've been wanting to try this for a while now. Let's see what happens!

In reply to The Usher (msg # 69):

Erm. "Cause Fear" spell? I'm not seeing it in BFRPG to refer to. Wouldn't I be rolling the Spell Saving Roll instead (just wondering)? Also, could you tell me, in die roll short hand, what you want me to roll? Thanks.

Sorry, I took that from a different list, but it is listed in the Core Rules. Also, you're right, I should have had you save vs Spells for the initial roll as that's the convention, however the creature isn't really "spelling" you as much as it's simply a frightening scene and a creature Lya's never seen before. That's why I went with the Int check instead.  For some reason I seem to default towards Attribute checks... must be the eons of GM'ing GURPS that ruined me... ;-)



Heh. Nope. This is a fight or flight situation, so I'll only help out if you are really stuck or annoyed. Re-read the paragraph and surprise me! PS don't bother scrounging the rulebook, it won't help. All you need is written above. Think outside of the box. Think like Lya might think.

[Private to Lya: If that is annoying to you, let me know. I'm trying something here. You're a guinea pig. I don't mean to upset you. ;-)]

OOC: I don't know what to do here. You say to think like Lya would even though what she will end up doing is determined by chance.

Lya fear check: 82 using 1d100-2.

OOC: To sum up:

Lya said she was trying to back away.
You had me do a fear check which she failed. So she'd flee no?
But...you turned it into a fight or flight thing. Did you want her to stay and yet try to be fair and give her an opportunity to flee anyway?
She failed that roll and now is supposed to stay and fight.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:13, Tue 19 Aug 2014.

The creature's eyes widened in surprise as Lya rushed in with her blade. Such an action was the last thing it would have expected! It fell back onto its haunches trying to give itself a little space, but the pretty young thief was already upon it!

OOC: Lya, you have the initiative, please make an attack roll! (See below first...)

1. I should have had the fear check the post prior, I meant to, just the nature of PbP. I wanted to try something. Shouldn't have blindsided you like that.

2. My second 'experiment', for which you were a guinea pig, turned out about how I thought it might though I would have accepted a very wide range of responses. Lya, being a thief, might have considered the situation and thought about how to skew the odds in her favor. You rolled a d100, I'm guessing, because of the 50% thing I threw out there. However, 50% could have been rolled on any even-numbered die... ;-) Having a +2 Bonus to your roll meant that you might have chosen to roll a d4 and adding or subtracting 2 would have given you a better chance at getting the outcome you wanted compared to a d100. Would Lya, in a gambling situation, have rolled a d100 or a smaller die?

That was my monthly attempt at being clever and throwing a curve ball. Don't sweat it. It was just for fun.

3. Failing the fear check doesn't necessarily mean that she'd flee based on the fight or flight thingee I wanted to try. Failing the fear check was only step one in that she'd lost her normal poise and common sense at the horror before her. Even if she had already started to step backwards instinctively before the full realization of what she saw sunk in... and then it spoke! So, now she's in fight mode for two rounds. I don't know if you've ever hunted or been around an animal on a farm that was 'on the fight', but fear grants them extraordinary speed and strength! I've seen field mice face down a dog that way! So, for these two rounds, Lya will enjoy a +4 bonus to both attack and damage rolls (in addition to her normal modifiers)... after that, she'll need to get creative! ;-)

4. This experiment was an effort to convey something that, if we were sitting at a table, might have gotten just the reaction Lya might feel as her fear kicked in... "WHAT???" Interestingly, PbP is such a different beast, that attempts to throw players off their guard like this seem to fizzle more than they work out.

5. Let's play out the fight or flight, just to see what happens, and then I won't pull things like this on you anymore... X-(

Lya swings her short sword at creature, fighting through her fear and revulsion.

Lya attack roll: 12 using 1d20+6.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:02, Thu 21 Aug 2014.

Like a field mouse taking on the farm cat, Lya's instinctual attack on the creature caused it to retreat in order to avoid her desperate slashes. It bared it's fangs and snarled in response, but its eyes were still wide with surprise. She could see now that it was rather tall when it stood up, and was eerily human-like. Its eyes glowed slightly as she was able to detect with her Elven vision, a hereditary gift from her father.

Through her fear though, registered a sound in the quiet pre-dawn air of something stirring within the overturned carriage...

OOC: Go ahead and make your second attack roll please to finish the 'fight or flight' rounds!

Lya attack roll: 13 using 1d20+6.

Lya's second stroke barely sliced the shiny fur, and she felt her wrist being seized. Suddenly, the world around her grew dark! Her inherited night vision allowed her to still see as she had before, but it was almost as if someone had put out a large lantern in the sky... The low snarl from the creature which held her wrist, suddenly turned almost into a whimper. Lya felt a canine face press close to her ear. She could feel its whiskers on her cheek. "Youuuu fffiiiighterrrrrr! Beeewaaaaarrrrrrrrre!" it growled at her, but it did not seem to be menacing.

Then she was released and the creature was bounding away into the darkness! With the veil of terror no longer before her, she was able to see the canine-like creature shimmer and morph slowly into the shape of... a man... before it was gone from sight, heading towards the mountains. Lya risked a quick look up to confirm that the moon, a full moon, hand gone behind the horizon, plunging the area into pre-dawn gloom, and exposing the true nature of the creature she had desperately attacked.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:22, Tue 26 Aug 2014.

Lya sat on the ground, giving in to her shaky knees. Dropping her sword she held her head in her hands muttering to herself over and over, "stupid stupid...".
This message was last edited by the player at 17:10, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Lya didn't know how long she sat there before noticing that the sky was growing lighter. Dawn would not be far off, and she was sitting in the middle of a mess. The road would likely have farmers and livestock traveling on it soon.

The body of the man was splayed out on the far side of the roadway. He did not appear to be breathing. Near his hand was a very finely crafted sword with a thin curving blade. It was not bejeweled and fancy, but obviously of significant value to anyone who knew the real value of a weapon.

The carriage was lying on its side and what little luggage the pair had brought with them for their journey was scattered. The horse had long since bled out and was lying there with a couple of horrible gash wounds in its throat and shoulder where the creature had started to feed.

Lya got up and brushed herself off. The man will keep for now she thought. Going over to the carriage she opened the door and looked in.

Overall, the damage to the carriage didn't look too bad. The creature still must have been tremendously strong to send it over. The door latch was bound a bit and took some effort to coax open, but it finally came free and was easily pulled up and open. Inside was a jumble of scattered luggage, boxes, and clothing. On the bottom, which was actually the side of the carriage, lay the body of the woman. Her eyes were open slightly and every so often she drew a ragged breath.

"Soooo.... coooold..." she whispered.

Upon further inspection, Lya could sense that something was terribly wrong with the woman although she did not see any blood and all the appendages seemed to be in relatively the right places.

"... Marcus... I'm... coooold..."

Lya looks closely at the woman wondering why she should be cold when there doesn't seem to be any wounds. Seeing that there is not enough light for a minute inspection she pulls the woman from the carriage and lays her out so the sunlight can illuminate the woman so Lya can take a better look.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:59, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

Trying to move the woman turned out to be much more difficult than it might have been. She was essentially dead weight, unable to assist Lya at all. Finally, with the woman on the ground and some of the loose clothing from the broken luggage inside the carriage piled on top of her, Lya was able to do a more thorough inspection of her situation.

The woman seemed to be in a terrible state, her breathing was ragged and sporadic, her fingers were in fact cool to the touch, as were her toes and feet when Lya removed her fancy shoes and felt them. The woman seemed barely able to keep her eyes open and they never seemed focused.

"...thank y- ...Marcus?"

Around the woman's neck was a golden locket. It drew Lya's attention as the craftsmanship was exquisite. There was a single ruby entwined in delicate golden leaves and the chain from which it dangled was fashioned such that each link was shaped as a tiny flower.

[Private to Lya: It's early morning, still predawn, but lightening. There should be ample light for your elven vision, and you guess there might be an hour, maybe less, before the sun actually comes up...]

Unable to resist her quest for pretty things Lya gently lifted the locket from around the woman's neck so as not to disturb her enough to bring her to full consciousness and slipped it into her pouch for later perusal. Rising, she made her way to where she'd spotted the curving sword earlier and picked it up. Best to leave now she figured and leave no memory of her presence.

She dropped the bauble into her pouch and looked up towards the other body. Her suspicion was correct, for as she approached the man, she saw that he was dead. As she knelt to pick up the wonderfully crafted blade, she noticed that the man's hands were calloused. They were not calloused in the way that Bill Figgin's hands had been, but in the way of someone who had practiced daily with a weapon.

The sun was now cresting the mountains to shine down upon a new day over the fertile lands of the Zeland coastal region. The road would be in use any moment now by farmers and the scene here would be discovered...

To the east lie the road through farm country and eventually the coastal city of Falport as well as a few villages like Gilgamar and Kelpton. To the southwest the road continued toward the unofficial "capitol" of this area, Hogship. When the humble farm-folk like the Figgins clan planned on a major trip to the big city, they were talking about going to Hogship which was in reality a glorified dock for loading bags of foodstuffs and ramps for loading livestock with some shops and suppliers crammed around the perimeter.

To the south, was the direction the creature had gone when the sun had started to come up and the full moon had ducked behind the hills. Perhaps there might be some tracks to follow.  The bodies of the brother and sister, Marcus and Beatrys, needed to be buried as well, and the carriage and fine horse salvaged and disposed of. Lya had lost valuable time, but had somehow managed to retain her life to live yet another day...

OOC: Now What's your pleasure Miss Lya?

Lya shivered without really knowing why. After a moment she headed on eastward the way she had been going being careful to go back into the trees far enough away from the road to be out of sight from anyone who wasn't actively looking for anyone there and keeping the road itself reasonably in sight. She moved as quickly as taking care not to leave a back trail dictated.

Travel was fairly easy, or at least would have been, even enjoyable, had not existed the need for care. In a few places, the trees along the roadway were gone, either having blown down in the past, or perhaps an industrious farmer had built a wall of field stones and farmed right up to the edge. Although many of the farmers would not have minded to see a pretty elf-ish looking lass sneaking eastward, they had thier minds on their crops and critters for the time being.

Late in the afternoon, Lya came to a place where a river intersected the road. There was a stout stone bridge which was covered like a barn so that animals would have an easier time crossing. The trees were very few and far between here and the plants in the fields were shorter as well. It presented a bit of a problem for Lya of how to cross without being seen, for once in a while there was traffic on the road.

Her other option was to try and swim it. The river didn't look too swift, but it could be deep, and was likely still fairly cold as it was glacial in origin. Farmers had several wooden structures built out into the river to try to divert some water towards their fields for flood irrigation.

On coming to the river and the bridge Lya decided that, at this point, there was no real need to stay hidden any longer. After all it should be obvious from the tracks at the site of the carriage wreck that what had happened had been the result of an attack by some large animal. With that in mind Lya stepped nonchalantly onto the road, casually walking along and crossed the bridge, continuing on her way east.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:06, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

The late afternoon heat made the cool water look inviting. The bridge was sturdily built and well maintained. Lya was nearly across it when she heard a farm cart coming her direction from the east. It appeared from around the bend, and neared the bridge. A single farmer sat in the driver's seat with a long piece of grass bobbing from the corner of his mouth. The horse was another tired-looking animal, but was younger than many she'd seen during her travels in the region and was actually trotting! The sound echoed off the roof of the covered bridge. Lya's sharp hearing, a gift from her Elven father, caught the sound of other sets of horse hooves. These ones moving much faster toward her from the opposite side of the bridge!

Through the clearing thundered a trio of horses. A quick glance back showed Lya's sharp eyes that two were deputies in leather armor, and the other was clad in dark grey with blonde hair flowing out behind.

OOC: Lya is about two-thirds of the way across the bridge toward the east end. The farmer's cart is about 50 yds away, approaching at a trot. The other riders are about a hundred yards from the west end of the bridge, approaching at a gallop.

Another impossible situation Lya reflected. She was getting used to this by now and, quite contrary to her nature, she seemed, on reflection, to be developing something of a fatalistic attitude.
Feigning alarm at the possibility of being either trampled by horse and cart or galloping oafs she hurried her pace making a great show of sidling along the side of the covered bridge for the benefit of the farmer approaching. Panting and whimpering outrageously a look of sheer terror written comic-opera large on her face she exclaimed in contrived panic, "Don't hit me! Don't hit me!"
As the cart trundled past her she hurried to the end of the bridge and then scrambled down the slope to find a place under it out of sight in the shade.
Once out of sight she rolled her eyes at herself, lost the silly-ninny act and quickly and with efficient speed placed the blade, with the bauble wrapped tightly about the hilt and cross-guard, into the water so that they were hidden from sight, then placed a rock over them to hold them in place.
That done she assumed a pose of aggrieved relaxation and began removing her boots so as to cool her feet after the day's long walk.
The deception was thin, she knew, but any deception was complete until pierced. Hiding in plain sight was often the most effective of all deceptions. To complete the picture of a woman in the process of cooling off and desiring a bit of privacy whilst doing so she made sure to open her tunic widely to expose a generous amount of her more salient attributes for the benefit of anyone who might come down the slope.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:03, Tue 09 Sept 2014.

The startled farmer nearly ran his poor cart into the sidewall as he made a herculean effort to avoid the pretty thief, who was really never in any real danger. It caused for a bit of commotion however and allowed her to slip beneath the bridge. From this vantage, the sound above carried, transmitted from the roof through the thick floorboards with a dull echoing quality.

The sounds of thundering hooves skidded to a stop as did the farmer in his cart. Lya could not see any of this, but she could hear most of it and picture it well enough that she might as well be standing along side.

"Sir, please back up your cart, we are in a terrible urgency and must be allowed to pass quickly."

The farmer who had just gotten his horse under control again, was soothing the animal and seemed to be in no great hurry to comply.

"We had us a bit of a start there, that's all," said the farmer but it wasn't apparent if he was talking to the rider or his horse.

"Sir, I must demand that you clear the way immediately!"

"Alright, what's got her tail-feathers up anyways?" asked the farmer. The sounds of a horse and cart creaking and the farmer clicking his tongue to make the horse back up drifted down on Lya with a quantity of dust which sparkled lazily in the afternoon light.

"There's been trouble on the road, an attack of some sort... We're on our way to the junction up ahead to set up a checkpoint. We've had little reports of trouble by bandits along this road... and there were some strange tracks discovered. Have you seen anyone or anything out of the ordinary countryman?"

The farmer's cart had slowly exited the covered bridge now which allowed the trio enough room to pass by. He glanced over his shoulder to look for the pretty face which had nearly cause an accident of its own inside the bridgeway, but did not see her on the road. He shrugged, "I guess not... I'm just headin' toward Hogship to pick up some supplies tomorrow. Plan to stay at me sister's place. Ya got me concerned now though, maybe I oughta wait..."

"No, I think you'll be fine. The attack seemed to be a targeted one. Two wealthy nobles from up north..."

"Ah," said the farmer knowingly, "then perhaps not much was really lost then..."

They all shared a laugh and then the trio bid the farmer a good remainder of the day as each party resumed their previous directions. As the farmer's cart clattered over the bridge, one of the trio of riders slowed. It was the one with the long blonde hair, a woman. She turned in her saddle and looked back at the bridge at the farmer's cart.

"We didn't search the cart," she said loudly to her companions. They stopped with her.

"Are you serious?" asked one of the men. "That farmer was going toward the attack... you are too paranoi..." his voice trailed off as he spotted a beauty bathing her feet near the base of the bridge.

The woman gave a snort of disgust before she nudged her horse in the direction the soldier was gawking.

"You, traveller, may I ask you a few questions?"

Lya looked up from washing her feet for a moment and gave the woman a warm smile. "Surely. Why don't you have a seat here next to me. Nice and cool down here. Glad you're here by the way. There's some kind on nasty beast out in the woods back that way." Lya shuddered and waved vaguely westward into the woods. "Saw it heading south. Looked wolfish but it stood like a man. Gave me a right fright it did." Letting a frown of concern cross her face she went on, "You weren't sent by my family were you? I'm not going to be that fat man's concubine! I don't care what they say! Just because I'm pretty doesn't mean they have to shuffle me off to be some rich man's play thing!" Lya allowed her face to crumple, "It's too much..." Lya broke down and wept for a moment, her face flushed and tears standing in her eyes. "...and...and I almost got raped just a couple of days ago too!" Lya continued brokenheartedly. "If it hadn't been for that nice farmer Fig I'd have been..." Lya stopped, tears streaming down her cheeks.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:00, Tue 09 Sept 2014.

The mounted woman looked a little shocked at the sudden gush from the stranger. She leaned forward in her saddle, intrigued. Her dark gray surcoat draped in folds over hardened leather breastplate and black leather leggings. Her abundant blonde hair was pulled back from her face and tied up in three flowing ponytails in a triangle pattern on the back of her head. Her eyes had the same exotic tilt to them as Lya's and her ears were the slightest bit pointed. She was not a true half-elf, but she definitely had some ancestry in there somewhere. She was not as beautiful as Lya, but her eyes were deep and very alert.

"Slow down... Let's start with your name, if you don't mind, and relax, please, I know nothing of fat men and concubines."

One of the leather-clad deputies tried to smother a snicker behind a cough.

The woman's mouth hardened a little, but she didn't react to the man. "I'm very interested in what you said about a 'beast'... where, exactly, would you say you thought you saw something?" There may have been just a bit of emphasis on the word "thought" but if there was, it was subtle.

On the far side of the bridge, the farmer's cart was now back to a normal speed as his tired horse had already forgotten the episode from moments before. The farmer had not however, and was standing up, craning his neck to see across the river to where Lya was conversion with the trio.

Pretending to cover herself up at the snicker from the man Lya pulled her tunic closed with one hand, gripping it tightly until her knuckles turned white. "It was..." she paused, sniffling a little, "...over that way." she waved vaguely westward in the trees. "The beast looked like a wolf but it stood on two legs. It was awful! I've been fleeing from where I saw it all day long! And just now I've stopped to cool my feet..." she stopped and looked up at the woman, while blinking away some tears. "If you aren't from my parents why are you here? Are you here to take me back to that awful camp?!" Lya pretended to stumble to her feet in a fresh panic, a look of consternation on her face. Sidling away from the woman, her face stark with terror, she backed away under the bridge.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:55, Tue 09 Sept 2014.

The woman remained neutral after her initial reaction to Lya's burst of information. Her horse settled and cocked a leg to rest it, but she kept her gaze locked on Lya. "You've been fleeing all day?" She asked. "You've come a long ways then. You must have been very frightened? Was there anyone else who saw this creature you claim to have seen?"

From her place in the saddle, she looked down on Lya. "I am Deputy-Seeker Thela Haymane of Hogship, these are Deputies Neb Muddoc and Pelt Cooper. We've ridden a long way this day as well... and we likely have a long way yet to go. But our horses could use a bit of a rest and a drink."

She dismounted then and approached Lya slowly, careful to maintain the higher position on the bank. One of the deputies, the larger of the two, took her reins and with the other deputy, walked down to the river to water the horses.

"May I ask where you are headed, all alone in flight? Might I also ask from where you've come?" She shared a smile, but it was neutral as well, neither warm nor cold. Then she added softly as her smile warmed just a bit, "I'm sorry to hear about what might have happened to you... Would you tell me about it?"

"I don't know this place very well so I couldn't rightly tell you where I'm headed. Mostly just away from things. I've been traveling in the woods trying to keep out of sight from anyone who might be coming from that camp. I spent the night in a farm's barn and before that I was on the road coming south from a miner's camp or whatever it was. It was there that this bully tried..." Lya broke off, staring into the distance, shaking her head. After a pause she said, "Please. I don't know where anything is or anything. I've been alone for a long time and this is just all too much. My so called father's elven family were embarrassed because I'm only half-elven so they arranged for me to become a fat noble's concubine. So I fled. That's been the story of my life for way too long. Not elf, not human, too pretty not to be the desire of every passing man. And now...now this! I don't know what you want from me!" Lya practically wailed, obviously distraught now.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:51, Tue 09 Sept 2014.

"It sounds like you've had a rough few days Miss..." she paused briefly for Lya to reveal her name. "By 'that camp', I'm assuming you mean Baltor's Halfway Camp? I'm surprised to hear such a report coming from there. Baltor usually keeps his men under fairly tight control... Can you tell me the man's name that tried to..." she let it hang.

The Deputy-Seeker, as she had called herself, pursed her lips a moment as if considering something. She looked around her at the sky which was clear, but would soon be growing dim as the afternoon faded into evening and then into night.

"I've an offer for you. I still have many questions about this 'beast' you mentioned and I'd like to hear your story about being traded to a fat-man and how you've escaped. That is a fate I would flee from myself, so I can sympathize with you. If you'll ride with me, perhaps we can talk a bit."

"There are no inns or anything of that nature in the vicinity." She continued. "For shelter tonight, it seems as if you'll have limited choices. You may risk seeking lodging in another farm, which I'm told most of the farmers in this area are of kindly heart and would surely take you in. You may try a night under the stars, but if what you are saying about a wandering beast chasing you is accurate, I doubt you'll sleep very well. Or you may try your luck at arriving southward to Gilgamar or pushing through the night through the Valley of Vines, which still leaves you alone in the dark."

"So here's my offer. If you'll ride with me eastward, I'll provide a hot evening meal and a warm cot at the livery which I and my companions are headed towards. I'll even have your pack filled with fruit and trail rations in the morning... How does that sound?" The woman's smile had warmed slightly so that it was no longer quite as neutral as it had been.

Lya took in the woman's slightly warmer expression and let her tears stop flowing quite as much. "My name is Lya" she said miserably. "The man who wanted to have his way with me was someone called Urlor. With the help of a farmer by the name of Fig I fought him off. Fig told me that Urlor is Baltor's brother. Baltor, apparently, wasn't in the camp at the time. There was another, Duggan, who seemed especially to take his side. The camp, which I couldn't believe, seemed undecided about helping me or Urlor. I'd say that Baltor doesn't have as tight a reign on his camp as he thinks he does." She paused, letting a slow smile light her face, "Fig. Fig is a good good man. He risked himself for me, someone he barely knew, and even let me spend the night in his barn. That beast isn't chasing me I don't think. It was heading South when I saw it. Though I'm grateful for your offer of a hot meal and rations I think I'll try and find another barn to spend the night in. But...could you tell me if there is a city or anything East of here?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:19, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

The woman nodded grimly. "I'm not aware of this Duggan, but Urlor I know of... he's had run-ins with the Sheriff and my fellow Deputies on many occasions. The last time, if I recall correctly, he was given a bit of reflectory time in the Falport jail. It was Baltor who sprung him out by promising to keep Urlor under his thumb and not let him leave the Halfway Camp alone. Thank you Lya, I shall pass that information on... perhaps it's time for Urlor to spend a little more time in reflection... like a long, cold winter's worth. Maybe that will take the... uh... fire out of him... if not, then a dull knife might!"

The woman then waved to the two other Deputies who had finished watering the horses and were allowing the horses to graze a bit as they meandered their way back up from the riverbank.

"I'm sorry you won't join us Lya, good luck with finding a barn, and please be careful." She then removed her riding glove and extended her hand to Lya in farewell.

She considered a moment and then said, "This part of Zeland is pretty sparsely populated. Folks who are here have a reason to be, and it usually involves a fair amount of difficult labor.  To the southeast lies the village of Gilgamar and it even has an inn, the Golden Toad. If you follow this road leading to the northeast, you'll eventually pass through a very beautiful valley nestled between the mountains. It is called the Valley of Vines for that is where the majority of Zeland's famous wine-grapes are grown. There are a few vineyards with dormitories where seasonal workers reside, but right now they are likely to be full. If you are able to press onward, you'll eventually find your way to Falport, but it is a week's walk from here."

"Your best bet, Lya, is to return to Hogship, or come with us and I can arrange for you a horse if you're willing to trade a little work at the garrison..."

"A Horse? Really? That really would be of use." Lya appeared to stop and consider, then nodded. "Very well. I will go with you. Give me a moment." Drying her feet off she put her boots back on and gathered up her things. "Very well. I am ready."

OOC: Very well, what 'things' are you gathering, and how do you plan to handle that? Why don't you include a d20 roll + your CHA score (not the modifier). If the total is 21+ add some good narrative and consider your action a success.

Zeeny would be so proud of me... ;-)

OOC: At this point Lya has decided, regretfully, that fate has conspired to make it so that she will have to leave her precious baubles behind for the nonce as she fears that our oh so wonderful sheriff who appeared out of the blue at exactly the absolute wrong moment in time will regard her refusal of help suspiciously and she certainly doesn't want that to happen since at this point she has no way of knowing what the deuce is causing all this horrible bad luck. Her sincere hope, of course, is that fickle fate will come down on her side for once after she gets her horse and that she will be able to retrieve her "loot".

Would you kindly make a saving throw roll for me? D20 + Will mod. And no, I won't tell you what for... :-P

"Why do these things keep happening? What have I done to deserve this?"

Muwahaha! Believe it or not, I'm really on your side... honest and stuff... for real... just ask Zeeny ! ;-)

Saving Throw: 4 using 1d20.

As Lya prepared to depart, Deputy-Seeker Haymane took her horse's reins from Deputy Muddoc and spoke briefly with the two of them. As Lya scrambled back up the bank, Haymane mounted her horse and offered Lya her arm. "We'll need to make haste if we're to make the garrison before dark," she said to the pretty thief before kicking her horse. The two Deputies fell in just behind and to either side of the Seeker as the countryside flew by and the sun neared the horizon.

As they rode, Seeker Haymane continued to ask Lya questions about the creature she'd seen and the conditions surrounding it. "About what time today was the last you saw of the creature? Did it make any noises? Are there any other details you can remember?"

The pointed questions came in spurts, but a goodly part of their conversation was about the Seeker's youth growing up in the verdant fields and humble farms around Hogship. She had never planned to be a peace-keeper, she'd wanted to be a mother and raise children on a little farm somewhere, but after marriage she had found that her body was unable to have children. She blamed it on her Elven blood, and though she did not come across as being bitter toward Elves, there was a hint of sorrow deep and secluded.

Her husband had been killed by an outlaw, and she had almost gone mad with grief. She vowed revenge, for the outlaw was well known in the area and the Sheriff had been a lazy philanderer who would never raise a finger. She had been patient and had learned to fight. She had prepared and planned for the time to be right. Then, she had been robbed of her chance when the Sheriff had died of some disease and a new Sheriff had been chosen by the people.

The new Sheriff, Kor Rainhawk, had taken little time in his efforts to fix the many problems facing the region. Almost his first action had been to attempt to arrest the Outlaw. Sheriff Rainhawk claimed the man resisted and was killed in self-defense. Many folks believed that justice had been served and didn't care about the details. Thela Haymane had lost her chance for her husband's revenge.

It had been the Seeker's decision, rash though it was in her anger, to exact the stolen revenge now on the the Sheriff. "I was in such a dark place," she explained. "Somehow I thought that killing someone would make the pain in my heart go away."

When she had gone to confront the man who had stolen her revenge, she'd had a change of heart when she realized he was honorable and good, so unlike the waste of flesh they'd had before. She'd broken down and confessed her story to Rainhawk, and instead of belittling her, he had recruited her. With no husband and no prospects of a family, she decided to join on as a Deputy, with the changed perspective that now she might prevent what had happened to her husband from happening to others.

The last stretch of the road led them nearly southward until they came to an intersection. The two Deputies, who had said little during the ride, surged ahead toward a squat stone building built on a bluff at the base of the mountains. It was nearly dark, but both the women could see just fine thanks to their common elven heritage.

"Lya, I have several hours of reports and dispatches to address yet tonight. If you'd like, report to the kitchen. Old mother Haga, we all call her Mother, will fix you some food, arrange you a cot and then get you lined out so that you may begin working off that horse... Oh, and we may summon you to give a report on your encounter with the creature. I realize you've told me much already, but likely they'll want to hear it from your mouth as well. If you'll help out Mother for a few days, I think that'll cover the horse, and you can be off. Do we have a deal?"

OOC: I'll try to get an update on the map sometime this weekend. I only have the files available on one computer right now. Anyway, you are at the intersection where the road splits to go to the Valley of Vines to the northeast and Gilgamar to the southeast. The garrison is small, but well organized and tended. It's about 9:00pm or so...
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:40, Fri 12 Sept 2014.

"Yes, we have a deal Thelma." said Lya with a smile.

Looking around her she headed off in the direction of the kitchen, her nose leading her to it by the somewhat enticing scents it was giving off.

Going through the door she came up to the old woman she found within and introduced herself. "Good evening. My name is Lya. Deputy-Seeker Haymane sent me. She said you could set me up with a cot and a meal. I'm here to work for a week in exchange for a horse."

She looked at the woman before her with a look of earnestness while also looking about curiously.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:50, Sun 14 Sept 2014.

Old Mother Haga was a large woman, indicative of much testing and tasting of the bounty of her kitchen. She appeared to be a motherly (or grandmotherly) type found in a quaint country cottage instead of a bleak stone garrison at the base of a craggy mountain. Her gray hair was pulled back behind her head, but a stray lock had fallen down in an almost girlish fashion. Her eyes betrayed the rest of the comforting appearance for they held a haunted look and she had dark circles under them, perhaps from many a night spent crying herself to sleep. She smiled warmly and extended a dough-covered hand, giving Lya a firm grip.

"Ooops, looks like you'll need to wash up. There's a basin over there Miss Lya. Then will you fetch me that basket of apples there? They're fresh off the tree, summer apples just make a meal this time of year..." The large woman bustled around the well-cared-for kitchen chattering on as if Lya had grown up there. "Mama" Haga was a study in efficiency. She was preparing and cooking, slicing and dicing, and tending the flames of her cook fires. In no time she had Lya lined out.

"A week will go quick around this place Miss Lya, there's lots to be done right now. Maybe by the end of the week I'll have convinced you to stay to help an old woman about her chores... Oh... child hold the knife this way, then you can slice in both directions... twice as fast that way." Mama Haga adjusted Lya's knuckles on the sharp knife she was using to slice the first of the summer apples.

While they were working, Mama Haga offered her tastes and tidbits of different things, asking her opinion each time as if Lya were a guest chef from some fancy staff at a Noble's Manor in the Capitol. "I think it needs a bit more salt, what do you think dear? Oh, this should simmer a tad longer to bring out the flavor, don't you think?" Lya soon found the edge taken off her hunger from all the sampling she'd been induced to partake of, and she'd learned a fair bit about cooking without even realizing she'd been instructed.

Finally, after perhaps a half an hour of business, the fat old woman handed Lya a large wooden tray, brimming with steaming meats, potatoes, carrots and other hearty sides. "Take this down to the council chamber will you dear one? I take it they're having a meeting. Tell Thela hello for me would you? Oh, don't forget these utensils... When you come back I'll have a plate ready for you, and then you can help me scrub up!" Old Mother Haga made it sound as if cleaning dirty crockery was the most exciting part of her day. Lya was bustled out of the kitchen and into the stone and wood hallway. There was a short flight of stairs leading down to her right. From that direction, she could hear muffled voices which seemed to be in deep discussion.

[Private to Lya: As usual, a few minor liberties taken in order to set the scene... sry.]

OOC: The garrison has two floors with a high stone wall around the roof from which a handful of archers might defend. The building is built into a hillside such that the back door of the kitchen goes right into a garden. The rest of the main floor is divided into a barracks and a small study or office. Down below is a medium-sized council room, a small armory, and a hallway which leads deeper into the hillside. There is also a doorway leading out into the yard. The entry into the main floor is by way of a stairway made of rough, hand-hewn boards.  Outside the building there is a stable, a stone latrine, some storage buildings, a well, and a basic blacksmithing setup. Surrounding the garrison is a wall made of stout, sharpened logs which are planted in the rocky soil and lashed tightly with rawhide.

In a bemused cloud Lya followed along with Old Mother Haga as she did the little tasks set before her. If she weren't still so spooked about being nearly caught when her friend was hung she'd have turned down the Deputy's offer. As it was she found herself doing things about the kitchen that made her feel awkward and ill at ease while her stomach growled and her belongings hung heavy on her shoulders.

Taking the tray Old Mother Haga handed her she resisted the urge to sneak some of the food into her mouth as she walked it down to the council chamber.

The sound of voices in earnest sounding discussion attracted her natural inquisitiveness and, after looking about to see if anyone was near, went to the door to see if she could hear what was being said, being careful to have an excuse in mind and keeping an eye and ear out for anyone approaching.

On silent feet, Lya approached the heavy wooden door. As she leaned her slightly pointed ear against it, she could hear a man's voice speaking, and though it was still a bit muffled, she knew that she didn't recognize it.

"...activity in the area. I have reports from all the way up near the northern border down to Gilgamar. These stories are similar enough to make me think there's only one of these... ...separated enough that distances and times don't match... ...sudden increase in activity does not bode well... ...something is coming... ...feel it!"

In response came the muffled voice of Deputy-Seeker Haymane, "Sir, I can only tell you of the... ...found them dead, their horse was also slain and bore the only marks. The woman had been dragged... ...must have been very strong to overturn the carriage. Also of note, the man was not armed, but his belt had been..."

"You followed... ...you find her?"

"At the bridge... ...either sincere, or very good at avoiding my abilities... ...has been cooperative. I think she's scared of being found and I don't blame her. Honestly Sir, I don't believe she could... ...but my "sight" led me to her from the scene for some reason..."

"Why don't we bring her in now? Oh, see about a plate of food too, Old Mother Haga must be chatting with our foundling..."

Beyond the doorway there was a scrape of a chair leg on the stone floor, and a booted footfall coming toward her!

On quiet feet Lya hurriedly went back to the hall she'd been heading down and went on her way with the tray of food though to be honest she had no idea where she was headed anyway but she shrugged to herself and relaxed her body while she thought desperately: the Seeker had the Sight?! You have GOT to be kidding me! she demanded of the gods. Hadn't they toyed with her enough already? It was enough to drive a person to distraction. Might as well give up being a thief entirely at this rate. The Sight. Hmmph. She was beginning to suspect there was something very wrong with this Universe and she wanted nothing to do with it. Might as well go into a nunnery. Yep. A nunnery with habit and all. The Sight. Bah! And so she went on muttering silently to herself the whole time.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Tue 16 Sept 2014.

"Ah! There you are!" said one of the deputies she'd met earlier in the day. "Just in time, we're rather hungry. Why don't ya bring that down here, and then Deputy-Seeker Haymane would like to ask you a few questions... one last time... thanks."

The man turned back down the stairway and held open the heavy wooden door for her. Through the doorway she could see a handful of other Deputy-looking folks sitting around a very sturdy and large square table.


OOC: Sorry short, super busy...

Lya went through the door nodding her thanks to the man holding it for her. Moving about the room she deposited the food best she could not having much experience in serving at the table. That done she asked the man who'd greeted her, "Where do I find Haymane?"

"I'm right here," said a woman dressed now in gray robes. She smiled that smile which conveyed little measure of emotion. "I had to get out of that armor and riding gear. I'm afraid I was not meant for it." Her slightly elven features, much less pronounced than Lya's, were pinched and tired-looking in spite of the smile on her face.

"You've met Deputies Muddoc and Cooper, may I introduce you to Command-Deputy Byron Farfeld," she said motioning to an important looking man seated at the head of the table, "Deputy Coll Honeywell, and Ghelm, our garrison Quartermaster..." She motioned to a tall man with dark eyebrows and grayish hair and a grizzled dwarf wearing a breastplate over a sleeveless shirt which left his gnarly muscled arms bare.

"We'll try to keep this very short. I know you must be even more exhausted than we are, you said you were running most of the day, isn't that right?" The interrogation had begun.

OOC:
Ok, here's how we'll do this. We'll roll a contest of your Charisma versus Haymane's Intelligence. High roll (that is, farthest under the attribute score) for me means I control the outcome of the questioning. High roll for you means you have the final say... I'll post my roll now. If you win, go ahead and answer them if you like or simply narrate how you dodge directly answering them.

The questions concern your whereabouts since last night, if you saw anything strange on the road, a description of your first encounter with the wolf-like creature, your escape and travel to the bridge, and your real reason for being in the region...

Deputy Haymane rolled 16 using 1d20 ((16)) That was 1 under her Intelligence of 17.

So, roll 1d20 and subtract that number from your Charisma Score to find your margin of success... If it is greater than 1, you win!

Contest of Wills: 14 using 1d20. Points under CHA score of 18: 4.

Lya groaned inwardly but smiled helpfully and recounted her entire "story" beginning from her escape from the people paid to deliver her to the fat city lord as his concubine, her travel down the road with Fig, her less than happy encounters at the mining camp, her night at Fig's farm, her journey off the road and in the forest to avoid being found by either anyone sent by her parents or the city lord to retrieve her or the men from the mining camp, her sighting of the man-wolf beast, and her encounter with Deputy Haymane at the bridge. Left out of the story was her time spent with the thief in the city she'd stayed at after escaping the ship while it was in port taking on supplies before it's final leg transporting her to her new home as an unwilling concubine, the encounter at the carriage and her taking the bauble and the blade, and her hiding said items in the water.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:59, Fri 19 Sept 2014.

OOC: Nice.

Command-Deputy Farfeld spoke after the silence that followed Lya's story. It had taken her a good while in the telling, but was full of enough truth that her exclusions were easily glossed over. The others sat back in their chairs, and while they had the courtesy not to eat while Lya was talking, she could see their eyes straying to the still steaming plates.

"Thank you Miss Lya. Deputy-Seeker Haymane has informed me that she promised you a horse in exchange for helping Mother Haga. I appreciate your willingness to work, and if you're not careful you might actually learn a thing or two. While it is not normally our protocol to allow weapons to be carried by those who've not taken our Oath inside the garrison, I'm lifting that restriction in light of certain occurrences of late."

Farfeld glanced around at the others before he continued. The tall man, Honeywell, scowled, but said nothing. "We've several reports of strange creatures in the region of late. Not a few describe sights and sounds such as you experienced this morning. For your safety, I might suggest you remain under arms during your time here. We're spread fairly thin right now. I don't mean to alarm you, and there is likely little threat to the garrison, but we believe many of the reports are factual and it's better to be prepared than caught unawares. I think that is all, why don't you go check in with Mother Haga and perhaps she'll draw you a bath. Thank you Miss Lya, and well met."

The other deputies murmured and then attacked their plates as soon as they thought it was politely possible to do so.

Lya dutifully left the room and returned to "check in" with Mother Haga, inwardly relieved at having survived yet another round of questions. She was not looking forward to a week of toiling about but at present she just wanted food, a bath, and a place to sleep. She'd also have to coax some willing young man to instruct her in how to ride and care for a horse and it's equipment. That part of this, at least, should be fun.

Old Mother Haga seemed to have read the mind of the garrison commander, for as Lya returned, the matronly woman took her out the back, through the kitchen garden and showed her the bathhouse. The building was also of stone and housed several small pools of water fed by a mountain seep of warm water. It smelled just a bit of rotten eggs, but seemed otherwise very inviting. Mama Haga left a towel and a simple set of clothes and told her to take her time. When she returned to the kitchen, the older woman showed her a straw pallet in a pantry for a little privacy.

OOC

If you'd like to narrate anything between now (11pm) and tomorrow around noon, go ahead, otherwise we'll skip ahead just a bit in game time.

It had been a long day. Freshly cleaned, belly full, and the long miles behind her Lya tiredly set her things in order on the pantry floor and retrieved her blanket. Pulling it over herself she lay down on the straw and was soon asleep.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:01, Mon 22 Sept 2014.

The following morning Mama Haga got Lya lined out very early. It was still dark out, although the sky was beginning to lighten just a bit. It was now exactly a day since she'd seen the creature which had attacked the brother and sister on the road. She'd been tasked to go out into the kitchen garden and dig a basket of potatoes. Halfway through the chore, she heard far in the distance, that same bone-chilling sound the creature had made. Fig had been right. Once one heard it, one would never forget it.

The remainder of the morning went quickly with one thing leading into another. Old Mother Haga was very efficient, and she made the chores of preparing and cooking food, cleaning up dirty crockery, and washing dirty linen a rather enjoyable task. While they worked, the old matron told Lya her story. She had had five sons and a daughter who were all nearly grown when her husband was drowned in a freak spring runoff. They had decided to abandon their farm and the four older sons had enlisted as apprentices to various tradesmen. They had gone after their work and now lived in Falport, Hogship and two were in Zel. Her daughter had taken ill and after two years of struggling to fight off a fever, eventually succumbed to it. Her last son had joined the local militia and had eventually become a Deputy. He was normally stationed here at the Garrison and had arranged for her to come aboard on staff. That had been nearly twenty years ago. Now her son was leading a patrol in the mountains on the northern border of Zeland. She hadn't heard from him in several months.

It was just as Lya was cleaning up after the noontime meal that the first tremors struck. The Deputies and their men had been abuzz that day, but Mama Haga had kept Lya so busy that she'd only gotten bits and pieces... something about a few new sightings, and a warning from some monk or other who had wandered down off the high mountain to the east. The plates on the heavy table rattled and shook, and the chairs inched their way across the floor. It was over nearly as soon as it had began. Then the garrison bell began to ring!

Lya ran to her place in the pantry and donned her armor over her own clothing and then, just as she was about to just grab up a weapon decided that, all in all, prudence dictated she prepare herself just as if she were setting out on the road again. Having decided this she got her self in order, blanket and backpack, weapon belt and baldric, weapons, everything. Then she went looking to see if she could find out what was happening.

The look on Mama Haga's face spoke volumes as Lya rushed through the kitchen and into the pantry to get her things. The old matron of the garrison was all in a dither as the tremor had caused a few things to rattle off walls and a container or two to break as they hit the hardwood floor. "Miss Lya!" she exclaimed as Lya rushed back through the room on her way to find out what was going on. "Come back! Let the militia-" Then Lya was through the doorway and into the hall.

The garrison was not very full at this time. Command-Deputy Farfeld had sent out several patrols in the last several weeks as the reports of strange happenings and sightings had come rolling in. During breakfast, which had been agonizingly early, Lya had picked up bits of conversation. Among the tidbits was that Farfeld had sent to Falport for some men to reinforce the garrison while his patrols were out. The response had been that there were strange things afoot up there as well, and that men could not be spared at this time. The suggestion had been to recruit some locals. This had been the punchline, in various forms, of the joke going around the breakfast table which the few remaining men and their leaders were sitting. Once breakfast had gotten over, they had dispersed to various tasks and Lya had attacked a pile of dirty dishes with Mother Haga's endless chatter to encourage her on.

Lya had just been in the process of cleaning up after the noon-meal when things began to get a little crazy. There had only been a handful of people at the table for, what was normally, the largest meal of the day. This seemed to be a tradition in keeping with the local farming communities who ate that way as well. Lya had taken a plate of food out to the forge for Ghelm who's duties as quartermaster included shoeing horses and repairing arms and armor. Inside had been the sour-faced Deputy Honeywell - whose disposition certainly did not live up to his surname - and a few milita-men who did all of the modest amount of talking.

The bell continued to toll as Lya ran down the stone hallway to the front of the building where a doorway led into the barracks or out to the grounds below. As she opened the door, she felt the warm breeze which had suddenly come up and saw the militia-men down below scurrying around madly as they were being barked at by Ghelm who was giving orders. Farfeld and Honeywell were nowhere to be seen, and neither were any of the other Deputies.

Up on a sturdy tower in the center of the grounds stood a lookout who was ringing the bell with all his worth. From the top of the garrison's main building's steps, Lya could see out over the stone wall topped with log spikes. The farmlands lay to the north, west and south. There was smoke rising in a few places as distant barns were aflame. She could make out farmers and their families frantically working to prevent the fires from reaching the fields. Then she felt a change in the wind as the warmth fled with the passing of the sun behind a very dark wall of clouds which had just slipped over the mountains, moving rapidly.

Lya heard the sound of horses hooves and Ghelm's roar to open the gates. In rode Seeker Haymane leading a wobbly and wounded Command-Deputy Farfeld who was weakly clinging to his saddle. With them came a half dozen militia-men who were in various stages of dying, but were still on their feet.

"Close the gates!" yelled Haymane once they were through, "To arms! To defense! We are under attack!"

Lya looked again over the wall and could see clouds of dust rising from the west and north... riders approaching. As if to start things off, the nasty cloud above them streaked with lighting and pounded out a booming peal of thunder which echoed off the mountains to the east.

Lya ran to meet Seeker Haymane and asked, "What's happening? Who's attacking?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:22, Fri 26 Sept 2014.

Seeker Haymane glanced at Lya, and then looked relieved. "I'm glad to see you armed Lya, we have only a brief time to be ready, for our foes are upon us!" She pointed out over the wall. "Two patrols did not report back from last night. We rode out this morning to check on them. Men were sent various ways. We found one patrol killed to a man along with their horses... they had been partially eaten!" she said with a shudder. There was a haunted look in her eye.

"Then as we were returning, we were set upon by a scouting party of men clad in gray, similar to my own uniform, but not the same. They spoke in a language I did not understand. We were able to  escape through a hidden pass, which gained us a little time. I know not of the other patrols, but my guess is that what is here is what we have left." She turned to fully face Lya and put a gloved hand on her shoulder. "I cannot require you to fight, you are not enlisted nor volunteered, but I would ask you to fight with us... especially if you want to see another dawn."

As if to punctuate her plea, a bolt of lightning seared the quickly darkening sky, accompanied by a tremendous thundering boom, enhanced by the echoes off of the nearby mountains.

"I could use an archer," she said, pointing to the lookout tower where the militia-man had been ringing the bell. "Ghelm can equip you with a stout bow and arrows, that would be the best spot. My men are already fatigued and they'll be needed to hold the gate. Can I count on you?"

Lya searched Seeker Haymane's distraught face. Then nodded.

"So you believe me better now about the man-beast I saw? Do you have any idea...at all about why these foes are attacking? What is going on? There is something you are not telling me. I will stand and fight with you, Seeker, but I believe I have the right to truly know why I am risking my life. Don't you?"

Lya glanced briefly over the wall of the garrison in the direction of Fig's farm. Her heart ached at the thought of that good man and his family out there unprotected. Then she shook her head sadly and looked back at Seeker Haymane expectantly. She comforted herself with the thought that perhaps Fig and his family had been able to slip away to safety since farming people rose early...before the sun...and perhaps even before most would begin an attack.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 22:23, Fri 26 Sept 2014.

Deputy-Seeker Haymane glanced toward the garrison gate and then sighed. "So be it Lya, give me your hand."

As their hands grasped, the Seeker reversed an ability she almost always used to peer into the thoughts of others. She projected her own thoughts into Lya's mind. The experience was intense and condensed, much quicker than trying to explain to her all that had gone on in the weeks leading up to this moment.

[Private to Lya: I'll let you narrate the following and how Lya might have experienced this in your own words. Be as creative as you like. The images communicated to her are the following:

- Supernatural creatures have been attacking in the region. Lya sees grizzly sights of the victims of these attacks.

- Signs, smells, tracks, spore, of a very large creature was discovered recently (within the last couple of days) in the mountains, victims of all types, it kills without discrimination.

- Haymane has the Sight and shares the image of an invasion and take over of Zeland which has been troubling her recently. Scenes of suffering and oppression flood Lya's mind.
]

When the experience ended, Haymane released her hand and gave her a grim look. "I'm sorry Lya, you asked for it." She shook her head sadly and then turned on her heel and began directing some of the haggard-looking men.

Command-Deputy Farfeld seemed to have recovered somewhat. His hands glowed faintly and his voice seemed to carry as his orders were spoken. Ghelm was dispersing weapons and carrying timbers to fortify the gates. He was a grizzled veteran and acted as if he alone might prevent the garrison from being overrun. It wasn't arrogance, but a sense of confidence and stone-cold determination. His white beard swirled in the cold wind as the first raindrops started to fall.

Lya gasps slightly as Thela's thoughts are poured into her mind. Gruesome images of the victims of super-natural creatures as experienced by another person cause Lya's stomach to roil. On the pictures go, one after another. Lya, wishing she could stop them, watches helplessly as they wash past her. Signs are discovered of a very large creature in the mountains in the last couple of days. Then more scenes of horror tear at her as she sees it's victims also. Zeland is being invaded. There is suffering, oppression. Finally, just as Lya thinks her mind will break under the onslaught, the contact is broken and the pictures stop. Shaken, she looks with harrowed jade green eyes at Thela. Lya hardly hears the Seeker's words before the Deputy turned away to help marshal the garrison.

Swallowing bile she looks about her and finally locates Ghelm. Walking over to him on unsteady legs, knees loose, her normal honey tan complexion now pale, she asks faintly, "Have you a bow? And arrows? Deputy Haymane said I was to ask you for them...so I could help defend." It was all she could manage to say before she had to swallow back a new wave of nausea.

Lya hated feeling this way. Hadn't felt this way since she'd seen her friend Telin, hung by the neck for stealing from a nobleman. She put out a hand and placed it on the wall to steady herself. Her normal grace of movement had abandoned her and she did a half stumble while she waited for a response.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:07, Mon 29 Sept 2014.

The white-bearded dwarf grunted at Lya as he nodded. He brought her a finely balanced bow and two quivers of stout leaded arrows. "Hey," he said in his gravelly voice, "get sick later... now ye gotta fight! Keep yer wits about ye lass... Aim true and strike often!" He gave her a rough shove in the direction of the watch tower, much as a drill instructor might do had she been enlisted.

Men scrambled to get the planks into position on the gates. Hasty preparations continued around her as everyone had a job to do and no time to do it.

OOC: The bow has an extended range due to the cunning fashion of Ghelm's dwarven design, and is no harder to pull back and hold. The arrows have been embedded with a thin line of lead to give them additional weight. When they hit, they'll add a +2 to damage at anything farther than close distance. Up close, they carry a -2 penalty to accuracy for being difficult to nock quickly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:49, Wed 08 Oct 2014.

Lya nodded tersely, strands of her blue-black hair plastered to her sweat drenched brow.

Taking the bow and quivers she made her way to the watchtower and clambered up it.

On reaching the top she eased the straps of her pack off her shoulders and set it close to hand noting where she had put it and marking in her mind what she would do in case she had to quit the tower in a hurry. Leaving her pack behind was not an option.

This done Lya took up the bow and the arrows and inspected them closely by sight and touch.

She pulled the bowstring to test the draw weight of the bow. She made the first draw a slow one with her eyes closed to pick up how the bow acted. She made a second and third draw the same way. This done she changed the bow to her other hand and repeated the procedure. After a moment's rest she lifted the bow and drew it three times, rapidly, in succession. Switching the bow to her other hand she did the same.

That done she set the bow aside and secured the quivers to her. One she fixed around her thigh and the other she set across her back. She had to make some adjustments to her weapons belt and baldric and the frogs attached to them but in the end it came out successfully.

Picking up the bow she now repeated her previous steps but this time nocking an arrow while doing so.

After she had done all that she went from place to place around the watch tower and sighted the bow at different places and from different angles. Shortly she felt she was as ready as she could be.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:05, Tue 30 Sept 2014.

As Lya made ready, the remainder of the garrison's defenders prepared for an assault. On collapse-able walkways, just inside the wood and stone walls of the garrison, stood the half dozen men who had returned with Farfeld and Haymane. They were not in top condition by any means, but they grimly readied bows. Other militia-men who had not gone out, supplemented those who had. They were more sturdy, but mostly younger and less experienced. The rising clouds of dust grew closer until the riders were just coming into view.

OOC: Sorry, got late on me. I'll have to finish tomorrow.

Lya made sure her short sword and daggers moved freely in their sheaths and then looked about trying to see if an attack was coming from any other direction than the one everyone could currently see. At the same time she tried to gauge the size of the garrison and count how many men were in it, at least the ones visible to her.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:39, Wed 01 Oct 2014.

The garrison had been built on the slope such that traffic from three directions along the roads could be seen. The farmers in the area had laughed and joked about the "fortress", but new recruits needed to be kept busy, and the never ending supply of rocks and leg-sized saplings provided them with plenty of opportunity over the years. The walls were stone at the bottom and then inset into them were sharpened logs about the diameter of Lya's waist, and lashed with rawhide. The gate was sturdy and made from thick timbers held by very stout iron hinges which were kept well oiled.

The lookout tower was located near the center of the garrison, not far from the main building itself. There was a conical-shaped cast iron bell with a pull rope, and plenty of room for at least four archers. Today there was only one, a half-elven thief who was far, far from home and definitely out of her element. Below her, another man was ascending the stout ladder. He had a bow and a couple of quivers with him. He climbed the last few rungs and then then nodded to Lya.

"Name's Var, but you can call me 'Luckshot', everyone else does." He pointed toward Lya's weapon. "Ghelm makes good bows, take your time, you do your job and the bow will do its job." He looked over the terrain below. "It's just you and me up here," he continued with a slight coloring of his cheeks. He seemed to be a bit off his guard in the presence of an exotic beauty. "I mean, once they get close, you and I will be the only archers." He pointed out a handful of militia-men who were gearing up with mail and axes. They didn't look like they'd drilled much, and Ghelm was using several colorful dwarven phrases to line them out. Then Var pointed out another group of seven men who had swords on their hips and bows in hand. They wore mismatched armor, but it looked comfortable on them. "Those men are from up near Falport. They escort wagons through the mountain trails sometimes... there's been trouble lately. They came along just before the noon meal was served and had planned to ride on. They won't be going anywhere now."

Lya totaled them up in her head. Two archers on the tower, six more on the walls. There were the seven huntsmen and the five militia-men with Ghelm. Farfeld and Haymane gave orders and moved men around. That made twenty-three that she knew of. There could be a few more, but she didn't know everyone's faces well enough yet. There was still no sign of Honeywell, and his name had not been mentioned by anyone.

As she looked eastward toward the mountains, her sharp elven eyes seemed to detect a movement in the rocks. She waited a long moment, but it seemed to be gone. Now into view, thundering down the road and illuminated by frequent flashes of lightning came riding two groups whose numbers were masked by the dry dust rising from the roads, but which Lya guestimated to be nearly two-score, twenty from each direction. They were nearly within bow shot when they were called to a sudden halt.

Var the Luckshot nocked an arrow and made ready to fire, gauging the distance with practiced skill.

As the two groups merged, the wind seemed to surge around them all and the dust swirled. Large drops of rain began to splatter randomly around them as the sky grew darker and angrier. Thunder boomed off of the mountains behind the garrison. Finally, one gray-clad rider stepped his horse forward. He thrust his long black cloak aside and drew a foul-looking blade which he held aloft. It seemed that the sky darkened a bit more as he did so, making it even more difficult to see them. The raindrops started splashing down harder and more frequently.

"Open your gates! Do not resist or you will all be slain!" The voice of the leader was powerful and had a heavy and strange accent.

Lya gave Var a warm smile and introduced herself, "I'm Lya." Pointing to the east of the garrison she continued, "I saw movement out there. Around where those rocks are.". After looking around some more she said, looking into Var's eyes, "Luckshot, do you know where Honeywell is? I haven't seen him in some time and I haven't heard anyone talking about him. Maybe I better let Seeker Haymane know."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:58, Fri 03 Oct 2014.

Var turned his gaze where Lya had pointed, but after several moments of searching, he saw nothing. "I don't see anything Miss Lya, but that don't mean there ain't something up there... keep an eye out from time to time."

The archer then did a strange thing. As the riders came to a halt and one of them began to bellow about opening gates and killing, Var squinted one eye and held his bow out at arm's length. He did not draw however, he seemed to be gauging using irregularly spaced carved notches. "Two hundred paces..." he informed Lya quietly.

Below them near the gate, on one of the raised walkways, Command-Deputy Farfeld stood defiantly. "We'll not be opening the Garrison today!" he shouted back, "You do know that your threats will be held against you when the Sheriff arrives shortly with his men? I hear he's been in a foul mood of late... You don't want to cross him. I suggest you all turn around and ride back where you came from."  The Commander was trying to sound confident with his drawl, but all of them could here the slight quaver in his voice.

"Nobody's seen Honeywell since this morning... He's a strange one on his good days. Maybe he caught wind of this and fled..." Var said quietly as he flexed his fingers, preparing to draw and fire.

The leader of the riders raised his voice in reply to Commander Farfeld. "Open your gates! Open them now and live... Falport has fallen, your Capital is under siege. Your Sheriff is not coming, for he will soon be dead if he is not already so... Open your gates!"

Thunder and Lightning punctuated his command. Lya felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to rise.

"Well I'd hate for Honeywell to be a traitor. There isn't some back gate, hidden passage, or something else he could open to those people out there is there? If he is a traitor I mean. Couldn't that be the movement I saw out there? Him either sneaking away or sneaking back? Or someone from that bunch out there? Don't you think the commander or someone should know? I don't think any of us want to die here today. Or worse." Lya was thinking, once again, about the downside to being a beautiful woman. Being captured by those...creatures...didn't bear thinking too closely on.

In an effort to put those chilling thoughts aside Lya studied the area where she'd seen the movement while keeping an ear out to the exchange going on between the commander and the foe beyond the gates.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:03, Mon 06 Oct 2014.

"Well... there is a back way out, but we are forbidden to talk about it, especially considering what's been locked in there lately... Personally, I ain't got any interest in going to check it out, so I do my work and stay away from that particular trouble... I really doubt that Honeywell's deserted, and I doubt even more that he fled through those caves. If he did, he's probably something's dinner by now..." Luckshot's gaze never left the scene beyond the walls.

Out there Commander Farfeld replied in an icy voice, suddenly no longer quavering, "So much more the reason not to open our gates, and so we will not!"

The leader of the riders pointed his fell sward toward the garrison. "So be it, fools!"


OOC: Go ahead and roll your initiative: 1d20 + Dex Mod (normally it would be 1d6, but there are so many folks in this fight that I need a clearer distinction for order). Then narrate your first action if you would...

The soldiers are mounted and riding toward the garrison at full speed. Once they reach the walls, they may dismount and try to gain entry.  The sky is dark, the wind is blowing, and lightning and thunder abound. Very precise shots will be very tricky unless the target is fairly close... There are about forty mounted soldiers and their leader.

Lya initiative roll: 8 using 1d20+1.

Lya, knowing her limitations as an archer, decides to aim for the easiest enemy target she can find.

The thundering of the horses hooves was drowned out by the pealing of real thunder as the horsemen charged toward the garrison. Beside Lya, Luckshot released his first arrow and even at the long distance he was able to sink one of Ghelm's lead crafted arrows into one of the gray-clad soldiers. The soldier fell off his horse, which caused the horse beside his to shy away unexpectedly to its rider who also fell to the ground, getting trampled by his comrades behind him. Then Var was readying his next shot. So quickly had he fired, that he was able to get off his second shot before Lya had time to react!

The men on the walls, the remnants of Haymane's patrol, fired their first volley with little success as the riders quickly advanced. The scouting party volleyed next. They had little in the way of martial training, but were good shots and very patient. They loosed at will, when each truly felt their shots. Three more riders fell from their horses and several were struck.

Ghelm had found a place at the wall and fired a ponderous-looking crossbow. He'd dialed in the range just right and though it missed the Leader of the raiding party, it penetrated the armor of the man next to him! Command Deputy Farfeld and Seeker Haymane had their hands held aloft toward the heavens. Farfeld brought his down upon and pointed at the ground the riders were rapidly approaching. A bright line of blue flame erupted in front of the horses, causing them to rare and balk. This had the effect of slowing the charge, but the Leader of the raiders urged his mount onward which leapt through the supernatural flames and surged toward the garrison gate. Haymane's hands came down and the air shimmered along the wall, almost as if there were a very thin, watery barrier between the garrison and the attacking raiders.

The gray-clad leader pointed his fell sword at the gates as fire of his own, red and angry lanced ahead of his charging horse. The fire struck the gates with great impact and immediately they burst into flame. The archers had to back away, and the militia-men behind as well.

The large drops of rain became more frequent and the flames of both colors hissed as more lightning sheeted the sky above.

---

Sorry Lya, I should have had you roll your attack as well. Please do so now and then we'll start the next round. Don't forget to add +2 to damage rolls from your arrows. So the attack and damage rolls would look like this:

Attack: 1d20 + 1 (Dex) + 2 (BAB), Damage: 1d8 + 2

Also, go ahead and pre-roll initiative for the next round. In general, if you forget, I'll roll initiative for you just to keep things going. Thanks for indulging me here, I wanted to try a larger battle. ;-)

Round 1
================

Initiative
--------------------
Var the Luckshot  26 (wow! natural 20)
Haymane's Archers 17
NPC Scouts        15
Ghelm             11
Farfeld           10
Haymane           10
Raider Leader     10
Lya                8
Gray Raiders       7
Garrison Militia   7

Geez, even with d20 I still had ties...


NPC Var the Luckshot, rolled 19 using 1d20+6 ((13)). Attack.
NPC Var the Luckshot, rolled 9 using 1d8+2 ((7)). Damage.

Haymane's Archers, rolled 12 using 1d20+2 ((10)). Attack.

The NPC Scouts, rolled 18 using 1d20+3 ((15)). Attack.
The NPC Scouts, rolled 35 using 7d8 ((1,6,4,7,7,7,3)). Damage.

Ghelm, rolled 18,12 using d20+2,d8+4 ((16,8)). Attack, Damage.

Var the Luckshot, rolled 11,5 using d20+6,d8+2 ((5,3)). 2nd Attack, Damage.


This message was last edited by the GM at 21:29, Wed 08 Oct 2014.

Lya attack roll: 6 using 1d20+3.

Lya let loose her first shoot and it missed...everything. With grim determination she drew and nocked another arrow.

Lya initiative roll: 10 using 1d20+1.

The riders charged hard, their horses chewed up the distance between themselves and the garrison's walls astonishingly quickly. The garrison's defenders made ready. One of the militia-men did so by retching.

From below and to Lya's right side, the scouts continued to plug away at the oncoming foes. They were methodical and patient and deft with their hands to reload. Their volley took two more from their saddles.

On Lya's left, Haymane's archers seemed to have found a bit of discipline as they all fired on her command. One rider fell from his saddle and another lurched backwards, precariously bouncing on the horse's rump!

Then Var had lined up another good shot. He loosed with practice ease and the arrow streaked to its mark. Another one down!

Farfeld threw up another barrier of flame, but it was not as strong as the first. Haymane directed her men, rousing them to take heart.

Then the leader of the gray-clad riders released his spell. A bolt of black energy shot forth from his fell blade to strike the garrison's gates. They exploded into kindling! The concussion of the blast could be felt deep inside each of the defenders, causing them to gasp for breath. On they rode, now with a focus! They would soon be through the gate!

Ghelm cursed as he worked to cock his crossbow and ready a quarrel.

---

Round 2
================

Initiative
--------------------
NPC Scouts        22
Farfeld           21
Gray Raiders      19
Haymane's Archers 11
Var the Luckshot  10
Lya               10
Raider Leader     10
Garrison Militia   9
Haymane            7
Ghelm              3

rolls(4,19,4,7,9,1,19,18,7)

Scouts attack: 16, Hit!
Scouts damage: 7d8 ((1,3,2,4,8,2,8)).

Archers attack: 18, Hit!
Archers damage: 5d8((8,1,7,1,3)).

Luckshot attack: 17, Hit!
Luckshot damage:  7

Lya 2nd round attack roll: 6 using 1d20+5.
Lya 3rd round initiative roll: 4 using 1d20+3.
Lya 3rd round attack roll: 8 using 1d20+5.

Lya looses her second special arrow and again misses miserably. Sighing she nocks her third arrow and lets fly. Once again the arrow flies away...going who knows where. Lya looks at her bow suspiciously and once again considers that life as a pampered concubine could, after all, be better than this.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:23, Thu 09 Oct 2014.

Ouch! Those are some crazy low rolls! At least you're consistent.

[Private to Lya: I'll try to get caught up late tonite. I should have know it would be a bad idea to have two separate fights going on at the same time over a busy weekend. Sry.]

Once again the careful Luckshot took aim and loosed one of Ghelm's heavy arrows. It arched beyond the wall and landed hard right in the chest of one of the raiders. It sent the man tumbling backwards off of his horse. It was becoming clear now that this man beside Lya was an exceptional marksman with the longbow and that their success or failure would be in large part due to his methodical thinning of the ranks with shot after unerring shot... His movements were deft and smooth with no wasted effort. His breathing was calm and his eyes seemed almost lackadaisical when he was not squinting slightly just before firing each time. So far he was unperturbed.

The Leader of the raiding band rode directly at the blasted gate and his dark charger plowed into it, scattering the remaining splinters. Several others followed close behind him. Seeker Haymane stepped forward with the few other militia-men to repel the intruders. She was wielding a fantastic looking mace that seemed to glow a bit each time the lightning struck around them... which was very often. Lya's ears were now ringing from the thunder pounding the mountains behind her and overhead.

The closest of Haymane's Archers went down as the fell blade of the Gray Leader swept swiftly through the man, armor and all!

The battle was then fully joined as the riders poured into the yard of the garrison. Lya could see several of them leap form their horses fearlessly and land atop archers and militia-men. They were savage in their technique and several of the garrison's defenders fell in the initial rush.

The close range turned to the archers undoing as Ghelm's arrows seemed much too heavy for closer range combat. Haymane's archers as well as the Scouts all seemed to have a ill-fated volley with few landing solid hits.

It was the few militia-men who'd been standing with Ghelm who stepped forward to try and plug the hole. Of the five of them, four scored devastating hits which dropped their foes lifeless to the ground. But still the battle raged and the defenders seemed diminished.

Lya fumbled with the heavy arrows, dropping one over the side of the watch tower. Thankfully, Var beside her seemed much too focused bringing down the enemy to noticed her difficulty and fumble. In frustration Lya glanced around and by chance noticed something glinting shiny in a flash of lightning on the slope where she'd seen movement. Then it was gone and the sounds of battle pulled her attention back to they fray...

---

Switched to d6 now for initiative. With the modifiers I only had 2 ties... go figure. That's not intuitive for me, so thanks for reining in my poor experiment.

Round 3
================

Initiative
--------------------
Var the Luckshot  9
Ghelm             8
Haymane           7
NPC Scouts        6
Haymane's Archers 6
Raider Leader     5
Gray Raiders      4
Farfeld           3
Garrison Militia  2
Lya               2

rolls(3,3,4,2,4,6,1,3,1)

Luckshot attack: 21, Hit!
Luckshot damage: 10

Haymane attack: 20, Hit!
Haymane damage: 7

Raider Leader attack: 18, Hit!
Raider Leader damage: 9

Gray Raiders attack: 19, Hit!
Gray Raiders attack: 1,3,6,2,2,5,4,5,3,1,1,5,4,5,1,4,5,2,3,2 (1 down!)
Gray Raiders attack: 5,5,6,1,5,2,4,4,6,6,5,1 (3 down!)

Militia-men attack: 16 18 Hit!
Militia-men damage: 6,6,3,5,5 (4 down!)

"There IS something out there Luckshot. I just saw something shiny glinting in the sun in the very same place I saw movement before."

Looking out over the battle which seemed very likely to end with all the luckless defenders dead, maimed, or captured, Lya swore viciously and let loose yet another arrow, aiming at the leader himself this time though she knew it was hopeless. Maybe she'd distract him at least though she doubted it...

10:34, Today: Lya rolled 6 using 1d6+1 with rolls of 5. Round 4 Initiative Roll.

10:35, Today: Lya rolled 20 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 17. Attack Roll Round 4.

Var didn't turn around to look. "You must have good eyes Lya, there's not alot of sunshine just now..." As if to emphasize that a very loud booming of thunder pounded just then. Though the sky was dark and very angry, there was still enough light to see by and Lya seemed confident in what she'd seen. Luckshot's eyes were drooped lazily and he appeared as if he were bored of the action around him, but that simply was not the case as leadened arrow after arrow streaked from his bow with uncanny accuracy worthy of his name, for his shots seemed to defy natural laws and fly farther and faster than one might have guessed. It must have had something to do with his state of relaxation that bordered on the verge of sleepiness that he was able to drop his arrows just where he wanted on almost every volley. "Stay sharp Miss Lya," he said.

Below the watchtower the scene was grim. The rain had begun in seriousness now and the giant drops quickly muddied the dry ground. Horses slid and men alike as the battle was joined. Haymane's archers abandoned their bows now that the raiders had penetrated the garrison gate. They maintained the highground of their platform which gave them some slight advantage were they not facing such superior numbers.

With a ferocious shout of defiance, Seeker Haymane engaged the black-caped leader of the raiding party. He was the biggest threat they faced if he could throw terrible flames and dark energies from his sword. They parried and fought with style until the Seeker got in a very good stroke! Her opponent staggered backwards a bit as if dazed by the blow, but it was only for a moment before he was back again, swinging with that fell sword. The moment's hesitation was all that Ghelm and Lya needed to line up great shots.

Ghelm's bolt took the raider leader in the midsection, a shot that would have put a normal man on the ground, but their adversary pulled it out and flung it aside! He pounded hard on Haymane's armor with stroke after powerful stroke, driving her backwards as she slid in the mud. Miraculously, she was able to hold on and when her foot finally caught against a rock she gave no more ground!

Lya's shot followed then, somehow penetrating the armor. It went deep. Again the leader broke it off and kept fighting, but there was serious blood pouring from the wound! The leader looked her way and locked eyes with Lya for a brief moment...

Almost in unison then, were let fly the arrows of the remaining archers and the scouts, joined by the unerring Luckshot. More than a handful of the mounted raiders met their end...

But then the raiders rallied in the rain and booming thunder. The remaining men of Haymane's party were laid low as were a few of the more experienced scouts.

The militia-men were so hard pressed that they began to flounder in the mud and rain, and simply gave ground as the remaining raiders pushed them towards the watchtower...

---

Round 4
================

Initiative
--------------------
Haymane           8
Ghelm             7
Raider Leader     7
Lya               6
Haymane's Archers 6
Var the Luckshot  5
NPC Scouts        5
Gray Raiders      4
Farfeld           3
Garrison Militia  3

rolls(1,2,4,4,4,5,1,3,2).
(LS,Scts,Hay,RLead,HArch,Ghelm,Farf,GRaid,Militia)

Haymane attack: 18, Hit!
Haymane damage: 5

Ghelm attack: 16, Hit!
Ghelm damage: 6 1 Down!

Archers attack: 17, Hit!
Archers damage: 8,7,1,6. 3 Down!

Luckshot attack: 24, Hit!
Luckshot damage: 3
Luckshot attack: 18, Hit!
Luckshot damage: 3 1 Down!

Scouts attack: 15, Hit!
Scouts damage: 6,4,1,8,7,3,1. 3 Down!

Gray Raiders attack: 16, Hit!
Gray Raiders damage: 5,6,3,5,1,4,6,1,1,5 (5 down!)
Gray Raiders damage: 1,6,3,6,5,3,4,4,1 (3 down!)

BTW, I'm only listing the hits, don't think all the rolls were this good. However, it was a particularly good day for rolling!

08:34, Today: Lya rolled 6 using 1d6+1 with rolls of 5. Round 5 Initiative Roll.


08:34, Today: Lya rolled 6 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 3. Round 5 Attack Roll.

Lya cursed as she loosed another shaft, this time at the throng of raiders at the foot of the watchtower, but managed to miss.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:39, Thu 16 Oct 2014.

As the rain began to fall in sheets, driven by a wind that rushed from the north, toward the sea with a fury of its own, the melee inside the garrison continued to be fierce and more desperate. Two of the last raiding soldiers to near the blasted gate seemed to hesitate before riding in to join their gray-clad brethren whose uniforms had become splattered with mud. As a pair they turned and began to flee, out into the storm and away from the battle.

The leader of the raiding party swatted aside an attack by Seeker Haymane and roared in a loud voice something which was unintelligible to the non-raiders. Lightning arched from the sky and struck the ground which immediately began to shake and tremble! Whether the earthquake was a product of the storm or powerful magic from the adversary, none would ever know! Everything shook violently for several terrifying moments and then it stopped.

"If those two get away, they may bring reinforcements Lya... I've gotta bring them down." The way Luckshot said it, matched the almost sleepy look on his face. There seemed to be no doubt he could do it, nor fear that he might fail, just simply a statement of the gravity of the shots involved, and what must be done. He pulled his beautifully simple bow, paused, breathed one puff of air and loosed into the deepening gloom and rain. The first of the leadened arrows was still in flight and the uncanny archer had the second readied and drawn. The same procedure followed as the riders neared the edge of the bow's range. One final portion of an instant was spent in aiming and then he released his second shot. Just as he did, a thrown sword from somewhere below flew just past Lya and clipped her marksman companion in the shoulder. Blood flared instantly, although she was confident the wound was shallow, however it was just enough of a distraction to throw off his shot. Luckshot's luck had just run out...

Farfeld, who had been chanting and out of the main fighting, now stepped back in, wielding a long-handled mace which appeared to glow in the failing light. His blow struck the armor of the leader, sparks flew, but the enemy still retained his footing!

The Scouts left their place of advantage, which had become much diminished now that the fighting was taking place within the walls. They drew their swords as they cast heir bows aside. Hand to hand, they were formidable. Two raiders fell to their blades before they were overwhelmed. Lya thought she saw one of the Scouts kneel and then rise groggily before heading for the garrison gate. It was difficult to blame him.

Ghelm fired one last shot from his crossbow, yelling in rage as he narrowly missed skewering the leader with his powerful crossbow. He picked up an axe and waded into the bloody fray, trying to work his way toward the leader.

The remainder of the bloodied militia-men fought valiantly to defend their leaders and their garrison, but were then overwhelmed by the superior numbers.

Meanwhile, Lya let her next shot fly. The leaded arrows were difficult to handle at close range and so her shot did not arch properly, especially with the much diminished trajectory. It hit at the feet of several fighters. One looked up at her and grinned a horrible grin which spoke volumes about what might happen to her if the garrison was truly overrun. He lunged toward the watch tower and began to scale the built-in ladder!

Seeker Haymane swung her weapon again at her foe, the gray-clad leader of the group. This time it hit! With a screeching of metal, Haymane's weapon bit deep, but with seemingly inhuman toughness, the man came on still...

Possibly inspiring his followers to do the same.

And they did. Now only thirteen of the gray soldiers remained, but it was enough to suffocate remaining resistance.

---

Round 5
================

Initiative
--------------------
Raider Leader     9
Var the Luckshot  9
Farfeld           7
NPC Scouts        7
Ghelm             5
Garrison Militia  5
Lya               5
Haymane           4
Gray Raiders      3
Haymane's Archers

rolls (3,4,1,6,3,5,2,4).
(LS,Scts,Hay,RLead,Ghelm,Farf,GRaid,Militia)

Lya looked down at the mass of raiders at the foot of the watchtower and saw one of them start to climb up. The look on his face told her of his sickening intent towards her in words that, though unspoken, were crystal clear.

For a split second she contemplated firing her next shot at the man but then she turned at let fly at the second of the fleeing raiders hoping to down him so he couldn't bring in reinforcements.


08:50, Today: Lya rolled 4 using 1d6+1 with rolls of 3. Round 6 Initiative Roll.

08:50, Today: Lya rolled 15 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 12. Round 6 Attack Roll.

OOC: I'll let the GM decide what, if any attack / damage modifiers are to be added in due to the raider being attacked from the rear.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:38, Mon 20 Oct 2014.

Luckshot quickly realized that further attempts would risk much for an unlikely gain if he tried another shot at the fleeing rider. Instead he turned and fired down the ladder at the ascending raider. His awareness was uncanny, he seemed to know where everyone was at on the battlefield below. He risked a quick glance where he'd been wounded before he nocked another arrow and prepared to shoot again.

Lya took her desperate shot anyway. Her arrow flew from her bow into the rain and gloom. She felt good about the shot, but was not rewarded by any sort of scream, at least one she could hear over the din of battle, and perhaps it had struck... something.

Farfeld was engaged with his glowing weapon. Haymane fought valiantly, and at one point simply reached out her hand and pointed. From the hand burst a gout of flames similar to those which Farfeld had raised earlier.

Ghelm also advanced, cleaving his way through the gray-clad raiders. He picked up several very nasty wounds in so doing.

The leader of the raiders shouted something just as he struck Commander Farfeld. The blow buckled him, and he dropped to a knees. The glowing weapon disappeared from Farfeld's hand as he struggled to remain conscious.

"Surrender!" the leader demanded.

Provoked beyond endurance Lya cried out her defiance to the brute below.

"Even in hell will I not surrender to thee forsaken brute! Even though the gods themselves forsake me I WILL not surrender myself to thee, thou which art the spawn of filth and wretchedness. I am Lya. Lya Fargazer. By my troth I swear upon my own name that I will gainsay thee this. That thou art a craven and misshapen thing unworthy, even, of the name creature."

With that Lya, forgetting she was a thief only, and knowing only that the struggle was desperate beyond even the hope of hope, pulled forth her blade and flung it full into the face of her enemy.

01:12, Today: Lya rolled 7 using 1d6+1 with rolls of 6. Round 7 initiative roll.

01:12, Today: Lya rolled 18 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 15. Round 7 attack roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:15, Tue 21 Oct 2014.

Sheet lightning shattered the dark skies and, like the voice of some God which hearing the invocation of a simple thief, punctuated the boldly declared words with that which was most primal... the stone splitting sound of a thousand angels as thunder erupted from the mountain slopes.

The foul leader looked upon the elf-girl atop her tower and she saw its eyes glowing red, simmering in rage! The fell blade pointed at her and just as the terrible spell which would end her existence was about to be unleashed, Lya's blade struck true! Right into the mouth of the gray-clad leader it sank, stealing whatever command he was about to give. Beside her came a low whistle from a sleepy looking archer. "Well done Miss Lya! Very well done!"

The leader of the attacking party dropped his dark blade and clutched at his throat. It did little good, for Lya's blade was protruding from the back of his neck. Deep red flames surged from his eyes as he dropped to his knees. Seeker Haymane, nearly dumbfounded by what had just happened, swung her weapon, sending the demonic leader's head rolling across the muddy courtyard... just in case.

The remainder of the attackers then showed their true colors, and like all mercenaries, when the man who makes the payroll stops breathing, they quickly exit the scene. A few of them actually made it out of the gates and onto horses as Var's arrows rained down upon them. Of the forty which had assaulted the walls of the garrison, only seven were able to ride away.

The storm did not let up however, and instead the rain pounded even harder. The second quake hit right then, and both Lya and Var had to scramble to keep their balance on the rocking watchtower!

~~~~

Epic freakin' ending Lya! Perfect roll too! You got the initiative and a great attack roll which was just enough to match the leader's high AC... Wow, waaay cool. Rock'n'roll!

Take 1 XP for surviving, and a bonus XP for eating your Wheaties this morning! Not how I expected the scene to play out, not at all, but a pleasant surprise!

Oh, and please make a Dex check for me... (d20 roll low!)

Elation at the sudden and unexpected turn of the battle quickly made way for consternation as Lya found herself on a most unstable surface. Luckily she was able to keep her balance as the storm raged about her. Looking about she reached out to steady Luckshot should he need it.

16:03, Today: Lya rolled 4 using 1d20 with rolls of 4. Dex Roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:10, Tue 21 Oct 2014.

Between Lya and Luckshot, was a beam which rose up as a center support of the roof over the watch tower. The beam was actually bending, but it was the only thing the two of them could hang on to. After what seemed like hours of vigorous shaking - but was in reality only moments - the creaking, swaying and cracking stopped.

"Let's get down, before another one comes along Lya, I don't think this tower can survive much longer!" Luckshot slung his bow over a shoulder and dropped onto the ladder. Looking up at Lya he smiled, "I'll try to catch you if you fall, but I'm an archer after all, not a barbarian... be careful!"

He went down ahead of Lya, politely helping her as needed to find footholds where the rungs had splintered in places during the earthquake. When they reached the bottom, Var patted her on the shoulder awkwardly. "Nicely done Lya. That was either incredibly brave or incredibly desperate, but sometimes one begets the other. Why don't we see if we can help out?" He did not seem so sleepy anymore and he seemed to have suddenly noticed that the woman with the stringy wet hair was in fact very beautiful.

Seeker Haymane was kneeling not far away over the still form of Commander Farfeld. He looked very pale. She seemed to be praying quietly and had her hand resting on his chest while her eyes were squeezed shut in concentration.

The dwarven veteran, Ghelm, was going from body to body of the downed raiders to make sure they were dead, or if there were any that had survived which might be taken into custody. He had a nasty gash across the top of his overly large nose and the blood dribbled down into his beard. He also examined the downed archers and militia-men to see if any of them could be helped. His time with each was brief however and his jaw had a grim set to it.

They were all soaked to the skin now and there was water actually running atop the muddy ground. Rain pounded and lighting flashed and everywhere, everywhere was the echo of thunder.

"Thank you Luckshot but it wasn't much that I did really. Your skill with that bow did much more good than I. What's more, I believe that the true hero of the day is over there praying over her fallen commander." Lya said, pointing to the half-elven Deputy Seeker. "When that gate burst apart and she ran up and confronted the leader of the raiders by herself that was courage." Nodding to Luckshot she gave him a smile before moving away.

Lya paused to look over at the slope where she had seen the glinting earlier. She looked the area over trying to take in as much detail as possible. This done she moved on.

Lya knew she was less than hopeless in giving aid to the wounded so she forbore doing so lest she actually do more harm than good.

Walking over to the head of the corpse of the raider leader she put her booted foot on his decapitated face and pulled her sword from it's mouth. The squelching sucking sound it made as she pulled it out elicited no emotion from Lya. She looked intently, for a moment, at the face noting the color of hair, eyes, and skin and the shape and demeanor of it. When she was done she nodded to herself and continued on her way.

Her next stop was the raider leader's body. Squatting down next to it she first wiped her sword clean on it's clothing and reinserted it in it's sheath on her back. She then began a minute inspection of the remains. First the armor and clothing were inspected by sight and touch with special attention to finding any cleverly hidden pockets or pouches. Then she leaned back slightly on her haunches and surveyed the now semi-bared body taking note of it's every detail. Lastly she peered closely at the sword the leader had used taking care not to touch the vile thing lest it be cursed or possessed of some evil will.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:38, Thu 23 Oct 2014.

Luckshot smiled a grim smile. "Ghelm's arrows were a big help. He's a very good quartermaster and smith, and can still hold his own in a tussle it appears. I'm going to take a look around outside the walls. Maybe I'll take him with me... help him keep his mind off his mates for a bit..." Luckshot went over to where the last of the scouts was kneeling among his fallen friends, openly weeping. Var touched him on the shoulder and they spoke briefly. The scout reluctantly nodded and then with a show of determination, grabbed his bow and followed Luckshot through the gate into the pounding storm.  Tremors continued, but not as strong as the two quakes had been.

Looking up on the hill was fruitless for Lya. The sky was still very dark and it was raining hard now. The lightning caused everything to flash and glint, confusing what she had seen with what she might see.

As she examined the corpse of the leader of the raiding party, she saw immediately that he was not human, nor elf, nor any other race she was familiar with. Whereas those under his command all appeared to be humans with chiseled features and deep set eyes, the leader was much different. His skin was grayish, his hair dark and course. He had a number of... nobs or spikes at various locations on his body, mainly on the joints like elbows and knees, but also on his cheekbones and chin. His hands were very rough and his fingers were black clawed. His teeth were slightly pointed and there were far too many of them in his mouth. When she removed his helmet, she saw two short horns protruding above each ear.

She wiped off her blade and sheathed it, but just as she did so, an icy feeling shot up her spine. It could have been the wind causing her a chill now that the battle was over and she was soaked. Her clothing stuck to her like a second skin. It could have been some involuntary reaction to some errant stimulus... or it could have been that she heard a voice behind her faintly whisper, "долази ловац...".

Her examination of the body turned up a few noteworthy items. There was a small pouch of gold coins which appeared to be freshly minted in the Zeland currency. Also she found a silver ring with a deep red ruby. There were a couple of strange runes on either side of the setting. Around his neck she found, under the breastplate and next to the skin, a string of scores of teeth, some of which appeared to be human and others much, much larger. There was a long, wicked-looking dirk belted at his waist. Finally, folded inside a small satchel, Lya found a crudely drawn map.

The leader's blade remained laying in the mud and Lya, in spite of herself, found she was looking at it often...

OOC:
27 gp in the pouch.
Please make a Deathray save and add your wisdom modifier for me (d20-1 TN>=12)

19:57, Today: Lya rolled 17 using 1d20-1 with rolls of 18. Deathray Save.

OOC: I actually did a +1 modifier instead of a -1 modifier on the dice roller by mistake so I corrected it here to reflect what it should have been with the mod you prescribed.

Lya looked quickly around to see who spoke behind her.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:02, Tue 28 Oct 2014.

She whirled and looked, but saw no one behind her. Momentarily her eyes scanned the hillside behind the garrison where she'd seen... something, earlier. Nothing. Once again drawn to the fell blade of the leader of the raiders she turned back. This time a feeling of revulsion came over her, almost a nausea of the mind. Lya averted her gaze lest she be compelled to pick it up. (made your save)

The clothing the raiders wore was of poorly spun wool cloth. It was heavy and fairly stout, but the weaving was loose and the sewing very hasty. The gray color was very similar to the uniform of Seeker Haymane, but bore a strange insignia. Crudely embroidered on the chest in black thread was a symbol showing a knot with seven loops. In the center of the knot was a rune and within each of the loops - each having an eerie similarity to a noose - was a symbol.

Then from within the stone of the garrison proper came a loud scream... it was the garrison cook...

This was really getting to be too much. It seemed to Lya she was going from one rescue to another. She was a thief not some paladin on a holy mission to save the universe from itself. Turning to the body of the fallen...whatever it was...she casually slipped the ring from off it's finger and scooped the coins out of it's pouch slipping the loot into her own pouch. Fair was fair. She had killed it after all.

Oh all right she thought to herself. Time to pull out the heroine once again and put her delight in acquiring pretty things aside for the moment. Standing, she turned and ran to where the sound of the screaming cook was coming from.

The scene in the garrison kitchen was a grizzly one. There was a pool of blood on the spotless flagstone floor coming from a body which had been sliced by a very sharp weapon. The other occupant of the room whirled around as Lya entered, wielding something shiny.

After a moment of sorting things out, the scene became more clear. The "victim" was one of the gray-clad raiders. The "weapon" was one of Mama Haga's good kitchen knives, and the "assailant" was Mama Haga herself, standing with wild-eyes near the kitchen's open brick oven.

"Lya! Are you alright?" she asked in surprise. "This... this... he came in the back door! Is it over? Is the fighting over?" She was very disraught. The kitchen door that led out into the garden was still wide open and rain illuminated by random bolts of lightning could be seen outside.

Lya nodded at Mama Haga.

"Yes I'm fine. As to whether or not it's safe I honestly couldn't tell you but it's seems that, for now, the fighting is over."

Nodding reassuringly she stepped out of the kithchen area and went in search of Ghelm so she could return the bow and the remaining arrows. She'd had enough of this garrison and it's troubles and just wanted the horse promised her so she could get on her way and recover her loot at the bridge.

The lightning seemed to come less and less frequently, but the dark clouds remained overhead and the rain continued to pour down from above. The ground quickly became saturated and could not absorb the moisture as quickly as it was coming down. Small rivers began running downhill as the water continually sought a lower place. When Lya returned to the courtyard, the survivors were taking care of those who had fallen in the fighting. A few had survived, but their injuries were grievous. Those who were wounded, including Command-Deputy Farfeld, were taken to the barracks to be tended. A lone militia-man was spared to climb the watchtower and keep a lookout, but they all knew that should the gray-clad riders return with reinforcements, well... that was a thought best not considered. Regardless, Ghelm had insisted that they post a lookout, event though the extra set of hands was badly needed.

Lya slip-slopped her way through the mud and water to find Ghelm who was arriving back at his smithy, which also served as the garrison's armory. He gave her a respectful nod and a rather dwarfish growl of approval. "Nice throw Lass. Ye probably saved us ye know... Well done. Very well done. Why don't ye give me those and get yerself inside. I'm sure Haymane'll be needin' help with the wounded. We'll dig graves in the mornin' after the storm breaks. I misjudged ye Lass, forgive me."

"Misjudged me? How did you misjudge me? I haven't done anything heroic. I took a desperate chance and it worked. That's all. And I came here so I could get a horse. Nothing more. That I was inside the garrison when we were attacked was just chance. Please. I don't deserve any credit. Here. Here are the bow and the arrows."

Lya handed the items over to Ghelm and went searching for Haymane in the barracks. Crossing all the muck was not improving her temper any. Nevertheless she raised her chin with new determination as she attempted to avoid the worst of the mess on her way to the barracks.

Ghelm took the items and considered them carefully. He glanced at the line of dead bodies which had been covered by an old piece of sailcloth which was weighted down by rocks to keep the wind from blowing it off. He shook his grizzled head. A smattering of scars were visible in the dim light. He looked older and more tired than she remembered.

He grunted in dwarven fashion, "That's what a hero is Lass, someone who takes a chance, takes a risk... Ye can call it chance that ye was here, but I don't be believin' that. Nope, seen it too many times. Deny it if ye will Miss Lya, but today ye're a hero. I took ye for a selfish, pretty face with an inherited arrogance, but I was wrong about ye. Ye're more than that... a lot more."

The veteran nodded his scarred skull and then took the bow and arrows into the armory. A gust of wind blew Lya's drying hair around her face, and the chill of it could not touch the warmth of the dwarf's words.

Lya entered the barracks where the wounded were being cared for. Seeker Haymane was among them along with Old Mother Haga. The still form of Commander Farfeld lie wrapped in blankets, but he had very little color in his countenance. There were blood-soaked rags everywhere. Several buckets of crimson fluid needed emptying and refilling. The stench of battle's aftermath filled the barracks and was not even masked by the sputtering, smoking fire in the stone fireplace.

"Lya, would you lend a hand here?" Haymane asked. The woman's eyes were hollow and she looked completely exhausted, near collapse actually. There was a look of both need and trust in her eyes which communicated much more than her simple plea.

Stupidity. Sheer and utter stupidity. Rolled up and kneaded together with a generous dollop of foolishness. What was she doing here? Now she was going to play nursemaid to a bunch of strangers who, because of their interference with her life, had dragged her into their mess. It was pathetic. She was pathetic. Worse. She was powerless, greedy, and pathetic. All this. For a horse. And given what she'd seen so far any illusions she'd had of it being a proper horse were rapidly evaporating and she could totally forget any ideas she might have had about their being any kind of tack involved or any of the other gear that usually went with a horse. Hating herself she went to Haymane's side and mustered a sweet seeming.

"Of course." she said simply.

Then off she went looking for things to clean up messes with. Messes of blood. Puke. Other less mentionable body fluids. The next several hours involved a lot of cleaning. Of floors. Cloths. Bodies. Anything else that came to hand. Then there was the boiling of water. And fetching of water. And carrying said water to the sick-rooms. And so it went...

The rain continued through the evening and into the night and the dreaded tolling of the warning bell did not sound. That was only a vague nagging in the back of everyone's mind however, for there were more immediate things at hand to deal with. It was very late into the night when Seeker Haymane finally collapsed onto a cot. The fireplace had been constantly fed and the chill of the unseasonably cold rain was fought off, leaving the barracks hall nice and cozy. Old Mother Haga had brought cauldron after cauldron of broth and bread. She was beginning to totter on her feet as well. Those wounded who could sleep did so now, and those who were in pain had been coaxed into lethargy by the last of the Seeker's Divine influence.

Lya carried the last empty pail back to the kitchens. Mama Haga was resting on a stool with her head rested on an upturned palm. She wasn't quite asleep because her other hand was gently stirring a pot on the hearth. Of course she'd been doing the action for so many years now that perhaps she could do it in her sleep. "Get a bit of rest now Lya, I'll need you in a few hours when we start the new day. Thank you." The poor old woman didn't even open her eyes.

Lya retired to her cot in the storeroom. The day had been utterly exhausting. The rain continued to wash down around them. Only briefly did anyone mention flooding. It was simply too much to think about right now. Just as Lya was about to fall asleep, she heard Mama Haga in the kitchen shuffling around and exhaling loudly as she hoisted the large pot off the hearth and packed it out of the kitchen. Her footfalls could barely be heard moving down the hall, and then... down the stairs.

Lya went to sleep and spent the few hours she had dreaming of being slowly backed into a corner, bit by bit, by crowds of people moaning to her like a pack of zombies. Help us Lya they begged. Do this for us Lya they groaned. We need you Lya they moaned. Then they were on her, their hands grasping tearing at her future. Filling it with their needs. She woke in a sweat and a start and stared about her in the dark.

The next day was filled with errands and more work, and every time Lya thought to leave, something new came up that the garrison needed her help with. By the time she'd eaten supper that night, she'd been exhausted and fell onto her small cot nearly asleep before she landed. The next day was the same, and before she knew it, a week had gone by.

The funeral service for those who fell in battle was a short and somber one. The men were buried in neat straight rows, and large, smooth boulders which had rolled off the mountains behind the garrison over the years, were used as headstones and grave markers. The sky had been overcast, but it was no longer raining. Flooding had been an issue in a few places, but not as bad as several in the garrison had predicted. No reinforcements had arrived, in fact it seemed odd that no one had come to check on them.

A few of the farmers in the region had come to visit the garrison over the last several days, asking in humility for bandages or other needful things. Seeker Haymane had ordered that they be given what little the garrison could spare, and she tried to talk with the good men, at least a little, before they returned home. Commander Farfeld was still alive, but barely... hope for his recovery was slipping away.

Lya woke up and about the only good thing she could say about it was that this was the day she could get safely out from under the garrison's eyes without raising questions.

She went out back and drew herself some water in the dark and took it to her "room" and had herself a shivering cold rag "bath" before dressing herself in her clothes. After that she carefully packed her things, making sure they were set up properly for her delayed journey in search of a proper city in which she could resume her quest for pretty baubles and glittering gold. A girl had to think of her future and she certainly didn't want it to be as an occupant of one of those lonely graves out there.

All packed she looked about her and then set off down the hallway away from her room hoping to get out of here before yet another request for aid, help, or whatever delay came her way. A breakfast would have been nice and a proper hot soak in a tub as well. Best, she thought, to even forget about trying to get her promised horse though it certainly would have been welcome.

Her mind set on the road ahead Lya speculated as she automatically fell into old patterns of thought. Things outside the garrison were changing fast she knew. Palpable were the feelings she had of impending events and avoid them was top on her list of things to do as she made her way quietly out the garrison main building and on across the main "yard" in the early predawn silvery gray light. She may not have Haymane's "sight" but she had that innate sense all thieves do of danger. It was only when a thief's greed overcame them that this sense failed...as it had failed her friend and he'd ended up dangling from a rope, his legs spasmodically kicking out the last moments of his brief life.

Lya's "danger sense" allowed her to get out of the garrison proper while the watchtower guard was using the stone privy. They did not have enough men to double up, and so were taking turns at the watch... but sometimes nature called at inconvenient times.

Moving swiftly as she dared, she reached the intersection which would lead her to the bridge in about an hour. The night was cool, but not as humid after much of the rain had soaked into the ground or evaporated. The hogs were sure happy though. They grunted and rooted in the mud of the week-old puddles. The bridge was about three hours of walking to the northwest from the intersection.

Very nearly as soon as she was outside the gate Lya "went to ground". Though she was, of course, no ranger she did, nevertheless, possess some skill in making herself scarce.

Her plan of action was to make for the bridge and to retrieve the blade and the bauble but not at the price of being discovered or even taking a risk of being discovered. This plan, though the most immediate, was really secondary to her real goal of being quit of this forsaken corner of the world. If she had to lie flat on her belly for an hour at a time to avoid being seen then so be it. She could be patient when pressed by need. When pressed by enough need she could be many things. If she had to make her way to the coast and teach herself to swim that, too, was more acceptable than being found by those gods-rotted raiders.

She kept an ear and eye out before, behind, and to either side as she went along. She even paid attention to her feet in case they should feel the rumble of cavalry or tromping infantry. Paranoid she cast a jaundiced eye at the sky now and then just in case it too wanted a piece of her hide. Finally she forced herself to be wary of even a silence if it were too long.

As she went along a little voice inside her, petulant and childish, kept wishing someone had noticed her departure but she resolutely ignored it and kicked herself for a sentimental fool.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:47, Fri 07 Nov 2014.

From her position under some brush, upriver from the bridge, Lya had a fairly good view downstream and of the road beyond in both directions. It was perhaps an hour before daybreak, maybe less, and it was now or never. In her quick but quiet trek back here from the garrison, she saw that the raiders had been busy. There were fields which had been ignited but blessedly dampened by the heavy rains so the entire southern portion of the general growing area hadn't gone up in flames. There were a couple of cottages burned and barns. There were dozens of dead swine in the road, which as soon as the sun came up, would begin to swell and eventually stink.

As of now though, when there might have been some early morning traffic, there was none. Those who had survived the raiding party were huddled in their meager homes and farmsteads. Nervous and frightened. A few milk cows bawled for relief, and draft horses nickered in anticipation of an honest day's work after the chaos of the terrific thunderstorms the day before.

Lya watched and waited for the right time, and tried to keep blinking so as not to fall asleep...

Lya gave one last look around her before setting off slowly downriver. She kept to the brush and any over available cover as she went and only moved from one covered position to the next after she had considered the best way to get there and the cover it provided. She kept her senses alert going so far as to dunk her whole head in the river for a moment before moving on to freshen her mind a bit.

In this way she made her slow and cautious way down to the covered bridge she remembered so well and slipped silently under it. Moving to the place where she had last sat when the Deputy Seeker had first questioned her Lya reached into the water and groped about for her treasure with the intent of widening her search area to allow for the passage of time and the river's flow though she had taken a little care not to just drop it into the water willy-nilly and, in fact, had taken a rock and placed it over her treasure in an effort to lodge her bauble and blade in place.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:39, Mon 10 Nov 2014.

The water was murky now where it had been fairly clear a week ago. Lya's slender arm searched around in the water for the rock which hid her precious bauble and blade. After several moments of searching, her arm began to get cold. It was then that she noticed the river had risen several inches during the terrible deluge they had gotten, and then went back down. The muddy film on the rocks was still moist. Had her treasures washed down the river?

Refusing to believe that what she had carefully cached away, and had risked coming back for, could be gone, she plunged her hand into the water, more frantic this time. The rock was not there... and evidently, neither were the bauble and the blade...

Just as her distress was about to get the best of her, her hand felt the top of the flat stone. She was nearly shoulder deep now. Then, there, beneath it she found the objects of her search. The bauble and the blade were hers!

And just as she pulled them out of the muddy river water, she heard a whispered voice behind her... "...Фино поклон за Хунтер, али то није за вас..."

As the water rushed under the bridge while Lya knelt at it's side, her arms wet and dripping, she looked quickly over her shoulder to see who was there fright and then anger crossing her features.

The whisper sounded like the same kind of speech as she'd heard at the battle site. A strange speech and one which, to her, was unknown.

Quickly placing her bauble and blade on the river-shore she rose while at the same time whipping her sword from it's place in her back-sheath.

The quick smooth motion of Lya's draw and turn belied the jumble of feelings she seemed to have balled up inside of her. Below the gentle arch of the covered bridge, she looked up the bank, scanning to the south where a little over a week ago she'd been approached by a Deputy-Seeker, Haymane. There was nothing before here in the direction she was looking. Then, she seemed to hear from somewhere in front of her as she held her blade at the ready, a whispered voice, almost like a sigh, "...ти си његов роб..."

Lya was alone, of that she was sure, unless some unseeable thing stood on the riverbank before her. Faintly, in her mind's eye she began to see again some of the images which Seeker Haymane had shared with her. The smell of blood assailed her, the sounds of screams and battle filled her ears, her mouth was filled with the taste of rotting food and the feeling of something vile caressing her skin followed, like the touch of some fat Sultan... and the whisper, echoing through her mind continued its command over and over and over, "...његов роб...његов роб...његов роб..." Finally, the gruesome images around her periphery faded and the sounds of the running river and the smells of the grassy riverbank returned. The sensation of caress diminished, but did not leave entirely.

[Private to Lya: Refer to msg #125 for the images Haymane shared with you. Also, I'm ready to move you in the game, so if you'd like a parting shot at this post go ahead, otherwise I'll end your prologue here.]

Lya shivered with revulsion at the images and the ghostly touch. Shaking her head she gave one last look around and sheathed her sword.

Bending down she picked up her bauble and looked closely at it while rubbing it dry. She turned it this way and that before hanging it around her neck and letting it nestle down in the warm place next to her heart.

Lastly she picked up the sword and looked it over. She tested it's weight and balance before swinging it in a few arcs and passes about her. Satisfied she dried it off and passed it between her belt and her trousers until she could get a back sheath made for it.

Nodding to herself she climbed out from under the bridge and up the bank before setting out once more down the road.

With the sheathing of her sword, the last hints of the very discomforting feelings melted away. Wasting no more time out here in the open, she gathered her treasures and headed back into the cover of the brush along the riverbank, far upstream. When she stopped to catch her breath she examined the beautiful bauble which she'd hung around her neck. Since she'd put it on, she'd felt much better than she had on her way toward the bridge. She felt safe and ready for whatever new trials the Gods seemed set on throwing at her.

As she held it in her hands, she tried to figure out how the locket opened. It was very well crafted. There was a single heart-shaped ruby entwined in delicate golden leaves and the chain from which it dangled was fashioned such that each link was shaped as a tiny flower.

(You may try a DEX or INT check - roll 5d6 and roll low! for possible success...)

The sword was also well-crafted, but was bereft of anything fancy. It was however, very functional and very sharp. The steel was of great quality, and the crosspiece and pommel were sturdy and strong. Even after over a week of being submerged in the river, there was no rust on it and that meant someone had spent hours oiling the metal until all the small pockets, too tiny to see, had been filled. When she handled it though, Lya got a strange sensation down her spine and it seemed almost as if she could hear the whispering of that strange voice, "...није за тебе..."

17:11, Today: Lya rolled 10 using 5d6 with rolls of 2,3,1,3,1. Check to see if can open locket.

Entranced by the locket, Lya forgot about time and focused intently on the puzzle which would allow her to open it. She turned it over and over in her hands, absently touching the heart-shaped ruby, and letting the flower-shaped chain links slip through her nimble fingers. Those fingers finally detected the slightest movement of the ruby in a certain direction. Going on that, within moments she'd figured out how to rotate the two halves of the locket in opposite directions while depressing the ruby. She held her breath as it opened to reveal its secret.

Once the locket was opened, the ruby fell into her palm, and that is when Lya could tell that it was no ruby at all, but an incredibly ornately carved crystal vial with some deep red liquid inside. There was a very small stopper on the back which she thought maybe her fingers might be able to open, should she choose to. How this had been crafted, and by who, was a total mystery to the young thief. Then, she noticed a bit of paper folded beneath the ruby, nearly as thin as an onion skin, and the slightest bit damp. The same instincts which had helped her to open the locket, told her not to mess with the paper until it had dried after being submerged in the river for over a week.

Feeling at least a little triumphant, Lya took to the road once more, being careful until she thought she was far enough away from the garrison and any farmsteads which might have been alerted to her absence. Finally, she began to make good time as she headed toward Falport, perhaps to catch a ship which might take her... somewhere else.

~~~~

Thus ends the Prologue for Lya. Chapter 3b will continue her story as she journeys onward in search of treasures and trinkets...