Coming Soon.

Terrignis Mare

Eastern Capital City: Slalo

This message was last edited by the player at 17:04, Mon 21 Dec 2015.

    The Sun set behind the Vulnarian mountains as a small skiff sailed into port. The trip was long, picking up the select individuals. All given an curious letter of invitation to the Island of Terrignis Mare, more specifically, the capital city of Slalo. The letter was the same to each of those aboard, minus the captain of course...

quote:

Whispers of your name have reached my ears.
The King of Slalo, Lord Terrian the Second extends his hand to you, stranger.
You are not the first, you are not special. Many invitations have seen sent out, but so far none have been a correct match; he hopes you shall be different.
I am Evergard, the acting hand of the King as his father has recently passed. You are Invited on a trip to The Long Isle to partake in a test of sorts.
There is reason to believe your bloodline may trace back to that of Salutem royalty.
This may be a surprise, im sure, but we wish to collect all the final ties of the ancient bloodlines and bring them home.
Your presence upon the vessel would be greatly appreciated.
Though this may come as a surprise to you, the process is quite simple:
We have in our courts those gifted with incredible intelligence, and latent magical
abilities. We simply need some blood, and a name. We will take it from there.
While you are here, some time will need to pass while we trace bloodlines, we hope you understand. you will be given a royal crest. Simply show this to any place for food or shelter and they will be forced to oblige.

Regards stranger,
-Grand Advisor, Evergard Upton.

  The letter was sealed with a curious signet and wax, but was no doubt the signet of royalty of Slalo. The cold, salty splashes were beginning to pull on the last nerve of its passengers who over their time on the boat, had become slightly acquainted, for better or worse. Bright lights in the middle of the city closed in. "That be th' Batanguinis" the captian said pointing with frail fingers. The Goblin captain rarely spoke, but was the only man with a ship crazy enough to pick up strangers who caught the Kings attention. "Make slaves er all sorts of folk fight in there. Big attraction. Ye aughta check it out. But from the outside." He added with a chuckle.

  The sun had set and the city was illuminated with torches, the Batanguinis it seemed was a beacon, seeming to almost illuminate the whole city by itself. With a few unsatisfactory creaks, the ship docked and dropped its plank on the dock. The small, surprisingly agile goblin darted along the ropes landing near the plank with a piece of paper on a board. "Last stop ye miserable wretches" He held out the piece of paper with writing utensil. "Sign off th' name. If Ya dont, they'll assume ya died on my boat. Bad for business." He jutted it toward them agian. "Name sign, then get off. Lucky you, man who sent letter is at the big death pit, by enterance. Dont make him wait. You'll look like assholes."

As instructed when they first boarded, there would be a man waiting for them near this "Batanguinis" to give them more information. Once they signed the plank, they were the shipwrites burden no more and were stuck on Terrignis until the archivists finished their research.

Character name and brief visual bio, along with any dialogue you choose. Keep in mind, movement is based on your post, unless you say you're going somewhere, you'll stand on the dock, like an asshole.

This message was last edited by the player at 20:44, Wed 23 Dec 2015.

With a crude and dirtied hand, the ragged stocky man signed his name on the plank in scrawling handwriting: Fletch all though this was not his birthname, it had been more true to him in the past few years than any other title the biting mercenary had carried. Now apparently he carried a new title. A royal one at that. The half shaven Archer almost scoffed thinking on it. He, a creature of noble blood? Bah. The Archer was barely worth the single gold coin he carried in his pocket. The letter reeked of a trick but that royal crest had been a pretty little gift. He walked off the stinking docks heading for the great batanguins eyes open for the man described in the odd letter. The longsword on his hip bounced cleanly and softly with each step. The weapon was new. Along with the longbow at his back. The last job had brought him a strong sum of coin. It had been spent well. Who thought hat slaying a poacher would have been so profitable? Fletch smiled remembering the shot worth 50 gold. Now he was here, far away from the bloodgangs and forgotten names. He liked it that way. A change of pace and a ticket to a new land were more than the archer could ask for. But still, this letter felt too good to be true. The tiny hand of suspicion raked at the back of his mind, but the archers curiosity was too hungry to not be satiated. Besides, what did he have to lose?

The next to step up was, by contrast, a very clean and refined man. It seemed as though every step he took towards the captain was planned before he took the first. Each foot was placed with great thought. The man moved with swiftness one might not expect in such weighted armor. He was in front of the captain, but instead of taking his pen he pulled one out of his pouch.

Mitsu Hattori

Written in the same precision as his steps, clearly practiced and perfected over many many years. He took a step back and put his left hand on the hilt of his katana. It had a dragon carved into the end of it and the rest of the dragon carved down the sheath of the sword.
He simply bowed to the goblin and began walking down the dock. He was far from the northern isle of Cliffshore. Perhaps it was fitting that he might find fulfillment so far from home where he never quite felt whole.

He looked over to Fletch as they were walking down the dock, "I saw you go by Fletch, I am Mitsu Hattori. You seem like you could fair well in combat. What do you say, want to see what we can gather about this Evergard before going to meet him?" {Gather Information}

{21:33, Today: Secret Roll: Mitsu Hattori rolled 6 using 1d20+2.  Gather information (Terrignis).}
This message was last edited by the player at 15:48, Thu 24 Dec 2015.

In reply to Mitsu Hattori (msg # 4):

Fletch stared at the strangely dressed man. Seemed a bit stiff, but he kept his trap shut in that sense. Usually did him more good to be quiet. "You got a letter then too, huh? Guess these royal folks couldn't keep it in their pants. Seems weird though, don't it? The whole thing? I'd say we can ask, with these fancy types we're probably expected soon." Fletch glanced around the city. It wasn't like any place he'd set foot before, but again, that curiosity peaked. Something new. Something different. He decided to follow suit with the swordsman, who seemed rather welcoming.

13:51, Today: Fletch rolled 19 using 1d20-1 ((20)).

This message was deleted by the player at 20:04, Thu 24 Dec 2015.

Fletch expected at least a smirk from his, "Royal folks couldnt keep it in their pants" comment, but Mitsu kept his demeanor, not even a blink from the perhaps overly disciplined man. Feltch let it roll off and not bother him though, "That seems to be the case," Mitsu added surprisingly, "However, let us learn as much as we can about this 'Evergard' fellow, perhaps others like us are here." At the end of his statement, he spun on his heel and walked straight for the closest cluster of people he could find, leaving fletch without even a chance to respond. "No yeah, you go that way ill head over here." He said with a painfully cocky tone, pointing off in the opposite direction. Noticing a group of men unloading crates from a ship not far from them, and decided to head toward them, looking over his shoulder to make sure and not lose the, in fletch's words, "stick-up-his-ass samurai". Now out of eachothers hearing range, they talked to the locals, to figure out at least a little bit about what was going on...

[Private to Mitsu Hattori: Mitsu walked toward a tavern just as the owner must have finished lighting the torches on the outside of the building. A group of drunks sat on a table outside, laughing loudly. As he approached them, one of the men leaned back, eyes wide open. "Holy shit, an ethnic fellah." The men stopped with their laughter as Mitsu stopped a safe distance away, institutionally through teaching out of arms reach. Voices carry further than blades. On of the drunkards leaned a bit closer, "DO YOU SPEAK COMMON TONGUE SIR." he said, painfully making each word as clear as possible, assuming Mitsu couldnt understand him... as if speaking loudly would help... "Yes I speak the same language, and more sirs, I have a question-" he was cut off again by the last first fellow who burst out in a excited laugh, "Ayyyy he speaks! what can I do for ya, ya big ol fucker?" The samuari began to feel irratation, but with a few deep breaths removed it from his body. "Evergard, what do you know of him and this search for royal blood." The second drunk sat laughter fading he took another drink, "Everguard is basically the king round here, the king he aided before died not long ago, and the REAL king is a little kid, doesnt do shit. Still in mourning or whatever. Baby." He took another sip. "Ay, dead dads are tough to get over asshole" the second man said with a sharp elbow. "But I have no idea about this royal blood shit fighter, best ask the 'Pig God' yourself." He said with a deep laugh and the two men turned their backs to the samuari, leaving him with more questions. It seems however the drunkards werent the best choice for information...]

[Private to Fletch: Had to make your text red so you could see it in a private text:
 Fletch walked a short pace down the pier. "Hey, pardon" he said to the workers unloading large crates from a ship.  Oh how he wondered what was in them... His thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice of one of the large workers. Exceedingly musclular and bald, with sleeve armed tattoos, "Oi, lil' guy. Go away. This isnt a place for a man of your... stature" The men laughed at fletch, not much smaller, but small enough for a bully to pick on. Fletch laughed as well, "Lil guy..." he said amid his chuckle, "Thats one of the terms I didnt hear from your mother the other night, you chrome domed fuck." The silence was deafening. All laughter ceased and they all stared at eachother, fletch it seemed was the only one still smiling... Until with a burst of energy...

Laughter. All of the working men burst out into laughter and punched the shoulder of the man at whom fletch took a jab at. Another one of the workers spoke though the tears of laughter "Oh you clever stranger, I like you ya cheeky bastard. Do you need something?" He asked, wiping off his hands, it seems he won his favor with a risky retort. Giving the man with a brused ego a wink, he turned to the friendly worker. "Just got to port, some fellah named 'Evergard' requested us. Royal blood or some shit. Know anything about this?" the worker tossed the now dirty rag onto a distant crate and placed his hands on his hips "Yeah... Everguard is the Kings advisor. Not long ago, our King died one night, leaving his fourteen year old son, his only heir to take the throne. Being a child of his age, he knows little about running an empire such as this, so Evergard seems to have stolen his voice, almost like a puppeteer. Big fat bastard, some call him the 'Pig God', though not to his face. Dont ever say that near a guard, you'll be killed on the spot. As far as the blood thing goes, yeah; Ive seen many people like you get off small boats like that. Dont come back, so their either further inland or got on Evergards bad side. Either way, they need to check you lineage to see if you match blood of royalty. Long ass time ago there was a civil war or something, lots of royals ran, fled to differnt isles. IF they tracked you down, its a good chance you could have some gold in your veins, kid. You go to the arena in the middle of town, thats where all the 'letter kids' go, and then speak with some big-wig. You may get a chance to meet Evergard yourself. Do yourself a favor though, stay on Evergard and the laws good side... they deal with their version of the law... Harshly to say the least" The group small talked for a moment and after a short time, fletch turned with a wave, two out of the three waved back.]

The two men met together almost in the exact same place they parted to share what they had learned, as they waited for the remaining people on the ship to get off so they could go learn more from its source...
This message was last edited by the player at 20:07, Thu 24 Dec 2015.

Mitsu returned to the spot where he parted ways from Fletch. He arrived a bit early after only finding townsfolk who were quite inebriated. He simply placed himself on the ground and meditated, although some who passed by may have mistaken Mitsu for sleeping. Upon hearing the footsteps of Fletch approaching he rose up and greeted him. "Ah, you have returned." [Private to DM Shaun; Fletch:  "I hope you were more fruitful than I. The only folk I found were quite... off. on the plus side I did find a tavern we must visit at some point. Seems they have some potent drinks. So what did you learn?"]

I step up to the edge of the ship, at the gangplank to shore.  Covered in my new armor I stop for a moment, distracted my the scene of the city at night.  I am lost in thought for a moment.  My cloak and hood covers most of what I wear.  [Private to DM Shaun: Only with good spot check: My armour looks slightly discolored, showing stains of where blood affected its oxidation.]  A large shield covers my back showing some kind of emblem facing away from the others.  [Private to DM Shaun: This will be good to be on dry land again.  It does not look much like home here.  The city looks dark and foreboding.  The torches remind me of the flames I watched before I left.  My home, my brothers...  one day he will pay for this.  The people accepted him with loving arms, while my bothers were slaughtered or forced to recant.  At least I am alive, I wish they were here... I wish I could have done more to help them.  I will be able to now though, no longer will I be an untrained civilian, who only knows how to read books and pontificate about philosophy.  I will learn the art of my fathers, the art of my people, I will learn the art of war.  How I will do this in this new land I have no idea, but I only have God to trust in now.  Only he knows my pain, and he must be my defense.  Deep down the question gnaws at me... how did He let this happen? but I quickly tell it to shut up, I am alive am I not? He saved me? I was unwise, I was blind. GAA! These thoughts entangle me again, I must return to the task at hand... yes the task at hand.  Like they said in our military, mission first...]
     I return to my current task at hand.  I motion for the writing utensil. "Wo soll ich unterschreiben? Bleistift bitte, danke."  I write my name in well written script, not purposeful like Mitsu, but clearly something I had plenty of practice in.  After I sign, I shift my pack better on my back and exit the boat.
     I walk toward the men who left ahead of me now waiting by the gang plank.  I speak to them through an accent, "Hullo, you look like you got the letter I did as vell.  I also received one.  You think it is real?  I think it seems strange.  Would you wish to travel together to meet our contact?  I think we are better off together in a city like this."  I mention little more about the letter now, for I share their skepticism over it.  We seem to agree on this.  I speak to them over others, seeing their minor familiarity from our long voyage as an asset in trust over the others who inhabit this foreign city.

{OOC: Would you all prefer I use Aqua or Yellow for my speech?}
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:52, Mon 28 Dec 2015.

In reply to Mitsu Hattori (msg # 8):

[Private to DM Shaun; Mitsu Hattori: Fletch looked at the warrior a moment or two before speaking. Guess all those manners hadn't done him too well. "We'll I learned an earful. The man we're to meet is running the show here. Speaks for the king, who is just a boy now. But he ain't liked too much it seems. Locals got a nick name for 'im, the "Pig God". They say not to say it near a guard though. I'm not liking this, seems that there have been so many of us they even got a name for us too. "letter kids" something rotten's going on with the arena. I think we're too far tho to leave, My bets they know we're already in town and we don't got much of a choice. I'm thinking it's best if we make our way to this arena, but keep a tight grip on that blade o' yours."  ]

Mitsu gives Fletch a long nod as he listens to him. [Private to DM Shaun; Fletch: "Hmm, that is interesting. I have a bad feeling about all of this as well. I think you're right, we best be getting to that arena. I will be sure to keep a firm grip on my blade."] He then looks over to the man that was approaching who had come off of the boat as well. He was intrigued by the accent, not quiet being able to place it. "Hello, I am Mitsu Hattori. I myself am a stranger to these lands as you are. Where do you come from and what do they call you there?" Every word seemingly picked out carefully and thought out before the first was spoken. "Yes, I received a letter as well. Although, I do question it's sincerity as you do. How about you join us, sir Fletch and I were going to make our way there and try to find a few more answers."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:32, Tue 29 Dec 2015.

My eyebrows raise at the term sir, almost ignoring all other things said. "Sir? Did I hear you correctly? Is 'Fletch' here a knight?"  I inquire, somewhat incredulously, yet calm and somewhat suprised.

After a moment I reply,
"I am honored to make thy acquaintance Mitsu-san and that you would allow me to join your party.  Thou dost carry thyself as one practiced in the exercise of the weapon you bear."  With this last statement I place my hands together as if I was praying and bow slowly while still looking at Mitsu. Still covered by my hood.
"I am called Aviram in my homelands, in the fatherland, Vaterland.  Hast thou heard of it?
From whence dost thou hail?  Is it one of the Isles?  And thou Fletch? What about you, art thou far from thy home?


[Private to Mitsu Hattori: As a sign of my understanding, I volunteer my homeland, in the expectation and understanding of courtesy, to which I am sure Mitsu is accustomed.  Something evident in his purposed actions and his dress, clearly a man who understands noble customs.]

[Private to DM Shaun: I am going to add a series of Knowledge checks to my post soon. It is a huge part of my class variant. I will likely know much about my fellows here, by my wide array of knowledge.]
This message was last edited by the player at 04:43, Tue 29 Dec 2015.

In reply to Aviram (msg # 12):

Fletch turned to face the cloaked man, trying his best not to laugh as he answered the first question. "no, I'm no knight. I got a bow and a blade and I'm skilled with 'em, that's about it. You're another letter bearer then. Apparently tons of us have already blown through to the arena. Not much else to say."

After stumbling though introductions and light small talk, three of the men made their way to the Bataniguius. A the towns main attraction and a gladiatorial arena of sorts. Being a strong-stones throw away from the pier, it didnt take them long to reach its stone steps. It as almost immediately when their boots hit the stone slabs leading to the entrance did the three notice a few things. The roar of crowds, must have been hundreds of people, the clash of steel, though it began to quiet down, the smell of blood, sweat, and burning flesh. All these made one of them slightly uncomfortable, but they marched onward as to not show fear or hesitation.

Though it was night, when they walked the short tunnel into the opening, it was bight as day. Massive braziers on towers were lit aflame, as well as torches placed throughout the area. around them were seats carved into stone. It seemed as if this whole coliseum was once one stone and with such craftsmanship and detail chiseled down into what the pit was now. though around the ring were seat, none of them were being used, every man woman and child in the area were standing, wither it be to shout insults or cheer on their favorite fighter. Thats when their attention was suddenly drawn to the bottom of the pit. Without warning, large fires in the deepest parts of the pit went out catching the three men off guard, while two of the men simply leaned back and prepared for danger, Mitsu in particular stood is ground and simply crouched slightly, hand on the hilt of his blade. It was then they realized he was not the best man to surprise with a practical joke...

With fires down, they could rest easy seeing more clearly into the pit. Well, as easy as one could feel after what they saw...
Two fighters remained standing, covered in burns and cuts. Dead bodies littered the ground. there must have been a dozen. All the while outside while they walked slowly in freedom, these men were killing eachother. A bead of sweat formed on the young clerics head, this was noticed by Fletch. "Oh relax kid," he said, being as reassuring as fletch could be, "Some people have unique ways of entertaining themselves." "Its not zat, zat makes me uncomfortable..." he said pointing down to the men, holding his hands together in silent prayer "look." Fletch and Mitsu looked closer... all the men were... chained? From the looks of it, men were chained in threes, no more than six feet of chain for distance, being forced to fight for their lives with two other men with no means of escape. The men fighting, they also noticed, were not accomplished fighers, some were large, that was true, but others were very thin, or pale. They were not used to fighting, with the exception of the two men remaining. Wither it be luck or skill, they fought eachother, not wanting too, but because they were forced into the pit. "Many enter, One leaves." a voice said from beside them.

This startled the men and they turned quickly to see who it was and if they were about the be mugged... or stabbed...

"You received the letter, yes?" The man asked. He was no 'Pig God', this man was thin, covered in elegant clothing of bright reds and gold. Fingers covered in rings with precious gems and light hair slicked back, relieving an elaborate design on his forehead, beginning from his nosebridge and ending above each eye. The design resembled a tree, art style looking much like that of elfish. "Whos askin" Fletch said in retort, grasping his knife behind his back. "Oh yes my apologies my friends," the rather thin man asked, "I come on behalf of ser Upton." This eased their minds and with a cough to cover the sound of  sheathing blade, fletch let his arms dangle at his sides again. "We were told Evergard would be meeting us." Mistu put plainly. The man, who now stood in brighter light inhaled though his teeth raising his eyebrows and rubbing his hands together, as if to sound surprised as well as apologetic. "I am sorry he is otherwise occupied at the moment. There was also an...'incident' with a receiver of a letter, much like yourselves that demanded he not be out in the open with stranger. Being a man of his standings, I hope you understand, you will meet him shortly, I assure you." The men were slightly disappointing as well as curious as to what happened. A snort of laughter cut the momentary silence. "Whos to say we're safe?" Fletch said in a mocking tone, tilting his head to the side slightly as if to frighten the thin nobleman. He didnt even look up from the ground. He simply smiled, "That would be unwise as it would be unfortunate, you think I am here alone, that is by design. Titulari, show yourself." Slightly to the side of the man, out of the shadows emerged a monster of a man. Standing a nearly seven feet tall, yet slender and completly covered in armor and with a frightening sword, no doubt custom made for his fighting style. From markings on the sides of the armor, as well as around the neck, the three could bearly see markings. As if he switched armor for this occasion. Most uncortably about this 'Titulari', his weapon was unschethed, as if ready to kill at a moments notice. And it wouldnt be hard for him to do so... his armor matched the redish color of stone behind him acting almost as a camouflage though they peered into the holes in the mask, they saw nothing, only heard the sound of deep exhales...
"Dont mind him" the nobleman said, "That sword was out before you drew your dagger, scruffy." Fletch's eyebrows frilled in anger. Scruffy? thats a new one...

The man stepped closer, not fearing them at all. It was as if he was certian the bodyguard could defend against anything, and easily kill all three men leaving him without even a bloodstain... the men kept their hands open to see, simply to avoid a swift death. The man quickly studied the three, stoping at Mitsu, standing straight, disciplined. Honorable. He nodded and reached into his front pocked. "You, what is your name?" "Mitsu Hattori" He replied with a bow. With each inch he grew closer to the man with his bow, Titulari's foot slid ever slowly behind him, arm arching slightly. He was preparing to dart forward and cleave the samurai should he attempt to harm the nobleman. As he stood straight again, the bodyguard slid his foot back into a simple standing position. He was highly trained indeed. The nobleman pulled out a round, silver item, roughly three inches tall and a half inch thick, pressed with the signet that was on the seal of their letters, the emblem of Slalo. "With this badge, you may go into any establishment for food or rest, simply show them this and you will be given what you ask for without question." Fletch looked between the two men, "Why not me or Avi here?" he asked, slightly confused and upset that he wasnt chosen. "Because scruffy, this man holds a decorum and looks least likely to attempt to sell it for prostitutes or what-have-you." Fletch held out his index finger, mouth open ready to defend himself... But then lowered his hand and raised an eyebrow with a slight nod. Made sense.

The man, with a suspiciously large syringe collected blood from the men, as well as their names and send them on their way back to town, away from the smell of blood and bright lights. walking back toward the tavern Mitsu found, Aviram was the first to speak, "Vat do we do now? Simply wait for them to test on our linage?" He then turned eyes to Fletch, "Please refrain from calling me 'Avi' again." he added with a firm tone. Just as Fletch was about to say something cocky, they heard a great rustle from the very ship they came on. All eyes turned to the vessel.

They saw the captian, nimble as ever darting from all parts of the ship, small items falling into the water as he swung a small club at something. Getting closer they heard he was shouting. Common must have not been his first language as words uncommon to them flowed out of the painfully obvious upset captain shouted, "Boreíte chamilá kommáti ton skoupidión. Poios eísai esý pou tha tolmísei na krýpsei makriá sto ploío mou?!"[Private to Mitsu Hattori: The gobllin shouts in Rhyfellion: You freeloading piece of garabage. You dare attempt stow away on MY ship?!] Aviram stepped forward, placing a hand next to his mouth as he shouted, "Sir, Are you alright? Dost thou require assistance?" The goblin turned his attention to Aviram and pointed his club. "This is part your fault! Almost blow it, almost lose pay because of freeloader!" he shouted as he continued darting about clubbing at something with amazing speed and dexterity... Wouldnt want to fight that guy in small quarters. With a final dive he hit the deck of the boat, and rustling was heard, finally, with a powerful shove, a fourth man was shoved down the plank onto the dock holding his head, as it had seemed to be the captains target all the while. The man turned, arms open attempting to explain, only to be recieved with his bag tossed into his chest with surprising strength for a small goblin. He continued to shout insults in his native tongue as he kicked the plank down and began to sail away, cursing and shouting all the while until he could be heard no longer. The shocked man stood in silence until he turned to the three men who watched the events unfold. After moments of silence, Mitsu was the first to speak, "Are you well sir?" "Yeah, 'the hell was that?" fletch added.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:57, Thu 07 Jan 2016.

Mitsu takes note of the long pause for any response from the other member of their voyage. He takes a step forward to make sure something has not gone wrong. Looking at the man he says in a slightly raised voice, "Sir, are you alright? Do you speak the common tongue?"

"Yeah, yeah Gorrum know common." said Gorrum, mutters as he rubs his head as he sits on the ground.  You notice that all of his cloths and his backpack are made of animal hide coarsely stitched together from different hides.  He is roughly 4 feet tall with long stringy black hair and black beetle eyes.  Slowly opening his backpack, Gorrum beings to take inventory of this things.  "Choppy , throwy, throwy, mug,....."  Gorrum's mumbles get quieter as he takes a moment talking to himself. As he finishes rummaging through his bag, Gorrum suddenly remembering someone was talking to him jumps up and looks at the three. "Gorrum was doing nothing wrong! Was only taking a quick nap!"  Gorrum explains as he goes about putting the backpack and hooking a very shiny spear to his back.  "Are you the ones who be giving Gorrum food?? Was told letter said there would be food."

Mitsu looks at Gorrum with a curious look after seeing he is much shorter than he assumed from behind the shadows. Looking down at the crude creature he answered his question, "No, I don't have any food. The captain called you a free loader. Did you get a letter as we did?" He looks to Fletch and Aviram, "Speaking of food, I could use a meal and a stiff drink." Holding the badge in his hand he took a moment to take a closer look at it. Looking back up, "And this gets us everything for free!"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:28, Sat 09 Jan 2016.

Gorrums's eyes flash greedily towards the badge for a moment before flickering back to Mitsu.  "Gorrum has letter; Mud elves have readed it to me" Gorrum says as he reaches into his armor and flashes a paper quickly before returning it.  He takes a quick look at Mitsu's companions before nodding and saying "yes, yes to food! Talk more there."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:19, Fri 08 Jan 2016.

In reply to Mitsu Hattori (msg # 17):

fletch looked at the strange small creature, holding back a less than courtious facial expression, but a drink sounded good as anything else. "I've shared drink with worse company. Why not?"

My reaction is similar to Fletch, holding back certain facial expressions, being unfamiliar with this new individual.  I hold my arm out slightly, covered like my face with a large burgundy hood or sleeve in this case.  Feeling somewhat distrustful already and now compounded by the atrocities this culture encourages, I question our new visitor.  "Vait, before he comes vith us, I want to see his letter.  And would he not need to submit his blood for testing before he vent vith us?  I think it would be in this goblin fellows best interest to see that man for his blood to be tested first."  I speak to Mitus and Fletch a moment separately, [Private to Fletch; Mitsu Hattori; DM Shaun:"It is If the captain vould have lost his pay for zees, Vhat vould ve lose for letting him use the coin vithout authority to."]  "...I also have some serious questions vith the nature of our 'invitation.'  Do you see it?  Are you sure those vere slaves in zee arena of could they perhaps ve others like ourselves who vere found to have blood 'impure' for their 'noble causes'?  I question if those men were slaves or if they were 'failed' invitees.  I do not think they are vorthy of much trust.  I think it could be the ploy behind all these letters of nobility.  I am sure the gladiator arena is a lucrative business."


[Private to DM Shaun:
Rolls:

note: add +1 to all knowledge adventure checks, I added an extra pt to it I had left over.

I consider to myself as we walked and were talked to at the arena by the civil servant and his imposing guard.  I also consider Gorrum after we meet him. Can I tell what sort of marital abilities they have and how trained they are in them? (Class and level etc.)
00:40, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 15 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Adventure), on emmisary of ser Upton; ShQ.
00:39, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 18 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Adventure), on Titulari; ShQ.
00:37, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 4 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Adventure), on Gorrum; ShQ.
00:37, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 5 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Adventure), on Fletch; ShQ.
00:36, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 5 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Adventure), on Mitsu; ShQ.

note: rolls here are in newest to oldest.. ie the natural 1 and recovery were for emissary for ser Upton.

I consider the speech we just heard from the emissary of ser Upton and this goblins claims.
00:43, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 14 using 1d20+6.  Sense Motive, Gorrum; ShQ (is he lying).
00:42, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 18 (successful recovery, ie failed to sense motive, but did not receive wrong sense motive) using 1d20+6.  recovery for critical failure.
00:42, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 7 (natural 1) using 1d20+6.  Sense Motive, emmisary of ser Upton; ShQ.

I consider to myself all the knowledge I might have about this island and its ruling class.  Perhaps it will shed light on what this letter is all about? Or the denizens that inhabit this Island? Or perhaps on this Islands geography will explain the lifestyle and development of its people?
00:58, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 3 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Geography), on Terrignis Mare; ShQ.
00:57, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 10 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (History), on Terrignis Mare; ShQ.
00:57, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 16 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Nature), on Terrignis Mare; ShQ.
00:56, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 21 NATURAL 20! using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Nobility & Royalty), on the Nobility/Royalty that this island is led by; ShQ.
00:55, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 5 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Nobility & Royalty), on the Nobility/Royalty that this blood line is tied to; ShQ.
00:51, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 7 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Local), on this city/arena; ShQ.

Shaun: A big focus of my class is knowledge and stray arcana... I even have a lore ability like the bard.  I am sure this will give you plenty of work to do. My apologies if it is too much, but I missed addint the rolls last post lol. 0:) If you want, we could wait to do these last set of rolls until the next post.  The last set being the ones all about Terrignis Mare. In fact, do that for sure, I can copy them to my next post, but I will keep them here for now.

and the final roll, for next time:
01:16, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 14 using 1d20+1.  Bardic Lore, Terrignis Mare; ShQ.

LORE CHECK!

functions exactly like Bardic Knowledge, but uses my class level instead :)

Bardic Knowledge
A bard may make a special bardic knowledge check with a bonus equal to his bard level + his Intelligence modifier to see whether he knows some relevant information about local notable people, legendary items, or noteworthy places. (If the bard has 5 or more ranks in Knowledge (history), he gains a +2 bonus on this check.)

A successful bardic knowledge check will not reveal the powers of a magic item but may give a hint as to its general function. A bard may not take 10 or take 20 on this check; this sort of knowledge is essentially random.

DC Type of Knowledge
10 Common, known by at least a substantial minority of the local population.
20 Uncommon but available, known by only a few people legends.
25 Obscure, known by few, hard to come by.
30 Extremely obscure, known by very few, possibly forgotten by most who once knew it, possibly known only by those who don’t understand the significance of the knowledge.]
This message was last edited by the player at 06:17, Sun 10 Jan 2016.

With the... Unexpected introduction of their new comrade, the group didnt know how to speak as Gorrum spoke in third person most of the time. Aviram took it upon himself to guide the small goblin to the opening to the pit for gorrums blood to be drawn. With so many people and lights, Avairam almost had to drag him to the royal man, like a mother dragging her child though the toy store.

"Hey you survived" Fletch stated as he hopped off a barrel next to mitsu, who sat on the ground, legs crossed and back straight up, motionless. Gorrum rubbed his arm with a large frown upon his face. "You didnt not tell gorrum, gorrum would be stabbed with thin daggar..." He grumbled. Aviram tried again for the... who  knows how many-ith time that it was normal size for humans and didnt anticipate such pain. "Sorry little mate, hows a mug of ale sound to make up for it?" Gorrums black eyes lit up, "Yes yes!" he shouted, "That would make up for being stabbed and having blood stolen from Gorrum!" Fletch laughed, looking down at Mitsu, "Hey cmon mate, food time" he said as he took an excited goblin into the nearby tavern. Mitsu did not move, leaving Aviram standing looking down at him, worry beginning to flutter for his health. "Uh.. Mitsu sir?" he sheepishly asked. No responcce. Aviriam paniced and dropped to the ground, "Mitsu? Mistu?!" He began to shout as he started to remove his helment to check for a pulse. Moments before the clerics hands made contanct, another hand darted up, stoping Avi's movement. It was Mitsus. Inhaling deeply he began to stand, brushing off his bottom. "I was.. Meditating. Be calm small Cleric."

with a sigh of relief, the two went into the tavern to join the others.

Inside the tavern was quite full, drunken men littered the tables and parts of the floor, bartenders and maids tried to keep up with the demands and the women did their best to avoid getting their rears pinched by a drunken sailor. Mitsu walked up to the Barkeeper, a younger woman, no more than her early 30's "Ma'am we would li-" He was cut off, "yeah yeah we'll get to you... stranger" she said looking him up and down foreign to the samurai culture, his armor was interesting to her. Fletch enjoyed the atmosphere, he looked throughout the chaos and one thing piqued his interest, a smaller man, being yelled at by two large men at the same time. He giggled to himself, that little guy was going to get his ass beat. Aviram Held on to Gorrum tightly as he attempted to investigate everything, it was safer for all of them if they stayed together and Gorrum didnt even seem to notice he was restrained he was so exited. He had never been in a town like this before. Mitsu held up the silver emblem given to him by the royal man. "Food and ale please, At your leisure, you seem busy." The women stopped in her tracks and looked at the emblem, and then the other 4 men. "Oh goodness im sorry," she said suddenly becoming clumsy, dropping a few mugs to the ground. Her hand darted above the counter and pointed at a table close to them, "there take a seat, please," she insisted, as if to sound as accommodating as possible.

Getting Gorrum to sit in a chair is like trying to give a cat a bath. Goblins dont like sitting and waiting for food, Aviram noted. As they sat, Fleth scanned the room for the small man who was about to get his ass handed to him by the large men, but he was nowhere in sight. the who large men however were in an all out brawl, ending the line of sight with the two being thrown out the window next to them in the heat of it. Suddenly the clink of a shotglass hitting the counter pinged his ears and (most of) the table looked over. Several overturned shotglasses with the addition of the last shot were placed in front of a man turning a lute, the same man who just moments ago was about to be force-fed his own kneecaps. "Y'evr hear of an 'Intelligence Quotient'?" the man asked, not looking up from his instrument. With silence as his answer, he continued. "A- fer the sake a time we'll say IQ is the base intellegence of a man. Average being near the hundreds. Anger a man, it drops 10 points, Throw im into a rage, and you can drop it neary a 30 points." The three looked at him, confused. He stopped tuning his guitar and looked up, "thats how you create a retard my friends, easy to manipulate and suddenly they forget what you did to their sister."


The man, appearing not late into his twenties had long, wild hair that covered his ears and mostly unkept facial hair. The only thing setting him apart from a homeless man was a necklace with a beautiful cloudy-white jewel at the end, and wrappings up his forearms, but he still had a certain 'appeal' to the ladies it seemed as they would give him passing looks and he would wink back with a grin. "Names Simon, Pleasure." he stated grabbing the stool from a passed out drunk on the counter causing him to crash to the floor, unawakening.

"Aye see ye got one of them letters eh? Might ol simon be sitting with a future big wig? Oh blessed day for me" He said in a mocking, yet joking tone. "We didnt invite you to sit here." Fletch said plainly, dissapointed he didnt get to see him get beaten up, "Im well aware archerman, Im just sitting for sober company. Every man and almost woman here is sloshed, is it too much to ask for a conversation with a fellow soberman?" he asked. Noticing Gorrum looking around, mouth agape with a firm grim by Aviram to keep him from darting away, with eyebrow raised, he leaned toward fletch,  "Hate to break it to you but I think you guide may be a bit on the 'touched' side. Y'aughta get yer money back fer an incompitant goblin." leaning to the right Simon slipped, falling right into Mitsu. Climbing up slowly, with no aid of mitsu, Simon patted his head, "sorry swordsman, apparently ima bit sloshed m'self. Word of warning to you," he said as he stood on wobbly legs, "tread carefully here, not everyone is as friends as I." He began to walk toward the door, "Ive met others you know, haent seen or heard from them, Stay safe, ill see you again!" he said with a stumbled wave. The bar mistress brought out four mugs of ale to the men with shaking arms, "Im so sorry for the wait," she said, Aviram raised an arm, "Do not worry miss, take your time, we see zat you are indeed busy, treat us as normal customors." This eased her slightly and she smiled toward Aviram and walked back to the bar, looking back once again, smile still across her face. A sharp elbow erupted into Avirams ribs, "Ay, you gunna get that? You totally have a shot" A mug slamming the table and broke the mood as all men jumped and looked toward the sound. "Gorrum likes yellow water, More! more!" He shouted excitedly.

[Private to Aviram:
Knowledge; people.
Gorrum: You didnt even see him on the boat, he must have intended it that way... the most you know of him is simply his name, and his questionably exquisite spear mounted on his back

Mitsu Hattori: On the ride in, Mitus rarely spoke. Through his accent you can gather he is VERY foreign. Wise indeed, as well as incredibly disciplined. You watched him train. Stay on his good side with that sword of his

Fletch: A stranger on the boat, though you briefly spoke, the jist you gathered is that he is a man of questionable morals, and a wonderful shot with a bow.

Titulari: Titulari; Personal bodyguard to the king, and often takes time to train troops due to his fighting prowess. Though not many races can claim his height, he is no orc, nor elf... He has been around for quite some time and not one man can remember him speaking a word.

Ser Upton: Current voice of the king, were it be a child running the kingdom, things would fall into dissaray. Upton quickly snatched the mantle after the passing of the King, and things have run smoothly sense. Though it seems as if the child king; the true king has no voice, and is merely a puppet until he develops a voice of his own to put Upton back in his place.

Sense Motives:
Gorrum: Though Gorrum is an odd choice for Royalty, He speaks the truth as far as you can tell, his letter is authentic, though the poor man cant read it himself.

Ser Upton: Evergard Upton. Acting authority as Terrian the Second mourns his father and learns the ways of royalty. A selfish, and harsh man. Though he personally dropped the crime rate down to almost nothing, it is not without it cost. He earned it with fear and blood. Best to stay on the gluttenous mans good side

Other Knowledge checks:
Geography: The Burning red sun setting behind the mountans made it difficult for you to get a good look at the island from the boat... You can say without a doubt, there are mountains to your west, beyond that, you do not know.

History: Slalo was founded centuries ago, built out of the sand by the aid of magics of the dead isle, as well as slavery of the local people though superior war knowledge. Though slalo seems to be in its 'Golden Age', something rubs you the wrong way...

Nature: Youve done a bit of reading before you came, Slalo itself is surrounded with thin forests and paths for trade with the Dwarves to the west. The town itself is Mostly stone walkways and buildings. From the looks of things, the stones were not taken from this local area being of a slightly golden reddish hue. Outside, there are many plants that have different effects on the body, as well as ungodly creatures not common to any other land.

Nobility/royalty, who is in charge now?: At the age of 12, King Terrian the Second was thrust into the Royal light after the untimly, and mysterious death of his father. Very little was said... there was no mourning in the city, in fact it took many days to even realize their king had passed. Being at such a young age, the kings embasarry, Evergard Upton guides the young king to help aid in his decisions.

Nobility/royalty, bloodlines tied to-: From the mixture of races found about the city, you can deduce that this land once had all races living amungst one another. Perhaps the Roayls of old had a council instead of a king? A war struck long ago, causing them to flee... so says the locals.

Local: Slalo: Safest place on the island. If not for its massive stone walls, its guards are above any fighter who dare come against them. The Pit, Batignnius, is a gladitorial areana, execution location as well as other means of death for the amusement of those who have lost their sense of humanity. Quite sad.

Terrignis- Lore: Terrignis, an ancient island, latent with magics. The town you stand is Slalo, a Solid stone fortress with military to defend it. The knights as well as guards are harshly trained by their generals and seem to be preparing for a war of sorts... To the west, The Vulneran Sky Mountians, full of gold and precious gems, home of the dwarves, and source to most of Slalos wealth with trade. Further past the mountains, The Redlands. Desert, with blood red stone. Much less civilized than slalo, its people have been branded as 'savages', though nobody ever speaks with them  our of fear and superstition. You notice an elf, wearing clothes of torn pieces of cloth stitched together, being pushed around by other men. It would seem elves are looked down upon in this town...]
This message was last edited by the player at 17:06, Sun 10 Jan 2016.

In reply to DM Shaun (msg # 21):

Fletch leaned over at the barmaid, displaying a grin of jagged teeth bereft of his left canine. "Bring me some O your Whiskey sweet woman." She shot an annoyed glare at the archer, but he simply closed his lips, but kept up the terrible smile. There was something off in his eyes, and the wench had no desire to keep a gaze with the with the half shaven man. As she departed, Fletch turned his face to the table, gently flicking his hand to pull the others in. "That minstrel, what he said. I heard it before from some boys down by the docks. Ton's o' us come through here. All dissapear. Already I'm startin' to think all o' us were fools to come here, no matter the tribulations that drove us away from home... They didn't explain much at the arena. Why go through all this trouble to bring a killer, a priest, a Samurai and a goblin across the bloody sea? And who knows how many others? Part o me really wants to jump onto the next ship, but my pocket's are running dry. A gold and seven silvers is nigh enough to take me somewhere. I mean look at the little woman when we flashed that sigil. Even the nickname the locals got for our 'benefactor', the folks rulin' the roost ain't loved. They're feared. This makes me want to leave just more and more. Even if I had enough coin I'm thinkin' they wouldn't let me ditch so easy... What about the rest of ya? whatchya make of all this?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:02, Wed 13 Jan 2016.

Mitsu stared down Simon while he fell over while his hand was on the hilt of his blade, as if prepared for the odd man to attack. As Simon got up Mitsu simply shrugged the man off. He slowly sipped at his drink, savoring it in contrast to Gorrum who has finished his second, and managed to spill most of it. He leaned close to the others and Fletch to listen and nodded his head in agreement. "You make a good point. I have a bad feeling about this. We will be best off staying together and figuring out what is really going on. I don't think this calling is purely for inheriting a throne. I sense darker intentions. It is very troubling that all of the ones to come before us have simply never been seen from again." Thinking on this for a moment he added, "I also find it strange that they would consider someone of human blood and goblin blood."

After finishing his drink he looked back to the minstrel, "So Simon, what else can you tell us about the ones who requested us here? What is this all really about? Dishonorable intentions do not go over kindly if we were brought here under false pretenses." Suddenly his tone turns a bit darker, now looking down at Simon almost glaring at him. He doesn't raise his voice as keep the conversion away from eavesdroppers, but it had the weight as if he was speaking to an entire legion of men. "I would also find it most dishonorable if someone were to withhold information and lead us with I'll intent."

[Private to DM Shaun:
19:11, Today: Mitsu Hattori rolled 18 using 1d20-1.  Sense motive; Simon.
19:09, Today: Mitsu Hattori rolled 12 using 1d20+6.  Intimidate; Simon.]
This message was last edited by the player at 16:07, Sat 16 Jan 2016.

Gorrum was not used too all the hustle of a busy tavern like this.  After growing up and hunting in the outskirts of Treetown, all of this was very exciting.  The yellow water drink was especially tasty, not to mention having food given to you for no work at all?  The more he drank the better Gorrum felt.  "Gorrum likes this alot, have to figure out how to get this everywhere."  Noticing this "Simon" talk and insult him, despite briefly thinking of throwing a throwy at him, Gorrum decided it was better to just take free things, besides who even was this simon guy?.  "Gorrum agree he likes sleeping." Gorrum replied to Mitsu.  When Gorrum throws his head back and tries to finish his half full mug in a couple greedy gulps, he notices a quick flash near the top of wall. "SHINY!" Gorrum shouts excitedly dropping his mug and taking off in a sprint towards the wall then tries to jump and climb the wall to get to the shiny thing.


13:01, Today: Gorrum rolled 25 using 1d20+5.  Jump.

13:04, Today: Gorrum rolled 10 using 1d20+1.  Climb.

Before reaching the tavern... "Zis Goblin is quite a bit of vork," I laugh.  "But He is on his own now, if he vants to follow us, up to him. - I vill not drag him anywhere anymore. He either keeps up or is left behind.  I do not know him and am not his mutter." I scoff frustrated, but still amused by his behavior.  "I did not mean I take him to be examined, I meant we bar him from traveling with us if he did not comply.  Too much of a risk with how they treat us around here."

My first thought of this man who calls himself Simon (which is a lie for all I know at this point) is that [Private to DM Shaun: he is the sort of scum of the earth who takes himself to be a gift to the world, yet he is no more than a lying, cheating, womanizer, who deserves to be cut down.  He is not the brute, not the accidentally evil, he is the intentional swindler, whose ego is built each time he takes advantage of another.  He is a arrogant man who needs his pride cut down to size.  I wish I had the martial skill to do it.  His comments about women fans the old flame of hatred which was sprung up after my home was destroyed.  It is men like that who betray, infiltrate, and have no honor or honesty.  Men like that who aided in the destruction of what is good in life.  He takes advantage of that which is pure, and corrupts it.  He takes advantage of women, and for that he ought to die.] I agree with Fletch's disappointment that he ought to be pound by those men of whom he took advantage of, of whose sister was the mark.  I whisper to Mitsu and Fletch something as soon as I can after I see Simon fall into him. The words hiss out from an angered expression.  "Zis man is no doubt a thief and that was a ruse.  Check for the medallion NOW, and DO NOT let Simon leave.  It is too likely he just stole Mitsu's gold or the medallion.  Your skills with the sword Mitus, and yours with the bow, Fletch may be needed in a moments notice!"

[Private to DM Shaun: 00:33, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 11 using 1d20+6.  Sense Motive, Simon; ShQ.
00:32, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 6 using 1d20+2.  Knowledge (Adventure), on Simon; ShQ.

12:32, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 15 using 1d20+2.  Spot Check, Simon, to see if he stole from Mitsu (opposed to his sleight of hand); ShQ.
12:31, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 20 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Local), on Simon; ShQ.]

"SIMON! Mitsu asked you a question! Are you going to answer it!?" I shout without turning to face him yet, my large hood still covering my face. After which I stand slowly to face him, hand on my weapon.

[Private to DM Shaun: 00:55, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 19 using 1d20+2.  Intimidate Check, on Simon (aid another with Mikael if that is best); ShQ.]

If there is a calm moment to mention:

I mention to Fletch after his comment, slightly confused. "Get Zaht? you mean mine Ale? Have a shot? You mean vith the Barmaid?"

"Vell, vhatever you meant, I do agree vith you Fletch and you Mitsu. There is something afoot here. I have been studying about zis place and have much to tell you, but not here. We must deal vith zis Simon first.

This Gorrum fellow must not see much of the world, not being aware of beer.  I never would have thought there was a soul who knew not of it, but I suppose I was wrong.  I wonder what his homeland is like for him to not know of beer."  When he suddenly begins to run off I mention to myself, "Uh oh" trying to hold a smile back.  If I find that Simon has taken the medallion, I exclaim to Gorrum, "He took the most shiny thing! Stop him!" pointing at Simon.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:45, Sat 16 Jan 2016.

"Aviram is right!" He thought to himself. Mitsu quickly searched his bags and checked for his gold and medallion.

{If anything is missing, Mitsu immediately draws his katana and threatens Simon.}

{If nothing is missing}
With a fierce look he eyes Simon. "Why are you in such a hurry to leave? I wasn't done speaking with you." Mitsu suddenly moves quickly and attempts to grab Simon and hold him at the bar. {Grapple attempt}


{11:06, Today: Secret Roll: Mitsu Hattori rolled 19.  Grapple on Simon.}

"What do you say we take this a little more private. We get to stay in an inn for free,, so how about it?"

[Private to DM Shaun:
11:46, Today: Secret Roll: Mitsu Hattori rolled 16 using 1d20.  Balanace.
11:53, Today: Secret Roll: Mitsu Hattori rolled 9 using 1d20+4.  Grapple.]
This message was last edited by the player at 16:55, Sat 16 Jan 2016.

While Simon was mid introduction: Gorrum took this opportunity to not care, and finish his ale. Head tilt fully back, trying to get as much out of the mug as he could, his small, dark, sharp eyes caught a glimmer up on the wall behind them. In an explosion of movement and (probably slightly drunken) excitement, a single word erupted from his lips. “SHINY!” With complete disregard for this surroundings, Gorrum made it his own personal mission to collect the shiny object....


All four appendages hit the table at once. Gorrum had skillfully avoided all the companions drinks doing so. He turned looking up with a slight frown. It was quite up there, especially being 4 feet tall. But the stubbornness and determination of Goblins is a feat in and of itself. Running to the far end of the table, the wooden plank began to lean, after a moment, it had created a ramp for the green skinned jumper. Quick as a flash, he ran, table still leaning, making his jump almost that of a run straight up the pillar, only jumping as his momentum slowed to throw up his arm. He had grabbed it. Falling down was not part of the plan he thought he would get to, but he was a clever one, as well as being raised in treetown, he was used to falling and mid-air corrections. With a few awkward twists, he landed with a thump back on the table, just as it had evened itself out again. A few claps and “Woo!”s were heard amongst the taverns rowdy nature. Gorrum recovered, feeling accomplished and rolled back into his chair to examine what he had found... Looking down, curiousity overtook his expression. He then shot a look up, and then back down. Then looking at the floor beneith him. “Something up?” Fletch said, snorting at his own pun. “Trade seats with Gorrum. Pretty sure someone was killed here once.” In his hands, gorrum held an exquisite throwing knife, engraved in its handle was a symbol that resembled a silhouette of a man in a hood... On the floor benieth his chair, the wood was stained a light pink, as well as the wall behind him. This throwing knife was the after effects of a murder or assassination and the owner of the tavern simply could not reach the throwing knife that missed its target. Fletch inhaled sharply though his teeth and leaned back, “Naw little mate, im good. Bad luck sitting in a dead mans chair” he added, taking a swig. Gorrum relished in his victory holding it out for all his friends to see.

[Private to Aviram:
Knowledge Local, Simon: Though most people know him, he is not local. Simply a frequent visitor. People have varying degrees of views on the man, but most of which are unsavory.

Spot check; Simon: As he fell on Mitsu, you notice his hand stay in one place slightly longer than the others... he could be searching for something specific. As he fell, you also notice his ears, which have up to now been covered with hair... There is something strange about them...

Knowledge adventure: Simon. Simon is a man of mystery... Though not many know from where he hails, this port town is not his home. He is not as he appears.]

As Simon drunkly began to stumble out the door, Mitsu and Aviram shouted at him to stop, near in unison.


The man stopped. 'Drunken' obble seeming to magically disappear. His playful grin gone as he looked back. “Mitsu, Check your pockets.” Aviram plainly stated. Without breaking eye contact from the bard, Mitsu did just that. Hands quickly swiping across his body, as if he memorized the quickest way to search himself for his items should the time call for it. Mitsu's eyes became sharp, his brow frilled and slowly stood. “The silver amulet.” He stated, causing the entire table to throw looks of confusion and anger toward the bard, not more than ten feet away. Mitsu slowly lowered his hand to the hilt of his blade. “I will not ask twice thief.” Simon lowered his head... with a sigh. He sharply picked it up and began to chuckle with his hands out to the side with a shrug, “Eh what can ya do.” He said, no seeming to be upset about being discovered. “Ive done it before with smarter, and ill do it again with dumber. You dont need this right now.” He said, pulling out the very same trinket that mitsu had on himself mere moments ago. Mitsu, now standing, began drawing his blade, walking swiftly to the man. “Oh come now, just cuz im a thief doesnt mean im a coward.” He stood his ground as the furious samuari came ever closer, suddenly though, mistu began to fumble and wobble upon something that was on the ground, confused, he looked simon in the eye who leaned down with a grin. “Running isnt cowardly, its strategic.”  As he shrugged, marbles were loosed from simon, causing mitsu to stumble. As mitsu regained his footing, he swiftly sheathed his blade, reaching for the man in an attempt to grab him. As he grabbed the smaller mans shoulders with a firm grip, Simon didnt appear worried, with a twist, he spun, breaking the grip of the samuari, dropping to the floor in a cross, split, followed by a slide behind Mitsu, as mitsu spun to attempt to grab him again, he was met with a boot to the face as Simon leapt off the head of the samurai. Infuriated, mitsutu turned and he saw the back end of Simon dart out the door. The remaining three men erupted from their seats to give chase. As the exerted the doorway, they saw his distinct coat dart into an alleyway behind an inn. “Man steal! Bad man! Steal from big man!” Gorrum swiftly gave chase, if ever he stumbled, he swiftly recovered with a short bout of running on all fours for a moment. Mitsu gave hot pursuit. Just as fletch was about to take off, Aviram grabbed his shoulder, “No, zis vay, ve shall cut him off” With a tug, they ran around the other side of the building...

Simon looked over his shoulder, seeing an enraged goblin chase after you on all fours is quite terrifying, he picked up the pace. In the alley quarters were close, the sides of buildings were lined with crates of supplies and bags of clothes and other objects of the sort. With the angry goblin closing in, simon tipped over crates, kicking boxes causing them to tumble in his wake. This did not slow the goblin, he leapt and darted though and over all the obstacles. Mitsu however, was disheartened, he could not be as agile as gorrum, and released anger though his teeth with a sharp exhale. An idea struck as he saw the cleric and fletch heading the other way to head them off. Mitsu ran Inside the inn.

On the backside of the inn, rounding a corner sharply, goblin at his heels, he was met with the most unplesant sight. An archer looking down the shaft of an arrow toward him and a very upset cleric. Simon looked back and forth weighing his options. Before he had time to think, a spear was drawn, covering the back, gorrum stood, battle ready should the man be so unwise as to turn around. Simon became nervous looking to and fro. “Now now, we need this more than you do you brats, you have no idea wha-” He was cut off as Aviram briskly walked up to him, ready to grab or attack, he hadnt decided yet... “Well if you say it like that-” Simon said before quickly leaping a short height, kicking off a wall and diving though an unopened window, shattering the glass. Both gorrum and aviram reached the window to look in, shattered glass was all that remained on the floor. They looked further in to see mitsu in full sprint toward the stairs. The three outside began climbing into the window...

“Gimme a break mate, its not what you think it is.” Said simion, walking backwards as mitsu stomped up the stairs, sword partially drawn, eyes unwavering. At the top of the stairs, Simon had his hands up, spewing words at the man. The words beaded off like water off a duck, Mitsu had one thing in mind. Reclaiming what was his. Without warning, Simon darted to the right, into an open door and slammed it harshly. Mitsu sheeted his sword fully and pounded on the door. It had been locked and barred... as if simon was planning on upset visitors. He could hear rustling from the inside and began to kick at the door...

“What are you doing?!” Fletch asked, confused, “Why are you breaking in to a poor sods room?” “This is simons room” Mitsu said mid kick. “Oh. Well then.” Said fletch, now at ease began to kick in unison, hearing the bar begin to crack benieth the force of their kicks. After a moment the door swung open, splinters of the wooden plank designed to hold them back exploding to fill the room. They were met with a very different simon.. he had donned a cloak, holding a jar of sand staring deeply into it, without even turning to greet his intruders that had now filled the room.

"The golden sand of Terrignis Mare... once reflecting the gold flowing from veins in the mount, as well as the hearts of its people. Now stained red, o the blood that was shed... Will you ever reflect what is in our hearts again? Or is this what we've become?" Simon spoke to the jar. “The tolken, NOW” Mitsu ordered. Simon simply turned. “You fools. Given a gift from the devil himself and you fight to get it back. You know nothing of this place.” Fletch began to step forward from the seemingly cowardly bard. “Oh by all means, take it if you can” he said, holding it in his hand, jar of red sand in the other.” Fletch leapt toward the open hand, suddenly, simons cloudy white necklace began to swirl and the red sand from the jar exploded, swarming the room in a miasma of red, the sand in its vicious swirl almost resembled fire, with the glare of simons locket gleaming though it...


“I cant see a thing!” He shouted back to his comrades, who also had to shield their eyes, bearly able to hear him from the fierce winds that filled the room. It made no sense to any of them. From within the harsh swirling sand and blow of wind, they saw a form, darting to an fro thoughrout the room, around simon. After a moment, the sand parted, much like the read sea, to show simon standing next to the window, hood now drawn over his head, his once cloudy white necklace was now clear, like a glass locket. “You are all fools. Do you so badly wish to follow the steps of those before you? Or will you look between the lines to see the bigger picture.” While he spoke, Mitsu faught the strong winds, that with each step, pushed him back slightly ever slowly making his way to simon who was once again covered and hidden within the swirling sands. Mitsu saw his moment, and took it. With a dive, he grasped cloth and tugged, causing a thump. As the thump was sounded, the wild winds and sand began to settle. The three men look clearing their eyes to notice mitsu holding naught but the cloak simon was wearing. He was gone. With a shout in a language none of them spoke, The samuari tossed the cloak across the room. As it hit the wall, something fell from one of its pockets... it was the Jounal of Simon.


Aviram grabbed the book, still wrapping his head around what happened moments ago, and opened the book to the first page. The priest raised an eyebrow. “'smatter, cant you read?” Fletch jabbed at him with a grin. Aviram was not amused. “Of course I can read, zis is not common.” The other three men gathered around the book, mitsu leading the back, slightly upset about his failure to grab the slippery bard. “The hell is this?” Fletch said, backhanding the pages, Gorrum didnt bother, he couldnt even read common as it was. Mitsu gently took the book from the cleric and glossed the pages. “I can” He said.

[Private to Mitsu Hattori: Most are witten in Rhyfellion, some are in common, these are what they say:
"Letter Kids"?
Search for royal blood?
'Royal blood' never left
What does Pig want with strangers
Kings death, no statement
Rise in Creature discoveries/species
Familys killing familys
Elves. Rumors true?
Why? Where did they come from?
Redlands
Law's been busy
Return the people to its land?
Skewed with ancient dead isle magics?
He is key (No particular order)]

His eyebrow raised, at some of the things written and turned a page. His eyes widened, “What in the seven hells...” The samurai said. The three men again darted around to see the pages, what they saw was... Interesting to say the least.


“Creatures? Why the study of creatures?” Fletch posed. “Im not sure,” the swordsman said, flipping though the pages, “But he has been busy. There are roughly fifty entries.”

Suddenly without warning another man burst into the room, causing the four to turn weapons drawn “WOAH” shouted the stranger, "Simon, bard. Ive been tracking him for days where is he?!”

~Intro: Isaac

Sense motive, Aviram/Mitsu: After seeing he obviously stole from mitsu, its fair to assume he was up to no good.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:55, Sat 16 Jan 2016.

Fletch looked around the room, dumbfounded, and at this new comer. "Was no bard. A bloody sorcerer or somethin. Stole from us. Vanished in a cloud o' red sands and chantin'. Who the hell are you?"even before the archer's sentence was finished his bow was drawn, a blue feathered arrow notched at his cheek. He would not be tricked again today.

The weather-worn man raised his hands lightly in a gesture of peace, grey eyes casting about the room. He spoke in a husky voice, clearly unaccustomed to have to speak often. His clothes were as ragged as his speech, and he carried a quarterstaff strapped to his back. "I don't care what he was, I've got business with 'im. 'E stole a bauble from me, silver. It's important to me. I've been tracking the scoundrel for a few days, now." He paused, as a large canine, armed in piecemeal leather armor, padded into the room and crouched by his side. He pressed his hand gently to the top of the dog's head, causing it to visibly relax. It continued to eye the goblin, however. "And me name is Oloven. Oloven Fletcher. Any of you lads know where 'e might've gone?" He glanced down at the the large furry dog, watching carefully as it began to sniff the air gingerly.

Now that the theif is gone, Mitsu swiftly sheathes his sword as he takes a look at the journal. Speaking to those around him, "Looks like we are not the only ones who have been looking for answers around here. We must find Simon and make him answer for this."

After seeing the man that just came through the door it seems that they are not the only ones who have crossed paths with this man. He looks to the man and says, "Greetings, I am Mitsu Hattori. We don't have the slightest idea where he might have gone. He stole something from us as well. We only met him earlier this day. Do you know anything about this man?"

Mitsu takes a moment to look over the journal in his hands. He writes a translation on a blank page from the journal.


"Any of you have any ideas over this?"

"Stranger! Do you seek zis man Simon as vell? I would only guess he left out the widow. Unless he escaped by some other worldly means!
Did Simon steal a silver talisman from you as vell?"  I quickly run to the nearest window inside what I assume to be Simon's room and look out it.

[Private to DM Shaun: {19:32, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 15 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Local), on Oloven Fletcher; ShQ. DM Shaun-Knowledge local is rumors, local hear say, etc. I think you know this one just fine, but I wanted to differentiate it from Knowledge adventure, since we created Knowledge adventure.
19:32, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 14 using 1d20+2.  Knowledge (Adventure), on Oloven Fletcher; ShQ. DM Shaun-knowledge adventure describes a characters class level and class abilities, like I would have Cloistered Cleric level 1.
19:31, Today: Secret Roll: Aviram rolled 16 using 1d20+2.  Spot Check, Simon, to see if he is out the window; ShQ.}]

"I knew from the moment I met zat Simon, he was up to something.  Even with my realization and warning he eluded us.  The thing that confuses me still is his comments about the royal bloodline test. Like he was trying to help us? I vould normally just be angered, but I am actually unsure if he was trying to hurt us or help us. Do you still have all your gold Mitsu?  Hopefully the Inn would put us up from the knowledge that we had the talisman. Did we get it back?

I have much I need to tell you all about my observations of zis place and its people.

About Simon:
Though most local people know Simon, he is not local. Simply a frequent visitor. People have varying degrees of views on the man, but most of vhich are unsavory. Obviously ve have seen some identity he was hiding, but the locals understand him (or his posed self) to be as I stated earlier.

I noticed as he fell on Mitsu, his hand stayed in one place slightly longer than the others... he could have been searching for something specific. Presumably the Talisman.  As he fell, I also noticed his ears, which had up to that point been covered with hair...  There was something strange about them...

Simon is a man of mystery... Though not many know from where he hails, this port town is not his home. He was (obviously) not as he appeared.

I noticed this, just before he ran.  Vhich is vhy I spoke up so quickly. I knew he vas up to something.

There is much more about other more threatening things, concerning the blood line tests.  However those might need to be said elsewhere."

I search the cloak of Simon for any other items. {I take a 20 on Search}

I search this room for anything else of interest {I take a 20 on search of the room as well.}

I observe this room as well. {observe is a key word in our DnD, meaning describe the room, because I take the time to actually look. We have this for other players too, like seeing what armour they are wearing and weapon they are holding. Obvious things that need no check, just a description from the DM.}

{So Aaron is aware:
Aqua = my spoken words
Goldenrod = my out of character comments
Pink = specific comments to the DM or of special note.}

{I observe this new comer. {Can you describe your looks to us Oloven Fletcher}
This message was last edited by the player at 00:55, Mon 25 Jan 2016.

Gorrum takes note of Oloven entering the room, but continues to just muck around and mumble to himself. "Gonna stab....stupid bard....stab...stab... Simon"

As Ovoren's animal enters the room  and eyes him, Gorrum studies the creature back.  He sees the dog start sniffing about and Gorrum gets a great idea.  Gorrum starts walking around and smelling things too.  He eyes Simon's cloak on the floor and and drops to all four to give it a big smell.

I smell the cloak {Can I take a 20 on a "Smell Check"?}

After all the excitement of the smells, Gorrum turns back to the group and holds his spear pointed to Simon's cloak. "We should hunt this hooman and skin him." he says with a wicked smile on his face.

[Private to Aviram:
Knowledge- Oloven Fletcher

Local: Though this is the first you've heard his name, Hearsay of a strange man and his dog with a difficulty of speech has reached your ears (ironicly). The man has been on a frantic search for Simon over the past many days as he had been robbed as well. Not a harsh word has been said of the man, other than the mockery of his word choice and lack of vocabulary.

Adventure: Judging by the almost amimalistic look of the man, hand stitched clothes, animal companion, dirty bare feet, lack of social skill and smell. Youve come to the conclusion that the man before you is a Druid, where he comes from, you do not know. Though he may struggle with personal skills, both he and his dog mean well, unless otherwise wronged by another. A welcome companion indeed, or a frightful foe should you attempt to harm him.

Spot: You dart out the widow to see if you notice simon running, you no longer see him, but in his wake, he laid a trail of distruction. Overturned boxes and the sort making way to the cities western gate, toward the mountains. Simon is gone.]

Simons Cloak:
Aviram - Aviram picks up the "bards" cloak, inspecting it. To his surprise, he finds its insides are lined with many pockets- twenty to be exact, all the exact same size, a perfect fit for the silver talisman that was stolen. You notice a red streak across many of the pockets, almost like a checklist... All but one. One pocket failed to have been stricken with a cross. Perhaps his Job is not yet completed? The cloak itself was interesting. Though not crafted by a local tailor, it had been mended by one who was very experienced with a needle and thread. Given the cloth and look of the garment, the tailor did the best he or she could, given the supplies at their disposal. He looks about the sand covered room. This was Simons hub of opperations no doubt, however; all the drawers were opened and closet emptied. Simon took the time to make sure to not leave anything behind... Aside from the cloak which Mitsu grabbed. Surely that but a damper on the theives evening.

Gorrum- (Though smell isnt a roll option, I'll let you have this, I like the idea lol)
The goblin made his way to the cloak which Aviram held and quickly snatched a corner of its dark cloth and inhaled deeply. Many scents danced along its fabric, one of the most predominant was foreign to him... The dust, sand and wear of the cloak showed itself well worn, as well as well traveled. The sent of Blood, Rum and... Metal? The Goblin took a confused step back. Noticing small rocks and a damp patch on its bottom. It had not rained recently... Melted snow?... He thought, gazing at the sky piercing mountians out the window.

Survival: Weather forcast; Gorroum sticks his head out the window, the cold of the sea and warmth of the land conflicted creating a slight fog, with a light breeze coming from the east, it was safe to assume tomorrow's weather should be pleasant
This message was last edited by the player at 18:18, Tue 26 Jan 2016.

In reply to DM Shaun (msg # 33):

Fletch glared angrily at the cloak. Kicking it half heartedly.
"Well, shit. No finding him anytime soon, I heard tales of what magic weavers can do. I say we try cut our losses. I bet we can stay one  night here 'fore the management gets wise 'bout our missin' little trinket. After that, we're out on our own. And I can guarantee those areana folks will be none too happy to hear this..."
The archer glanced down at the dog, keeping a hand on his bow. He turned to the beasts owner, voice straining with apathy, "So who do you work for?"

"Work for m'self." Oloven knelt down by the large dog, who was still sniffing the air. "Aye, staying 'ere may be an option. Rest a while. But I'm sure me friend 'ere can help us track down the ruddy bloke. And even maybe listen to the lil' guy there's suggestion." Oloven cast a mischievous smile at the goblin.

[Private to DM Shaun: My animal companion is a Riding Dog with leather barding, trained for war, by the way. It has the Track feat, and a +4 racial bonus on survival checks based on scent.]

After a very unusual turn of events, the party found themselves with another... and his dog, all after the same man: Simon. The thief who stole the same object from them all. Surely this could not be chalked up to coincidence. After an exchange of words, they came to the collective agreement to stay the night in simons room. It was, after all, paid for and it would be a shame to let it go to waste, shutting the door behind them, the group then squabbled over who got the single bed... and with the brandishing of a dagger, it seemed fletch was winning.


The morning light crept along the wall, signaling the morning. As it began to illuminate the room, it was quite the sight to behold. The samuari, ever disciplined decided it would be less of a squabble to fight over something as trivial as a bed and slept, katana across his folded legs on the floor at the foot of the bed. What Im sure began as a definitive "you sleep here and dont cross the invisible line", must have been tossed out the window sometime during the night, as the foot of a goblin wedged itself almost puzzle like in the armpit of the archer who both snored with a violet ferocity. The cleric, though not above fighting for the rights to sleep in a bed, did not see the need to bring weapons into it, and simply slept along the floor, in front of mitsu with the aid of pillows he had snatched during the night, unbeknownst do the sleeping duo of goblin and human. The Newcomer slept peacefully alongside his companion, as if he was used to it and never put up a single word of confliction when the topic of bed came up, he stayed out of it and laughed at the squabble.

As the light continued to creep down the bedframe and wall, it passed the foreheads of the man with the dog and the mangled goblin, twisted in the sweet embrace of sleep. The moment it crossed their eyes however, both man and green-skin were immediately awakened. And began preparing for their tracking of this "Simon..." They gave the remaning sleeping men the pleasantry of a few more minutes of sleep. The awakening was unplesant, being the early hour it was, but the druid and scout got their 'men' into shape quickly.

After a few stretches, moans and violent complaints, they found themselves on the streets once again. Prepared for whatever the day may throw at them, and hopefully to catch the thief and remove his hands from his body as Fletch so blatantly stated.

Options:

This message was last edited by the player at 03:21, Fri 29 Jan 2016.

In reply to DM Shaun (msg # 36):

Fletch pulled himself out of bed shaking away the precious night with a twotch of his shoulders. He enjoyed a good mattress from time to time. Fletch soon realized hed been sharing his space with a goblin, grimacing at the fact that it was not the worst he'd woke up with. He pushed the goblin away and touched his toes to the ground before shipping his raggedy boots on. The long bow lay unstrung beside him. In a carful otion ye merc prepares his stolen weapon for a new day. The sun was young and red as he watched it, stumpy fingers looping black chord on red wood. With his weapons set  he knocked his heel down on the wood a few times to wake the others. Some morning words were exchanged before the archer spoke his piece. "Allrighty. we got one hell of a say ahead of us. I dont know about the lot o you, but i think our chamces of finding that little thief are slim and none. Least by traditional means. Im also running dead low on coin. I say we strike out, see what we can learn and find some work. I guarantee someone in this town needs some muscle for something.  but as for you dogman, i want to know more bout ya before i feel right havin you and that beast of yers along."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:01, Mon 01 Feb 2016.

I open my eyes, coming to the slow realization that I am awake again, as the room begins to be lit by the sun.  Having slept well when finally falling asleep, I try to sleep a little longer before everyone wakes up.  I fall asleep again, yet to now wake to the archer's stirring. I stretch and sit up, from the pillows I had been curled up against.  I remove the cloak of simon from where it had been, atop my person like a blanket and instead put it on, but not before examining the pockets again.  I look inside them for any sort of imprint.  Like where water would have made dye run or an imprint from an item apparent.  I realize once again how pressing these events may be... we need to get started.

"I believe ve need to track down Simon and ve should begin immediately.  Ve could stop in town briefly incase anyone has need to purchase items for travel in the forest or outskirts, outside this city.  That is assuming, if anyone has any coin left.  I do not think we have time to vork for more coin now, nor do I think we should stay any longer in the city than we have to.  Simon's words still resonate in my mind, compounding now further my suspicions.  I do not trust the reason they brought us to this city for, not after I have met them.

I have studied this region alittle on the journey here and what I could study before I left for this journey.  I have learned some disturbing things:..."

I take the next while to explain more about the situation that I have learned from my studies.



I do agree with Fletch though, "I vould like to know you better before traveling vith you, Mr. ...?
I am Aviram, pleased to make your acquaintance.
Though we seem to have a common goal, and your 'companion,' canus lupus? I presume? would be an asset to our quest, I vould like to know more about you.  Do you have any tracking skills yourself?"

Mitsu took a moment to consider all of there options. He wanted to find Simon, no he needed to. Simon has been allowed a whole night away from answering from his theft. "Aviram is right. We must find Simon and the longer we delay the longer he has to escape our grasp. I think we have learned as much we can just around here." Mitsu takes a moment for the others before looking to Aviram and Gorrum. "Let's get to tracking him. Gorrum, you think you can pick anything up on him?"

Oloven gave his new acquaintances time to wake before setting off after Simon, feeling unusually generous. For his troubles, he found they wanted nothing less but to glean what they could from him. "Aye, look. I'll reintroduce me'self. Oloven Fletcher. Treasure hunter by trade. I tend to sleep in less 'ospitable places than this nightly, so I know more than a lil' about tracking somefin down." He told them casually as he made certain the barding on his furry companion was set and comfortable. "An' to be 'onest, I really don' need to wait on the lot o' ya. Thought I'd be a good sport an' let you tag along for a bit, though. Know ya might wan' ta get your things back too. Wha'ever you lot decide to do, I'm going after 'im." He slung his pack over his shoulder as he said this, and moved to the door. Without any noticeable signal, the dog padded after his master.

Oloven turned toward the door to leave followed closely by his canine companion. He had taken about two steps, however, when his canine companion suddenly stopped, perked its ears, and began growling. The druid paused, and just as he glanced back to register exactly what his friend was doing, something highly unexpected happened. The door, which had already been broken open last night, and later refastened for when they slept, was broken open a second time. Struck by a thunderous kick, the door loudly exploded from its repose, striking the wall beside it with a clamour, and falling off one of its hinges in the process.

The adventurers already inside, needless to say, were on their feet faster than someone could blink and swelled with a healthy blend of alarm and adrenaline. They also thought it funny, for now they knew exactly how it felt to be on the other side of someone breaking into your room. Through the door, with no courtesies whatsoever, burst a woman, a half-orc. She had clearly not been invited. She was wielding a glaive and aiming it straight at them; and for those who don't know, a glaive looks an awful lot like a staff with a thick shortsword mounted on top.

This was definitely an unorthodox way to start the day. Tusks, no more than an inch long, protruded from her lower jaw and naturally rested on the upper lip. Her eyes burned with an almost white color, tinged by the slightest shade of green. The only hair on her head was a low strip of offblack down the center like a mohawk; aside from that, her head was completely shaven. She looked like she was in a bad mood and they guessed as much.

Their opinion was confirmed when she uttered the following. "I'm gonna cut your damn head off!!" She stopped her threats short and blinked in surprise. She glanced from one side of the room to the other, taking in the fact that it was full of people she had never seen before. Her glaive lowered for a moment, then she put it right back up again. Tone unchanged, she demanded, "Where's Simon? Where is he!?"


This message was last edited by the player at 19:27, Fri 05 Feb 2016.

"VOAH!" I exclaim at the unexpected entrance.  I immediately turn, stand, and raise my hands on front of me in an unthreatening manner. [Private to DM Shaun:  (I take total defense)] "Simon is not here!  He stole from us and we plan to track him down!  We were about to leave to trail him!  We believe he fled from the city, but we were waiting herE to catch him in case he returned, and for light to trail him by.  We seek the same goal!  We will tell you all we know of him if you lower your weapon, you might even be able to go with us to trail him if you vant."

Oloven's hand shot out in front of the dog's snout as the woman stopped, his fingers splayed. On cue, the growling stopped and tensed muscles relaxed, no longer readied to pounce on the intruder. "Oy love, no need ta be pointing tha' at us. It seems we 'ave a bit of a gatherin' of us tha' are after the blighter." The druid glanced at the rest of the men and single goblin assembled, then back to the newcomer. "Might as well join us, eh?"

The Katana gripped tight in both hands, Mitsu faced the door as it came crashing down. Ready to face the intruder. As the angry orc lowered her weapon, Mitsu sheathed his weapon. She seemed to have also been wronged by this same man, quite the infamous fellow. He looked to the orc with his hand still on the hilt. He asked her more calmly than those around him, "It seems he has wronged you as well. We were about to begin to hunt him down."

Quay slightly lowered her glaive. The nonthreatening reply she received was somewhat unexpected, though not unwelcome, and her ferocity started to recede. She glanced between the motley of characters in the room, then said, "This is one popular thief, to have such a mob after him." She had at first expected that, perhaps, they were cohorts of his. But judging by their reaction, she now highly doubted it, for the sheer surprise factor of her appearance would have made it difficult to assume such a ruse so fast. She looked at them in a new light.

It was strange to see a variety of races like this in one place, a fact which seemed to fascinate her. "You don't seem like you're friends." She stated this not as a criticism, but more as an observation. In fact, she felt more at ease because of this, for she would have been more suspicious of a group of strangers who knew each other too well. Finally, and perhaps a little later than was due, she spun her glaive upside and planted the blade into the floorboards. "Clearly know who I'm talking about, so I suppose we are after the same guy. I'll join this hunting party. Let's get after him and make this quick."

The look of determination in her eyes was daunting, probably made so because of their almost burning white color. It was as though the furnace of a forge blazed there, condensed into those eyes, and magnified by the dark pale green skin around them. Now this was a woman who when she decided something would happen, it happened.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:58, Mon 08 Feb 2016.

Gorrum was barely done rubbing his eyes when he the door broke open.  Never one for having a fair fight or being in the way, he crouches almost under the bed.  Making himself small and holding his spear tightly, he carefully listens to the conversations of the big'ums.

When it was obvious that there was going to be no fighting to run from, Gorrum took a moment to look at the newcomer.  He had never seen such a strong GREEN female before, Gorrum didn't even knew they came in that size.  Gorrum would have to watch her very closely...to see if she also did green things.

With not much to add and by nature not liking attention (unless drunk) Gorrum just nods along with everyones plans.

Not many of the men could say they had a morning start out quite like this... Note the word Many. With the interesting introduction and strange addition of the Orc woman, the men stood for a moment as she spun on her boot and began to leave, leaving the men to attempt to wrap their minds around what happened. Gorrum was the first out, He found it fascinating that beings came in different greens and spent the most of their walk simply studying her- much to her discomfort. After a moment, the men walked out of the room, looking at one another making sure they were making the right decision, they were all after the same man after all... whats the harm, right?...


As the front door opened, the group found themselves with and interesting sight. A crowd had gathered and were in an uproar, though the adventurers only saw backs and heard not a single coherent sentence, the message was clear. The mob was unhappy to say the least. Not wanting to include themselves, they found it best to head to the west gate. They would let the dog get the scent outside for tracking simon. The crowd began to clear as they walked however, and curiosity got the best of them as they heard something shatter. The men (and woman) turned to notice a woman in the middle of a huge crowd. In an elegant dress, it was clear she was not from these parts. The crowd was tossing objects at the woman and it was only when she turned her head to dodge some form of fruit did they notice her face; and ears. The woman was an elf.
Her voice did nothing but add to the miasma of sounds as she pleaded in tears for them to stop. Suddenly out of the crowd, a knight, Large in stature and armored from head to toe walked to the woman, raising his shield and cloak to shield her from objects and harsh words.


Many a tomato and small vase were broken on the armored protector as they walked to the dock, boarded a ship, and left, heading out toward the west leaving a trail of rubbish tossed by the townsfolk on the waters surface. "The hell was that all about?" Fletch asked, speaking for the bulk of them. "Elves aren't looked kindly upon 'round here. Not sure why." The druid said, removing his hand from the head of his dog, as if to restrain him throughout the mobs actions. "Lets carry on." Quay said dryly, not giving much care to the unraveled events. She had here eyes set on something bigger. Well, smaller. And more likely to steal from you.


Outside the Western gate, the group marched on a well worn trail. After a hour or so of walking, following the dog as he tracked the scent of the strange man, they came to a bend in the trail, and suddenly, the dog began to walk in circles. The scent was being confused with something else. The druid studied the confused dog. The others took the moment to streach their backs, and after a few cracks of stiff joints took the time to take in the scenery. It was a bushy area, say for one tree, there were thick shrubs all around the trail. They took the moment to remember green, Because according to the words of the locals, the green and life shifts to red and dead stone. Gorrum continued to study the orc woman, who had just about had enough of his eyeing her and prodding various parts of her visible skin. Just as she was about to turn and shout at the small goblin, gorrum froze. Quay raised an eyebrow at this, after a moment everyone turned their attention to the scout who stood unmoving. Suddenly, his eyes darted from left to right, looking at the cleric, and then the orc, "MOVE GREEN LADY" He shouted as he darted in front of her, and leapt, grabbing her face and pulling her back falling on the ground a near ten feet. After the cloud of dust settled, they stood confused until they heard a voice, "Fuckin' Goblins and their creepy eyes!" In the moment gorrum froze, he saw movement in the brush as well as a weapon he was all to familiar with, a blow dart gun. When he turned to pull and Quay's face, he nearly took an unknown toxic dart in the leg as the small, near unseen dart missed its intented target of Quays neck.

The men quickly readied themselves, drawing weapons... Suddenly they heard a rather odd sound, a clap. "That was quite good my small green friend," a man said, stepping out of the brush and into the path ahead of them, another could be seen further back from him. "We only needed one to fill our quota, but give us the Orc, and goblin and you'll get a hefty reward, savvy?" The man stood, feeling rather certian his words would sway the minds of the men. Besides, who wouldnt give up a friend for money right? His thoughts were cut off as an arrow flew past his head, which he narrowly dodged, perhaps cutting some of his well kept black hair. (You dont lose an arrow, simply storytelling) Looking back, he saw a bow. Fletch had loosed an arrow at the would be kidnapper. "You want em?" Fletch asked. "Attempt to claim them." Mitsu finished, sword drawn, pointing at the man. Quay was plesantly supprised by the her defenders, though she bearly knew them, one nearly got shot by an unknown substance for her, and the others would not hand her over for money. Interesting people indeed. With rustles in the brush, men began to erupt some donning swords, another a bow. "Claim them we shall," the man said, Drawing a rapier with a cocky grin (2). "Perhaps you will see the red sands to the Batiginus yourselves."

Combat rounds, Enabled

This message was last edited by the player at 19:53, Mon 08 Feb 2016.

Finally a fight. Fletch's face pulled to a stern glare, his arms were a blur as he drew his longbow and leapt to the priest's side(s14). He drew his bow, targeting the prick in the brush(4) and let loose his fingers with a quick controlled breath.
15:52, Today: Fletch rolled 7 using 1d20+4 ((3))
he came in to fast, to reckless, and the arrow was lost.

The Katana shined as it was pulled from the sheath. It had been so well kept no one could have guessed how much blood has dripped off the tip of it. Mitsu quickly scanned the enemies in front of them, trying to determine who had a melee weapon in their hands. {Spot check} He then eyes enemy 5 and studies him before moving in for the attack. {Knowledge adventure check}

17:24, Today: Mitsu Hattori rolled 7 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge adventure on #5.
17:24, Today: Mitsu Hattori rolled 20 using 1d20.  Spot check. (Nat 20!!)

As he is scanning the field for anything useful he see's something behind the furthest enemy. Smoke? From what? He relays it to his companions, "Look, in the distance. There's smoke rising!" Not letting to much of his attention wander from the enemies he looks to them, "It looks like those ones have the blow darts {5 and 3} and the rest have melee weapons."

{Mitsu will be charging 5 once Aviram moves out of the way, rolling once that occurs}

With Aviram moving from Mitsu's line of attack, he grips his katana with both hands. Charging for enemy #5. (Charging (+2) + Power Attack (-1))



This message was last edited by the player at 18:46, Sat 13 Feb 2016.

Quay cast a burning glare. She would have uttered a word of thanks to the goblin, but she had already forgotten his existence. Her attention was concentrated like the head of spear, and directed with the same deadly intent. She hissed, baring her tusks in an aggressive display. "Claim me? I'll claim you!"

Vengeful, agile, she darted like a tigress across the grass, coming at them fearlessly. She thrust out her glaive into the bush at the closest ambusher.

20:48, Today: Quay rolled 17 using 1d20+4.  Attack, Glaive @ Man #4 (Power Attack: -1).
20:49, Today: Quay rolled 9 using 1d10+8.  Damage, Glaive @ Man #4 (Power Attack: +2).

After the fact, she knelt on one knee. Her eyes swept across all her enemies in a glance, pondering the most effective method to kill them all. For a moment she had even forgotten that she was here with allies, but Mitsu's voice acted as a reminder. He said something about smoke in the distance. A camp perhaps? Not important now. She pushed the mention aside.

Being in front of the others, they could easily note she was armed to the brim with spears. Aside from the glaive in her hand, a lengthy quiver crafted from some animal's hide was strapped to her back. Two additional spears of varying length protruded from it. She had more teeth than just her tusks.


This message was last updated by the player at 02:13, Sat 13 Feb 2016.

Oloven drew the quarterstaff from his back, and pointed it directly at the man next to Quay's victim. "Karn, there." The words had barely escaped his lips before the massive, black and white dog shot across the space between his master and prey. Oloven didn't watch this, however. He himself had turned and moved to the flank of his party, chanting to himself in arcane syllables. Karn lunged at the man in the trees as The druid extended his hand and vines, thick as a young man's arm, sprouted suddenly from the ground on the path and enveloped a great area. The swiftly growing plants grasped heedlessly at the ankles and legs of the men who were unfortunate enough to be caught in it, as if desperately trying to drag them into the earth.

Karn:Move action to O 11, standard attack. Trip attempt on successful hit.

Oloven: Free action to command Karn, Move action to P 18, readying quarterstaff. Standard action, cast Entangle centered on G 9.

Gorrum knew who had shot at the green lady.
He also knew he now wanted to stick him.

Hearing Mitsu about the other one with darts, He keeps a mindful eye on him (#5)
He holds his spear tight in his hand and runs towards the blow-darter eyeing him for a weak spot, then with a violent scream he attempts to shove the spear into him.

Gorrum: move to p12; Attack #3, #5 target for Dodge bonus.


13:32, Today: Gorrum rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  Attack.
13:33, Today: Gorrum rolled 7 using 1d6+1.  Spear Damage.
13:34, Today: Gorrum rolled 4 using 1d6.  Skirmish Bonus Damage.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:36, Sat 13 Feb 2016.

I answer the bandits with aggression, suspicious of their ill intent and trustworthiness. "I will make no bargains with your type, bandit scum!"
I turn and speak to our group, "It would be useless to make an agreement with them! Make them pay for their ambush!"

I pull a cross from my cloak which I hold while I whisper prayers to myself. I lower my head a moment.



I lift my face, and it is apparent that there is a tear at my eye, in a passion of righteous anger. After a moment of revelatory insight, I shout, "Approach me! In Jesus Name!" Pointing my finger at 5, with my cross in the other hand.

{Rolls:
Sense Motive:
18:41, Today: Aviram rolled 5 using 1d20+4.  Sense Motive, Bandits Claim; ShQ. ( nat 1 :( )

Knowledge Adventure:
17:42, Today: Aviram rolled 21 using 1d20+2.  Knowledge (Adventure), on 5; ShQ.
17:42, Today: Aviram rolled 6 using 1d20+2.  Knowledge (Adventure), on 4; ShQ.
17:42, Today: Aviram rolled 15 using 1d20+2.  Knowledge (Adventure), on 3; ShQ.
17:42, Today: Aviram rolled 5 using 1d20+2.  Knowledge (Adventure), on 2; ShQ.
17:41, Today: Aviram rolled 20 using 1d20+2.  Knowledge (Adventure), on 1; ShQ.

Result:
5: Though he donned a blowgun with a dart lined belt across his chest in different colored plumes, he was a large man. No doubt a fighter by nature.. It seems his job required him to take on a secondary position to capture passers by. His dagger though... you notice it has an odd greenish hue along she blade
4: A larger man stood between the two with blow guns... no doubt there for physical defense. His Great sword caught your eye. More than likely a fighter.
3: Blow gunner... Though harder to see, his gear seems to be similar to number 5. Probably backup for his partner if he missed.
2: He stepped forward and offered you a reward for Quay and Gorrum. Perhaps the ring leader? His rapier is cleanly polished and he appears to be clean cut.
1: An imposing figure... A large man stands in the back of the group, not seeming to care about the outcome. Perhaps he is simply watching to see his men in action. You get a glare of branded mail armor, and notice his shield on his back.. His long sword looks exquisite, with intricate designs. Though not more powerful than a regular sword, it seems custom made. Quite frightening. Definitely the man in charge.

Knowledge Nature:
18:39, Today: Aviram rolled 18 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Nature), on types of poison possibly used; ShQ.

Knowledge Local:
18:45, Today: Aviram rolled 9 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Local), on Bandits; ShQ.

Knowledge Geography:
18:39, Today: Aviram rolled 21 using 1d20+1.  Knowledge (Geography), on surrounding terrain; ShQ. ( NAT 20! )}

{Actions:
I 5ft step to S13.
I draw a Javelin.
I cast Command (approach) on 5. (DC 13)}
This message was last edited by the player at 22:57, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

The arrow loosed by fletch acted as the spark that lit the fire that was this battle. Though it had missed, his message was clear: “Dont fuck with us.” Seconds after the arrow flew, the Druid spoke to his canine friend, who darted toward the bush cluster, trying to take down one of the men...

***

Aviram was the first to move, stepping slowly parallel to the man with a blow gun, drawing a javelin, his eyes locked, suddenly the colors of his eyes flashed an icy blue in a deep thunderous voice, he commanded the fifth man, “Lower your Guard, and Come!” The man stood and his arms dropped to his sides. Face gone blank... for a moment, and he then began to shake his head violently covering his ears and screaming, “GET OUT OF MY HEAD YOU DAMNED WITCH!”

Command spell~ fail

Aviram: Checks~

***

While his animal companion ran to the attack, Oloven had a plan of his own, speaking under his breath as he drew his quarterstaff, the group could swear they saw his eyes change colors for a moment... Suddenly, out in the open field, vines and thick weeds erupted from the ground, ensnaring the man who spoke, as well as the man who stood in the back. Shooting out so quickly, the men had little to no time to react, though not for lack of trying. Cursing and harsh words are all that came from the man who spoke to the group, cockiness seeming to melt into fear. The larger man in the back, simply stood. Frown on his face, rage easily being able to be seen boiling within his chest. While the vines and weeds shot about, Karn (the dog) darted this way and that on a direct path to one of the men with the blow guns in the brush. Though the dog was fierce as it was large, its dodging and nipping at the heels of the man left the creature with naught but a mouthful of leaves, before he knew it, the dog leapt again, this time he had time to react, pushing at the dogs head, leading it away. This was his lucky day.


In retort as the dog spun about, the man loaded his blow gun with a dart with a light red plume of feathers, loaded it and fired quickly. Perhaps too quickly, the fear of almost having his legs taken off by a 150 lb dog caused him to become clumsy, firing off a dart feet away from the dogs- well feet.



While the man felt a wave of- well feeling cool for fending off a riding dog, his buzz was harshly cut off by a screech. He looked up to see the sheen of a metal point. Gorrum had followed the path of the dog and wheeled back into a powerful thrust. The mans eyes widened as he stumbled backwards and fell into the brush, with a powerful jab, Gorrum thrust. A strike that would make a skewer out of any living creature. Gorrums pleased as a pickle look melted as he looked down the shaft of the spear. Its silver tip hit a target alright, but not the one intended. The man had fallen, legs sprawled out with the spearhead in-between them, jabbed into the dirt, he looked up, coated in sweat and the small skirmisher and exhaled deeply

 -Gorrum miss man 3, concielment successful-


Mere feet away from the events of the dog and Goblin, a fellow creature of green skin darted toward a her target, a man with a sword so large, he needed two hands to wield, there was a catch she didnt notice until it was too late; he was ready. With a fierce flurry of jabs, the man with the large sword did his best to deflect the attacks from the orc woman, sparks flying about as he attempted to keep up, as she realized he had prepared for her to charge, she let out a growl and knelt down, hiding from the blowguns, looking about the area for her next target. As she looked about the area, an arrow hit the ground next to her, she looked down, eyes wide and then followed its trajectory back to its owner. Fletch, who stood with a grimace and an apologetic grin.

***

Quays attention was caught by the sheen of metal running past at a blinding speed, Mitsu had taken a full charge at the other man with the blowgun. The sound of metal, tearing leather, and splatter of blood on leaves. Cut from hip to shoulder, the fifth man stood for a moment before falling to his back with a satisfying crunch into the bushes, Mitsu, with is blade pointed up in the air after his uppercut slash slowly lowered his now crimson blade and with a harsh twist, nearly unnoticeable, the blade was clean, as if it had just been drawn. Blood peppered the small area around him.


“Remmy!” The man with the longsword shouted, clearly being friends with the man mitsu had slashed, quickly ran to the samurai, bringing down a heavy blade to the man. Glare of metal and  sparks danced along the leaves, mitsu had drawn his weapon to his shoulder, holding the blade off his armor, just bearly... Rage overtook the man, and the smirk he gave quay began to melt away as the swords began to shake violently against eachother. With a sudden shout the man leapt in the air, pressing mitsu's sword down, and thrusting upward, piercing the samurai's stomach. A deep exhale came from his lips and the blade was drawn from the weakened body of Mitsu, as he fell to his knees, and then onto his side, blood coming from the front and back of his armor... unmoving...



Quay looked down at the samurai, who in turn was unable to turn to return to the gaze. She began to reach toward him, Suddenly she heard a deep inhale, out of instinct, she bobbed her head off to the left, sending a pink plumed dart sailing into the distatance. A quick glance before her and she was met with the hollow of a blow gun. The man who mitsu had just slashed, lay in the brush, leaves and blood surrounding him. “Bitch...” He grumbled as as he rolled backwards into the brush, hidden from sight.



The man who spoke to them (2) began to laugh, “You lazy sacks of shit/Royalred>!” He said, voice full of a new found anger developing into rage. "<Royalred>What do you make those stupid darts for if you cant hit anything?! I want them all bagged and tagged! DO YOU HEAR ME?!" It was clear he was beginning to feel the heat of battle, not exactly turning in his favor


The (conscious) members, looked at one another, this was certainly not the unfolding they had expected... More importantly, Mitsu was laying in the middle of a battlefield completely unconscious. The men needed to rethink their strategy... Lest they lose a samuari... Or perhaps all get captured.


This message was last edited by the player at 00:00, Sat 20 Feb 2016.

Mitsu continues to lay on the ground, almost motionless while more blood pools around him... He barely moves his arm towards Aviram looking for assistance.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:14, Sun 13 Mar 2016.

In reply to Mitsu Hattori (msg # 55):

Fletch winced a little bit as that final cut came down on the samurai. He looked over once more to see the she-orc drop like a sack of flower, dart protruding from her form. He didn't like the looks of this. He glanced around, knowing he had to make space between him and the blow gun boys. He picked his target(number 4), the one closest to the samurai, and tried to pop a shot off before retreating to a safer distance.

14:16, Today: Fletch rolled 11 using 1d20+5 ((6)).
after letting the arrow go the archer retreated diagonally 30feet(off map, sorry shaun)

Quay glared over at the fallen samurai. She burned with disappointment. He was supposed to be the strong one of these fools but he got cut down in a single strike. She knew that samurai were not meant to be such easy prey. Perhaps this was the reason he was so far from Shan-tai, fleeing some shame of defeat? She switched over her glare to his slayer. Or perhaps this bandit was simply that strong? It never is safe to judge someone on a glance. He will make interesting prey.

Quay pivoted her rear foot, rooting it into the ground. She repositioned her glaive with a swift motion and thrust it forward. She was determined to find out just how interesting he was. She concluded the attack with a step backward.

21:03, Today: Quay rolled 15 using 1d20+5.  Attack, Glaive @ Man #4 (Power Attack: -1)
21:03, Today: Quay rolled 17 using 1d10+8.  Damage, Glaive @ Man 4 (Power Attack: +2)



She then looked at Gorrum and hissed, "Goblin!" Her manner of address had an air of command to it. "You hold your spear strangely. Where are you from!"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:29, Tue 23 Feb 2016.

Gorrum couldn't believe his eyes that his spear had missed the human. He usually killed food on his first stab.

"I'll skin you for dat." he hissed as the man.

Gorrums grins at Quays, and shouted "TREETOWN" while taking off in a run in a semi circle around her, ending up on her other side and taking a look in the bush before deciding to viciously stab the man who had hurt Mitsu.

Gorrum moves to S-11 around Quey
Gorrum Attacks #4
15:03, Today: Gorrum rolled 14 using 1d20+3.  Hit.
15:07, Today: Gorrum rolled 6 using 1d6+1.  Spear Damage.
15:08, Today: Gorrum rolled 3 using 1d6.  Skirmish Bonus.

Artistic Writing:
I see my new friend fall at the hands of our wicked enemy...  even though this man was merely an acquaintance in our prior journey, as were many of my compatriots here; simply fellow victims of the same thief and fellow recipients of the strange invite, now they are more than that.  Now they are my battle brothers and sisters.  They risk life and limb for each other.  I realize it is premature to say this fully, to regard them as full battle brothers and sisters, but it is a step toward it.  I can taste what is spoken of in the homeland- This must be what is held so sacred back in my homeland about combat- This brotherhood.

I know now what I must do, I see Mitsu call for aid, his hand reaches for me.  I must rush headlong into the fray to help him.  He needs my help right away.  "Herr Gott, gib mir Kraft! {translated: Lord, give me strength!}"  My feet begin to move before I know what is happening fully. "Friends! bedecke mich... err, Cover me! Mitsu requires my aid!" Risking myself, I move to Mitsu's side depending upon my companions and my God to protect me. I slide on my knees next to Mitsu to pray.

I pray as I run to his side, "Herr Gott, protect me as I rush into the fray, I can see Your holy angels shielding me from all harm.  Thy angels you command about me lest I dash my foot against a stone, You are mine strong tower, my refuge, my courage, my hope!
     Lord, heal this mans vounds, not based upon his courage, or upon his deeds, though they may be great, but upon our most sure foundation, Your sacrifice completed for us already.  Your blood flowed from your veins and Your back was lacerated that ve might made whole.  Upon the sure vorks of your righteous son!  Be healed in Jesus Name Mitsu-san!" I place my hands upon Mitsu's shoulders as I pray.

Actions:
Move action: I hustle to Mitsu via T13-T12-T11-T10-T9-S9
Standard Action: I cast cure light wounds on Mitsu (Healed 4)
Free Action: I kneel (+2 AC vs Ranged, -2 AC vs Melee)

Rolls:
23:32, Today: Aviram rolled 9 using 1d20+3.  Heal Check, on Mitsu; ShQ.
23:36, Today: Aviram rolled 4 using 1d20+3.  Listen Check, on 5; ShQ.
23:36, Today: Aviram rolled 7 using 1d20+3.  Spot Check, on 5; ShQ.
00:00, Today: Aviram rolled 4 using 1d8+1.  Cure Light Wounds, on Mitsu; ShQ.

Suddenly feeling like he was pulled from death itself, Mitsu gathers his thoughts and attempts to gauge his surroundings. He looks and listens for enemy he was unable to cleave in two.




00:18, Today: Mitsu Hattori rolled 0 using 1d20-1.  Listen check.
00:17, Today: Mitsu Hattori rolled 1 using 1d20.  Spot check.

Only being able to see the Man standing directly in front of him, Mistu does everything he can to grab his katana in both hands. Should the man attempt to end him, he would not go out without swinging first.


This message was last edited by the player at 02:59, Mon 14 Mar 2016.