Ah-ah, ah!
We come from the land of the ice and snow
From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow

The hammer of the gods
W'ell drive our ships to new lands
To fight the horde, and sing and cry
Valhalla, I am coming!

On we sweep with threshing oar
Our only goal will be the western shore

Ah-ah, ah!

We come from the land of the ice and snow
From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow
How soft your fields so green
Can whisper tales of gore
Of how we calmed the tides of war
We are your overlords

On we sweep with threshing oar
Our only goal will be the western shore
So now you'd better stop and rebuild all your ruins
For peace and trust can win the day despite of all your losing

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

H/T Led Zeppelin
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:28, Sat 30 May 2020.

"Aye, laugh if you will! But who knows what shapes of horror have had birth in the darkness, the cold gloom, and the whistling black gulfs of the north? In the southern lands, the sun shines and the flowers bloom; under the soft skies men laugh at demons. But in the north, who can say what elemental spirits of evil dwell in the fierce storms and the darkness."

The Cairn on the Headland
Robert E Howard

Introduction:

Disturbing shadows have grown long over the northern reaches of The Land of Song. The
fierce people who once fished the chilly fjords and hunted in the evergreen peaks now huddle in their villages. An evil is abroad in the land.

Outlying villages and holdings have become abandoned, their populations missing. Hunting parties and traders have vanished. Bandits and worse roam the lands unchecked. The harvests have soured and now, as winter descends, the Clans fear that their meager stores shall not last.

A Moon ago, the six most powerful clans each sent their champion to discover the source of blight. The six never returned, nor has any trace been found. Putting aside his pride, Yngvar, the old Jarl of the Clans, has called for outlander heroes to aid the free peoples, promising great rewards and remembrance in song.

The journey to Yngvar’s halls was long and arduous. The last leaves have fallen, and the cool air blowing off the sea has turned sharp and cold. The first morning frosts already grip the soil.

Siri, the Jarl’s wise woman, has consulted with the ancestors of the Clans. An old evil has arisen, they say, full of anger at the living. The stain on the land originates from the Valley of the Sleeping Jarls, where all the Clans’ chieftains are laid to rest.

The evil will not abate, the ancestors warn, for it bears a great malice for past deeds and hungers for vengeance. Siri has sought to discover what offense has been made, what appeasement can be offered; all for naught.

Two nights ago, guards along the wooden palisade protecting Yngvar’s Hall disappeared. The spring calves have died and the poultry refuse to lay. The heroes are charged with traveling to the Valley of the Sleeping Jarls to discover the source of the malevolence bearing down upon the land and with eradicating it.

The well protected gorge can be found on the easternshoulder of a particularly rugged mountain some three days’ travel from Yngvar’s hall. Who can say what evil lurks amid the towering peaks and shadowed fjords?
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:14, Sun 31 May 2020.

Ten days had passed. Ten days fraught with peril, filled with fear, then finally jubilation as the members of the party successfully navigated both the upper and lower reaches of Quesqueton.

Following the path from the broken door, Gildan led the party a circuitous route around the keep, using his bare skills to evade any more foes. The rest of the group, Bruno, Kullomar, Uthecar, Zan, Myrrick were content to let him lead, though Myrrick did guard the rear.

It wasn't a long trek, several days, but soon enough, they made their way back to The Full Pint Inn. If it wasn't a particularly warm welcome, at least the smell of food cooking heightened their spirits. There were few patrons this early in the day, so they took the biggest table and waited for someone to serve them.

And thus, we start anew...

As the party settles, a server comes from the kitchen to take your orders for drink and food. Suddenly, a small voice calls to table. "Zanfinis?"

Looking up, most of you recognize the lovely elf who'd been here from the start. Lady Serene rushes over, throwing her arms around Zan like a lover. "You're back!" She squeezes Zan tightly, then says, "What happened? Tell me everything!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:29, Sun 31 May 2020.

A stern elf most of you recognize as Lord Antonin follows close behind the Lady Selene. "Yes, tell us everything you can recall, all of you. Everyone has a voice here today. Leave nothing out."

Lord Antonin nods at Myrrick, the dwarves, even Kullonar - though the latter is begrudging. Zan, however, earns a scowl from Selene's seneschel. Noting a newcomer, an elf wearing a sword and bow, he said, "I don't recognize you, lad. Your name?" (DM: he's talking to Gildan)

"We faced horrors Load Antonin, the likes of which are only discussed among soldiers as they share their battle stories over hard drink in the late evening.  I will not sully the light of the day with the details and in front of the lady.  When our order arrives, we will drink in honour to Bruknar our fallen friend who made the ultimate sacrifice within Quesqueton.  I would have you join us to honour his name as we each share a tale of his deeds.  Much of our story you will hear as we each tell our own story of his bravery."

OOC:  I'm not going to go into specific's but it seems like the sort of thing a dwarf would do to honour a fallen friend.  From here Uthecar will probably get rip roaring drunk (probably taking a swig every time Bruknar's name is mentioned) and be useless for the rest of the day as he honours Bruknar dwarven style sining songs out of tune without too much concern.

Lord Antonin seems ready to retort, but Selene puts a gentle hand on her seneschal's arm.

"We are eager to hear your accounts, Master Uthecar," she said. "But your arrival is fortuitous. Lady Everleigh will be arriving shortly - within a few hours - and with a notable guest in tow. So, while I look forward saluting your comrade, whomever that may be, we will have wait for the nonce. Please accept my apologies."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:17, Sun 31 May 2020.

Kullonar says nothing to the lord and lady, giving each a brief nod of his head.
He nods vigorously when Uthecar makes his speech and orders enough food to feed three people, with plenty of beer to wash it all down.
In as quiet a voice as possible, he says to Bruno, "Are we expected to give a dead rat's ass about this Lady Everleigh? What does she have to do with us?"

Hearing Uthecar's outburst Bruno was kicking himself for not having a chat with him before they presented themselves at the Inn and Kullonar's comment to him underlines that thought like a cudgel, "It is upon her behalf that we entered the Fortress to begin with! You do not recall the day or our meeting -- the Lady Selene, Lord Anton, and the rest of these elves serve her.... She wasn't present at the time, but in effect we are working under her banner."

Clearing his throat he takes a step forward, "My Lord, forgive the raggedness of both our appearance and, well, feelings. We have each been tried by, yet are pleased to report on, our mission into Quesqueton. Those of us who have yet to have the honor to meet Lady Everleigh look forward to having the opportunity to report to her directly."

Antonin looked like he'd swallowed bad sardines in bulk, but he kept his mouth shut and let Selene do the talking.

She addressed Bruno with a smile.

"Your grace," she said to Bruno. "Again, you surprise me with your wisdom and poise. Yes, indeed, Lady Everleigh possesses many titles, but one over all others: Monarch. I understand you all are justifiably eager to tell your tales. And If I sit til tomorrow's breaking of the fast, I will hear them. And, I would not be surprised if her Majesty felt the same way. She is puissent in the martial arts in her own right, and is aware of the moods of her people, thus she's not above a fine tale and interesting discourse.

"But, matters related to your delve have been brought to us by our various agents indicating that parlay and perhaps an accommodation of sorts might be reached between Her Majesty and the Frost Barbarians. I have it from her own written hand that the great skald Ukko Hjalmhammur voyages south from Djekul down Grendep Bay, a straight shot that will take him to our shores. You must know, his fame is known throughout the northern realms. He is coming here to discuss opportunities for mutual understanding, perhaps even a treaty.

"Thus, it is that what should have been first on our minds, now must play a lesser role, though not less important in the grander skein of current events."

Bruno swallows the sentence that immediately formed in his mouth and in doing so probably not only saves at least his own head, but reminds himself that they have spent several days in dust and death, "Of course...

It does seem as if our timing is fortuitous. We are at your disposal and shall attend as best suits your requirements for the Arch-Baroness's arrival and needs."

Every bit the aristocrat, every bit the counselor, every bit the noble, Selene nods with calm grace to Bruno and all of the party and says, "You must be hungry for better than rations, no? Antonin, please see to our guests. Anything they would like."

Turning back to Bruno, she said, "I don't expect Lady Everleigh for another couple of turns on the clock. Relax and enjoy your meals. I think, based upon head count that we have enough room for all of you to observe the proceedings, though some may be forced to stand. I hope that is amenable."

A short time later the food arrives. Eggs, steak, mutton stew, potatoes, greens, oranges and reds. Some spicy, some tasty, some bland. Bread, buns, toast, cheese. Ale, wine, Honey-Mead. All of it fresh, tasty and you all eat your fill.

"A Prodigious effort," she said. "Now, if I could steal two of my folk from you for but a short while. Zanfinas, Myrrick. Antonin and I would like a word, please."

Despite gentle words, there is a the tone of command at her request. A moment later, Selene & Antonin lead Zan and Myrrick away.

Near as you can guess, based upon Selene's estimate, there is about an hour left before Everleigh's arrival. Talk amongst yourselves.

Happy for real food and something more than questionable water from his waterskin, Bruno tucks in to the feast.

Turning to Gilden he says, "Myrrick and Zan are in service to Lady Selene and her uncle Lord Antonin. Well, I suppose I should be a bit more specific: she is daughter of Earl D'Inarial, Protector of the Lower Rakers and the Timberway. He is her guardian and a Baronet. We undertook the investigation of the ruins in which we met in their name as servants of the Arch-Baroness.

He takes another bite of steak savoring the bloody meat, "I am uncertain we ever told you why we were down there, though I know we asked you your reasons.... Which seemed a bit vague to me at the time."

Myrrick stood and bowed to Selene, "Forgive my silence, of course, shall we venture out of doors for a moment?" Myrrick follows the group outside.

Uthecar digs into the feast with gusto, along with the beer, completely sick of trail rations.  Between mouthfuls he mumbles something about needing to hear the sound of a beat and dwarven drums.  "We really need a throng of dwarves feasting and drinking to properly send off Bruknar.  One of the benefits of soldiering is there are always many comrades in arms, that is sadly lacking when private adventuring."  Between mouthfuls he sings lines of what sounds to be dwarven drinking songs.  The lines are a mismatch of what must be his favourite parts of various songs.  He is starting to create quite a din, often placing Bruknar's name in where perhaps a dwarven hero's name might have been said if the words he sung were true to the lyrics.  He opts between banging his tankard down on the table and using the blunt end of the knife of fork he is using to eat with to keep a beat, along with stamping his feet.  For all his faults and his crassness he is doing his best to create some atmosphere for Bruknar as he drinks and feasts to his health and safe travels to his afterlife.

"The names Quester, m'lord, he says then looks at his companions and stutters for a second, "Th-that is to say, Gildan. Gildan Stalker. I chanced upon these fine lads when I was on my own quest."

He accepts Bruno's explanation of the group dynamics without comment and replies, "Your cause was just, that was why I joined you. I trust the gods have led you to me because your cause will continue to be just."

Bruno nods in response to Gildan as he takes another bite of steak, "By Moradin I should hope so, my friend."

He gives the elf a quick glance as he takes a sip from his mug, "Forgive me, my friend, but you often refer to the gods... Yet, I do no know who you worship."

Gildan shrugs, "They never tell me their names," he says and leaves it at that.

Kullonar bows to lady Celene, acknowledging her station and thanking her for the feast.
Then, he sits with his friends and eats quietly, savoring every bite.
He smiles at Uthecar...and nods along with the songs, stomping his foot with the Dwarf.

To Bruno he says, "What do you think of the barbarian king's arrival? Does he really seek peace? Or is this visit a ruse for more nefarious intentions?"
He takes a bite of buttered bread, speaking around it, "I am not accusing the King of such...but the Frost Barbarians have long desired this land. Have they not?"

Bruno gives Gildan a look begins to speak, pauses and begins to speak again; however, before he can Kullonar asks him a question. The look on his face is one of relief as he turns to the half-orc, "Erm, I don't know, Brother... Though, politics are politics, aren't they?

"I mean, well, what is not outright evil, may seem nefarious to a hearer, yet be something decidely worthy and even honorable to he who speaks it."

He grabs his mug again, but before putting it to his mouth say, "So, I suppose if he says he is coming here to possibly talk alliance as Lady Selene said he is, we've got to give him the benefit of the doubt."

Gildan, who isn't even going to pretend to understand or care about the political situation, simply picks underneath his fingernails and ignores.

Kullonar sips his beer and listens to Bruno.
"While I defer to thy wisdom, brother, honesty and truthfulness are tenets of the Cudgel...and I've never known a barbarian to uphold either for very long."

Bruno chuckles, "Well, it esems to me that while they may not be civilized they might certainly understand when and why an alliance is useful....

"And it seems to me that history is rich with the examples of the civilized to fail to be true and honest.

"So, perhaps when it comes to politics practicalities are more useful than ideals and even a barbarian will adhere to an agreement that serves mutual practical needs."

Taking another sip from his mug he leans back with a comfortable smile, "Whatever the case, it's for the Arch-Baroness and her diplomats to deal with and since I am not one of them my blather is irrelevant. If nothing else, as Lady Selen suggested we know of Ukko Hjalmhammur in the halls of the Hill Holds, and I hope he will perform for us one of his works."

Uthecar stops, looks up from his food ceasing his fairly tuneless renditions of battled dirges for a moment and turns his head to look around at the people about him.  Something was being discussed, he'd caught snippets but none of it sounded more interesting than the beer in front of him.  He went back to his feast, calmed a little that he had done the best he could for Bruknar, now he only had to honour him properly by getting rip roaringly pissed.

OOC: Damm teach me to look away for several days.  LOL

A bit of back posting
Zan smiled when he saw Selene, and gave her a loving hug. "Ahhh... we were able to survive.  My Dwarven friends are quite the warriors.  Lots of undead, they really do stink you know."

Zan eyed Lord Antonin and gave him the customary bow that the status of his position demanded.

Zan sat and ate before being called away for a private conversation.  "Of course, as my lady wishes"

... More to come shortly
This message was last edited by the player at 19:04, Fri 12 June 2020.

After some 15 to 20 minutes, Zan returned to the others looking a bit put off.  He looked at the food on the table, "Don't have much of an appetite anymore." He looked like he was ready to take his leave of this place.  He did, however, pick up a full tankard of ale take several large gulps that would make any dwarf proud.  "I need a bed and a pretty lass to share it with."

"Are you alright, lad? Has this state of mind been induced by his Lordship, her Ladyship, or something else all together?"

"Aye or something.  Seems Serene, has official duties to wed a curate in the Ehlonna'i'an has something to do with mounting peace between Ratik and the Frost Barbarians."

He took another swig of ale, "And as for us, ahhh..  you probably don't want to know right now."

Bruno sighs and looking back at Kullonar with a grim smile, "Like I said, politics."

Turning back to Zan, "I am sorry that you did not hear news you wished to hear or expected.

"The next few hours promise to be interesting..."

Lifing his mug and standing, "My friends, Brunknar was a good dwarf. We know this because for several days we fought beside him.

"That said, for several more days those of us here, well, aside from Gilden, but like Brunkar he has proved himself; anyway, for longer than we knew that good dwarf the rest of us have been together a team.

"This means that like iron in a forge we, together, are now different, better, than we were before we left this inn to first investigate Quesqueton.

"I raise this mug to you, Brunkar, and all those others that fought with us and fell down there.

"But Most importantly, I raise this to you lot and our friendship. I know that we shall be more than whatever challenges lay before us in the coming days, becaues of what we have been through together! It is my honor to be your comrade."

Uthecar dons an expression of drunken stupor. In short order, he's snoring on the bench between Bruno and Kullonar. Every now and again, a small snort, burp or fart - the stinky kind - emanates from his various orifices. Eventually, he is taken to room upstairs - he needs two of the party members to move him - in the inn to sleep his drink off, much to Bruno's relief.

The rest of you ponder the various circumstances that have led to this moment. Some, like Zan, are pensive and bit heart heavy. Others, like Bruno are engaged by the discussion and questions of what comes next.

In time, you hear the sound of heavy armor and the heavy clop of warhorses shoes on pavement along with the sound of captains barking orders. Selene, who has waited patiently, stands. She offers a quick glance at Zan, then steels herself for what's to come.


At last, Everleigh's guards enter and look around. Noting the group sitting around the table, their leader barks, "These are guests unaccounted for!" Swords are drawn and he seems angry about it.

A moment later, Everleigh flows into the inn. Finding Selene, she asks, "You're agents, Selene?" Selene nods and Everleigh turns to her captain. "They are my honored guests. Leave them where they are."

Soon thereafter, an entourage of twelve enters, led by a very tall man (6' 6"), older but wiry and deep creases in his face. The Skald. He glances at the party. "These are the ones who cracked Quesqueton?" he asked Everleigh. He speaks with a very distinct accent, almost harsh, yet the timbre of it is seemly, like a father telling tales by the fireside to a host of children. For some reason, all of you grow calm and quiet and wait for the what of what will transpire.

More forthcoming.

Selene, glance did not go unnoticed by Zan.  Which only made him reach to the mug once more and take another swig.  Better to keep his mouth shut.  He took a big sigh.

The Lady Everleigh seems unique in that she doesn't seem to stand on ceremony, rather circumstance seems to dictate her actions, even in an orchestrated event like this. She's actually very short in her words, making a brief introduction to those assembled of her honored guests.

One of the first to be introduced is a youthful, somewhat bookish elf wearing spectacles of all things. Not something most would expect. Selene, graceful and lithe, makes her way next to him. Everleigh introduces him a 'the Curate Toran Lucius Crevellar,' a member of the Ehlonna'i'an. The sword at his side speaks to a certain martial bent, to go along with his holy orders. Selene puts her hand on his arm, a light touch, and his smile is one of relief and hope.

The litany isn't as long as most High Events would call for, but it still takes time for every one to be acknowledged. Even the band of adventurers are introduced as 'The Heroes of Quesqueton.'

That draws a few murmurs.

Ukko takes the floor and looks around, a small, pensive frown upon his face.

"My friends," he starts. "These are historic times. Truth told, not long past our ships raided your shores, only to later be fired by your own Navy."

A rueful grin plays across his lips, one that engenders warmth, and he admits, "Much better we should break bread and find common cause."

"But, unfortunately, in this moment, brevity and honesty must rule the day. There is a place north of Djekul called the Land of Song. It is a place of soaring mountains with beautiful vistas, and folk as hardy and strong as the mountains themselves. For long years, they protected our northern borders. Few raiding parties got past our patrols without a swift and terrible justice. But..."

He trails off for a moment, looks at the assembled, then said, "Brevity and honesty. I am here to ask your help. An ancient menace threatens our peace. The Land of Song is under siege. The old Jarl, Yngvar, who has led successfully for many a year, is failing and his folk lack leadership. There is a pall over the land that speaks to dread. The six clans sent their greatest champions a month ago, but they have not returned. One of them is my nephew, a great warrior, but we fear the worst. Rumor has it that there is a might host that is biding its time, waiting for an advantageous moment to strike. Worse, tales tell of disappearances, of walking dead, of people fleeing to Djekul in droves because they don't feel safe anymore in the heights. But Djekul cannot endure with so many refugees.

"So, here I am, to make a plea to ma sister Everleigh and her gentry. Help us! Please. Else we will be overrun in the north. If the north fails, it will only be a matter of time that Ratik will face this same, enigmatic threat."

His speech finished, Ukko looks at the assembled and asks, "Will you help us?"

As he listens and watches Bruno first hopes that Zan can keep control of himself and not lunge across the room to shove the spectacles from his nose down his throat, but as the great Skald speaks he begins to understand the subtext that has foreshadowed their return from Quesqueton.

He pushes aside the concerns that while they completed their investigation there is still that Hobgoblin chieftain well-established sitting on his throne back there, but it seems that this is no longer their concern. Pushing back his instinct to sit quietly until being called upon, the warrior priest realizes that he and his comrades are probably going to be thrust into something new and, seemingly, much more dangerous.

Clearing his throat he bows respectfully to the Archbaron and the renown Emissary, "If I may, Your Valorous Prominence and Honorable Ambassador, since we have arrived from Quesqueton there have been many vague suggestions about what our betters might next set us upon. If it is to be that you will ask us to take off for the great white north, which I understand to be a beauty way to go, is there no more for us to know about this 'ancient menace' than that it is 'ancient' and 'menacing'?"

There is a ruckus from upstairs, followed by several bangs, crashes and choice words in dwarven as the creator rights himself and then flips into common, "Easy Uthecar, stool put in stupid place, not a threat to anyone now."  There is the sound of lumber being kicked about, as if the said stool found a foot that moved it across the room.  More stumbling is heard as the noise maker finds his bearings probably unaware the sound he is making carries so far.  "Not good falling asleep in the middle of life celebration to comrade Bruknar.  Good dwarf, even if we did not know him long.  Fell bravely as dwarf should weapon in hand.".

Soon there is the sound of heavy footfalls on the steps down into the common room, and a look of surprise from Uthecar when he sees the dignitaries present, half drunkenly coming to the wrong conclusion  "Did Uthecar miss the ceremony to Bruknar?". He shakes his head looking to sit on the first bench he can find.  "Uthecar getting soft, even lost drinking tankard.  Carry on," he declares as he slumps down.

Everyone stops to stare at the half-drunk, half hungover dwarf.

Gildan, feeling a need to break the tension as Uthecar stumbles into the room, breaks into a song to distract everyone. The song is a tale of an ancient hero among his people who witnessed his love's death at the hands of rivals and swore to kill them all. He was successful but died of exhaustion the moment his blade felled the final murderer.
Unfortunately, Gildan has forgotten the words so rather than breaking out into song he just starts humming loudly while holding his arms akimbo.
Meanwhile, in the back of his mind he is thinking ancient evils sound much more interesting than politics.

OOC: Let me know if I'm overdoing it everyone. I'm trying to play him as uncomfortably awkward and direct because he doesn't care about social norms and thinks killing evil things is the only worthwhile activity.

Selene stares wide-eyed and Antonin looks apoplectic. The norms of Selene's new office forbid her from intervening, so she is stuck next to her betrothed and unable to do anything to help the situation.

Antonin has no such restraint. Pointing at Gildan, he shouts, "YOU! Get him - points at Uthecar - out of here, now. And if you can't do it alone, all of you can leave."

Turning toward Lady Everleigh and Ukko, he apologizes profusely saying, "Milord Skald, Lady Everleigh, my apologies. I accept full responsibility for this upheaval in decorum. If necessary, you have my resignation should you ask for it."

Ukko is bemused. Then he starts laughing. "The dwarves in the north throw a good party. I see they may have met their match, though. Gentle folk...well p'raps not so gentle folk, go have fun. Take one of the inn's kegs as a gift of appreciation for your efforts in Quesqueton. Just be sure not miss the ship in the morning. Us old folk don't sleep so well anymore and I like to get an early start."

Bruno stands clearly as frustrated as Antonin, but, perhaps, for somewhat different reasons.

Turning to the Archbaron, "My Lady, you had planned a major diplomatic event for today. One that is very important.

"We planned to celebrate returning from a harrowing adventure. One in which we lost more than one comrade in arms. Indeed, not only the honorable dwarf, Bruknar, but a good lad from this very Inn, who called himself, Weasel.

"We expect nothing from you in return for these losses and the blood each of us spilled. So, we acknowledge the generosity of the keg offered by the Honorable Skald with thanks. But we are men and will not be sent out like children who have misbehaved!"

He holds up a hand, "Especially, if you expect that after so many days in continuous action you expect us to board a ship early tomorrow and depart to lands unknown for an unknown length of time. Rather, may I suggest that those of us who have no mind for the details of such matters, like Uthecar and whomever else," He gives Giland a somewhat confused glance, "may excuse themselves and continue their celebrations while you not only better inform us of the misson you would have us undertake, but hear a report on the one we just finished...."

He pauses giving Antonin a significant look and continuing in a slightly lower tone, "So that you know better the state of things within Quesqueton before we depart taking that vital information with us?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:03, Tue 09 June 2020.

The Lady Everleigh, Protectoress of the Realm of Ratik and it's surrounds stirs herself at last.

Looking at Ukko, she said, "Did I not tell you, Master Skald? Everyone has an opinion, no one bides in patience. Even after being invited to an important parlay because of service to the crown, service that I am thankful for, they still find fault with my comportment as their leader."

With a long suffering sigh, her blue eyes ablaze, she turned and said to Bruno, "Two things before you start your report: first, I can read between the lines so be pithy. Second, I not only expect you and your comrades to go to the Land of Song, I will carry you there if I must. Your group's tomfoolery puts me in a position where the only alternative you have is a cage hanging from the walls. You embarrassed me, you embarrassed my guest, and you made a mockery of this preceding...make no mistake, that fortress your folk uses atop the heights is in MY territory, thus making you my subject. My will rules here. So be prepared for the Land of Song...or a long stay in the the gaol. Your choice. Now, you have five minutes. Speak!"

Bruno takes a breath realizing that he has crossed a line and no matter how justified he felt in doing so it had been an error. Words spoken in anger are always misheard and probably misthought to begin with, he chides himself.

Clearing his throat, "There still remains a well led tribe of Hobgoblins, who nearly overcame us, within Quesqueton. We met them after we had been throughout the first floor of the place, so two or three days in. Just at the point when the battle seemed to be turning against us their leader came forward and offered a deal: he would stop the attack and heal our wounds if we would continue into the depths beneath the fortress and clear out what we found. It was our intention to do this anyway, so it seemed a reasonable, and honorable, way to live long enough to conclude our mission.

"This leader is Dag em Dag, of the Dread Skull Clan. He called himself the wisdom of his folk and scion of Maglubiyet. Whatever the case he was certainly wizened and knows magic.

"His tribe is well-trained and armed. It was our thought that upon our return we would report this and assist a larger force in rooting out this tribe as Dag em Dag seems to think the fortress belongs to him and his people. (In my estimation there are at least 20 warriors remaining after we killed about 10 of them, but given the situation we were unable to do a more accurate count.)"

"Tomfoolery?" Kullonar growls, standing up, his reddish eyes ablaze, ignoring much of what Bruno just said.

"By the Cudgel! We lost good men in that hell hole! Good men in your service, my lady. I will not sit idly by and let their honor be disparaged or dismissed.
"While your men were cleaning their armor, we were cleaning blood and gore from our faces and trying to stay alive one more day, in hopes we might feel the sun on our faces once again.
"Heroes of Quesqueton? Hardly. More like survivors. And fortunate to be so. The Hobgoblin tribe could have likely wiped us out...and are certainly gaining strength while we argue and give reports.
"Perhaps some of your men could polish the rust off their swords and take care of that problem for you while we board ships bound for the frozen North."

Kullonar wants to say more, but instead he glances at Bruno (who must be giving him the "shut the hell up!" look) and sits down. He loosens his morningstar...fully prepared for the worst.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Tue 09 June 2020.

A dark scowl colors Everleigh's face but her voice was calm as she said, "Enough priest. Do you know how often I've wiped up the gore and blood of loved ones, or covered their face with the funeral shroud? I am not new to battle. This sword at my hip has drunk the blood of my foes. So I give much respect to your friend and may he be carried swiftly to Moradin's Forge. Spend the time now lifting a tankard in his honor. We still have work do, and time is fleeting."

To Bruno, she adds, "Pithy. Well done. We had suspicions of humanoids in the dark places beneath our lands. I will send my rangers and paladins. Please write a brief report, specifically the location of Mad Zelligar's keep and leave it with my seneschal, Antonin. It will be a burden lifted once I know for certain that this tribe is vanquished."

Now, go enjoy your evening. You should celebrate. You faced the darkness and returned unbowed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:51, Wed 10 June 2020.

Myrrick returned from his speaking with Antonin to raised voices and a seemingly tense situation. His smile never wavered, genuine, he'd happily work the middle of this situation to smooth it if need be. "Lady Everleigh, forgive my brief absence, Antonin requested my attention and the conversation drug on longer than expected. I trust my companions gave you a full and detailed report? As far as the venture to the Land of Song, I will be ready to go in the morning at your word." he remained in a polite, half bow position until Everleigh addressed him, then, he would take his seat with a chuckle and add, "Did the save any drink for me?"

Bruno feels some relief at the Archbaron's tone, but the wound still needs tending. When she dismisses them he salutes and having recovered himself sufficiently his face is clear of the anger he felt moments ago.

When he sits and Myrrick joins them chuckling his ire begins to rise again, but he quickly realizes that the elf knows these nobles better than he and if he is taking such a light tone then perhaps Bruno really did take something wrongly, "Well, we've got a uncorked keg, comrade, and Uthecar hasn't had chance for another cup so there might still be a sip available... But we'd all better move fast, because The Devourer of The Ales has risen again!"

The early evening goes predictably: Everyone get's a little twisted, has a good time. The Barbarian Fighter, Uthecar gets more twisted than most, tries to head butt Kullonar, but misses and falls down laughing. Gildan seems a bit perplexed, but enjoys the festivities and somehow manages to stave off questions about where he's from and what he was doing. Bruno relaxes, realizes suddenly that what happened wasn't really about him, that the higher ups were under tremendous strain. Zan sat pensive, sipping his ale and not saying very much, while Myrrick goes at it with a little more gusto and his face colors a rose blush as the night wears on.

Somehow Quesqueton recedes in your memory and you find a simple happiness in each others company. It strikes several of you: What strange and funny companions, elf and dwarf, and even briefly, a couple of gnomes. You wonder about them - did they make it home? And Uthecar shouts out a toast to them as well.

Then, wonder of wonders: Lady Everleigh exits the inn, with several notables in tow, some you recognize, others you don't. Ukko's there, strums a few cords. Everleigh asks, "Is there ale left in that keg? (there is plenty, despite the party's best efforts). She dips a tankard and quaffs deeply, then offers a belch that might make Uthecar blush. "You're in for a treat, lads," she said with a grin. With a nod at the Skald, she said, "The floor is yours, Master Bard." Settling in, she awaits the man's pleasure.

Bruno watches Myrrick and Zan's response when Lady Everleigh joins them. If they stand, he too is ready to stand, etc. When she takes a deep quaff and rips a riotous burp he finds himself relieved not because it was funny and unexpected, but because THIS is who he had expected her to be in the first place. The moment proved the pressure that she had been under earlier and lifts the weight he had felt despite his jovial imbibing since sitting down.

When she announces that Ukko would perform he turns his attention to the Skald enthusiastically.

Ukko stands, looks around, says, "You don' strike me as a poetry crowd." There's a gleam in his eyes as he says so, but still: "I've a poem, some mild verse, thoughts profound and weighty. Judge, or not, as you see fit."

With that, he strums a couple of cords as a backdrop to his verse, then, in a singsong voice he begins:

"Even the bravest that are slain shall not dissemble their surprise
On waking to find valor reign even as on Oerth, in paradise;

And where they sought without the sword, wide fields of asphodel fore'er
to find the utmost reward, of daring should be still to dare.

The light of heaven falls whole and white and is not shattered into dyes
the light forever is morning light, the hills are verdured pasture wise;

The angel hosts with freshness go, and seek with laughter what to brave-
And blinding all is the hushed snow, of the far distant breaking wave.

And from a clifftop is proclaimed the gathering of souls for birth
The trial by existence named, the obscuration upon earth.

And the slant spirits trooping by, In streams and cross and counter streams
Can but give ear to that sweet cry, for its suggestion of what dreams!

And the more loitering are turned, to view once more the sacrifice
Of those who for some good discerned will gladly give up paradise.

And a white shimmering concourse rolls toward the throne to witness there
The speeding of devoted souls which God makes his especial care.

And none are taken but who will, having first heard the life read out
That opens earthward, good and ill beyond the shadow of a doubt

And very beautifully, God limns, and tenderly life's little dream
But naught extenuates or dims setting the thing that is supreme

Nor is there wanting in the press some spirit to stand simply forth
Heroic in it's nakedness, against the uttermost of earth

The tale of earth's unhonored things sounds nobler there than 'neath the sun
And the mind whirls and the heart sings, And a shout greets the daring one

But always God speaks at the end - One thought in agony of strife
The bravest would have by for friend the memory that he chose the life;

But the pure fate to which you go, Admits no memory of choice
Or the woe, were not earthly woe, to which you give the assenting voice

And so the choice must be again, but the last choice is still the same;
And the awe passes wonder then; and a hush falls for all acclaim.

And God has taken a flower of gold and broken it and used therefrom
The mystic link to bind and hold, spirit to matter till death come.

'Tis of the essence of life here, though we choose greatly, still to lack
the lasting memory at all clear that life for us on the wrack

nothing but we somehow chose; Thus, are we wholly stripped of pride,
in the pain that but one close, bearing it crushed and mystified.

H/T Robert Frost.

Zan, got up and when Lady Everleigh joined them, giving a polite bow.  He waited till she took a seat before sitting back down himself.  He was still mostly lost in thought.  His drinking had slowed as he wanted to keep some wits about himself, besides with all of the drinking going on, Coin purses were always looser.  Money wouldn't replace the news deal him this day, but with what was being asked yet again from this group, doesn't hurt to have some extra funds.  Besides we be the freking heroes of the moment.

"Ah," said Ukko the next morning. "The morning never lies." He snorts in laughter at the bleary eyes of those who indulged in a bit too much celebration. Still - and perhaps not surprisingly, the party is up and awake and ready to go. Dwarven constitution and Elven metabolism...

Torin, up before the dawn to perform the sunrise ritual with Selene, approaches the party to introduce himself & talk about what his role is. He also gives a briefing that sketches out what he knows of the current situation in the Land of Song.

"My understanding is that the Land of Song has been besieged by a plethora of foes."

His voice is quiet, though somehow seems to reach everyone's ears.

"As of right now, I'm not sure of the nature of these foes - information has been lacking. There are rumors of undead. What I do know is that the six predominant clans have bottled themselves up in their fortresses, leaving the outlanders to fend for themselves.

"Many have made their way to the closest keeps. Many more have gone missing. My most recent missive from Yngvar, the predominant Jarl of the Land of Song, indicates that watch-standers have gone missing from his wall - it's as if they had never existed. Yngvar indicated that he's since tripled the watch. Now, his resources are strained almost to a breaking point. The last word I've had from him indicates their situation is dire.

"Our mission is three fold. First, to reconnoiter and determine the nature of the threat. Second, to identify strategies that can effectively neutralize the threat. Third and perhaps most important, find and shelter those refugees trying to escape from the depredations.

"We have put together an away team, a group of professional soldiers, if you will, who will lead the charge against this foe."

Looking the assembled group, he said, "Your job is to be our eyes and ears, and to engage opportunistically with the foe in order to gain a perspective on what we face."

"Are there any questions?"

Ukko's poem was a profound end to a strange day and while he did have a mug or two more afterwards his body and mind were weary and he looked forward to the first mattress he has had in many days.

If nothing else, Bruno thinks upon waking the next morning, we have new problems to deal with today. I can't say that I'm sorry about that!

After his morning meditations, Bruno writes the report making it brief as possible detailing what he knows of the Dead Skull Clan and their leader (adding in any details that others in the party might have shared with him as things he missed in what had spoken earlier) and the weird cavern (#53) that they never did clear out completely in the depths. The other thing he makes sure to note is the number of adventurers that still seem to be mucking about on both floors of Quesqueton. [They came across at least 3 other groups of adventurers, didn't they?]

Once that is complete he leaves it with Antonin's secretary and goes in search of breakfast. When Torin joins them he glances at Zan, but gives the elf priest his full attention. When asked it there were any question he nods, "So, we are your 'away team'. Once we have investigated what are next steps? That is, will we be reporting back to you or somebody else here in Ratik or to King Yngvar?"

"You'll be reporting to me and I will then be reporting directly to Jarl Yngvar" Torin said. "Although I don't expect you to stop what you're doing with each each day that goes by. You'll have a lot of freedom to proceed how you will. Why don't we say, two weeks out initially, then come back and report. As things progress, we can tweak that a bit either way, depending upon how things go."

Torin pauses before adding, "It is good that men of the cloth are in abundance. I've had word that a Paladin of Pelor is waiting for us in Djekul. The more the merrier if rumors of the numbers of undead are true."

"Abundant blessings, but loud steps. We will have to be careful, especially in an unfamliar land. Bruno and the rest have proven their worth, I'm thankful to have them by my side, especially if there are more undead up there."

"Of course," Torin said. "You wouldn't be here if the the Lady Everleigh hadn't thought so well of you. As it stands, I have complete confidence in all of you based upon your reputation. I'm told that Quesqueton was a tough nut to crack and that you did good things. I'm looking forward to more of the same. Now, lets get down the shore. With fair winds we should make the Frost Barbarian Capitol in about a day and a half."

Uthecar is quiet, not adding to the questions or conversation much.  He seems a little out of spirits but is probably just recovering from the night before.

Surprised he wasn't incarcerated for his insolence, Kullonar listened to the poem and was amazed at its depth. Taking his bed, his sleep was not as restful as he would have liked, so he rose early, said his prayers and went for breakfast.

Hearing Torin lay out the plan only added to his disgruntlement and so he ate in silence, never even looking at the man.

Bruno nods a thanks to Myrrick as he speaks to the Curate, "It will be good to have somebody from the Great White North with us as we investigate this matter in those lands.

"You've answered the questions that come to my mind. We will be leaving shortly or will we have time to attend to equipment and resupply today?"

Torin said, "You don't need to resupply until we get to Djekul. There will be plenty of material available in the Capitol city; my understanding is that the Jarl will provide for most of your needs. Let's get on toward the coast, any other questions can be discussed while enroute."

Bruno looks around to his fellows and stands with a nod, "Very well, I shall need to re-pack what little I unpacked and shall be ready directly."

Zan arrived to the start of the meeting a tad be late, he could be seen swatting one of the lovely young lasses from last night on the bottom.  "Until the next time, that out paths cross".  He seems a bit on the happier side, thought you were unsure whether it was genuine or not, especially with how he was last night.


He sat down returning Bruno's glance and listened to the conversation.  "So we are to be advanced scouts for Jarl."

"Yes, Zanfinas. That's exactly right. I'm hopeful this can bottled up fairly quickly, a case of overactive imaginations, but we prepare for the worst.

A moment occurs: Toran looks at all of you and says, "For what it's worth, I've been in your shoes. I've fought drow and giants, dragons and demons. My brother died in the battle with the dragon, an adult black female on the hunt. I know your fear and your excitement, and I know what it means to be part of a group of special folk, ones who are willing to die for what they believe in. So thank you for your courage and thank you for your service to strangers you've never met. I hope fervently that Ehlonna or whomever you worship keeps all of you safe as you defend and protect those who need your help."
This message was last updated by the player at 23:30, Fri 12 June 2020.

Kullonar turns away and goes to pack his meager belongings.
While in his room, he offers prayers to St. Cuthbert for wisdom in making decision, safety for his companions, and patience in dealing with fools.

Once packed, he returns downstairs and assembles with his companions.
"Let's do this."

There are two Dragon ships waiting on the northern coastal region of Ratik, both capable of using what the sea and wind provide, as well as twin banks of oars. The Grendep Bay is frothy as legions of waves make for the shore.

The party stays together on the smaller ship, helping as needed, though not very often since the trade winds push your ship along at a fair 3-4 knots. The other ship, slightly bigger, stays on your port quarter (left and aft for you landlubbers).

Day One is uneventful, the ships moving at a consistent pace - 3-4 knots. Running lights (Continual light spells) keep the ships together. When dawn breaks, you note red skies color the morning sky.

Day two: Yes, I rolled a natty 20 on the wandering monster table.

A nasty squall comes in, the event presaged by the morning light (Red sky in morning, sailor take warning). Tethers are attached to each sailor, even the deck watch, both whom study the bay closely fore and aft. As evening draws nigh, the weather weakens to a constant mist that is cold and miserable.

Suddenly, something large bumps the ship on the port side, hard enough that you're thankful for the tethers. Looking over the side, you see a massive shape (about the size of two large bulls) swimming alongside the ship. From what you can tell, it is pale, and seems to have a sharp horn atop its head. Across the way, the other ship is trying to hail you, but you can't hear a thing over the roar of the sea.

Actions?
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:46, Sun 14 June 2020.

Bruno has never been at sea before and as the moments passed between the time he began to repack his gear to the time they boarded their vessel his anxiousness grew. Luckily Moradin has already gifted him with his Gift of Foresight, so before heading to the docks he meditated for 10 minutes to augar this voyage and accepted the message he received. And the message bouyed, as a seaman might say, his spirits.

In the coming hours he would take several deep breaths to calm himself and attempted to learn as much as he could about being aboard a ship once he was on it. That is, he watched what sailors did,keeping a particular eye on those who seemed to be experienced non-sailors, and followed their examples. The morning they awoke to red skies he was struck by their beauty and it was not until he noted the discomfort of the crew that he himself became alarmed.

Accordingly, when they began tethering themselves he pushed aside the thought, But if the ship goes down, won't we go down with it?, and did as told. He also loaded his crossbow and once loaded he calls upon the Soul Forger for his Blessing.

OOC: +1 to Hit and Savings Throws for everyone within 60'!!!
This message was last edited by the player at 17:08, Sun 14 June 2020.

Kullonar begins to feel sick even before they get on the ship!
And by Day 2, he is miserable and takes to wearing no shirt since he has puked on two already. No longer carrying his bucket, he staggers on deck and lashes himself to the railing...like everyone else.
Seeing the large white...creature alongside the ship, Kullonar is at first amazed at such, and then tries to understand what the other ship is signaling about.

OOC: I need to pick my spells before anything happens...

Myrrick will ready his bow, should the need arise to use it. Unless handed a harpoon(if they have them). Myrrick will also work on understanding the other ships meaning of the shouts, clearly had to do with the large creature slamming into the boat.

There are indeed harpoons aboard the ship - one never knows when opportunity for food or other resources might knock. The captain of the ship seems more inclined to leave be, though he doesn't offer any explanation why, probably because he's too busy trying to keep apace of the other ship while not sinking his ship in the process.

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

The behemoth is getting frisky along side the boat. Suddenly, it dives, then comes up on the starboard side of the ship for another look. It bumps the dragon ship, splashes water over the  prow, then spits water from a tiny hole atop it's head. None in the party have ever seen such a sight - it is quite frightening, especially with that huge horn atop it's head.

Then it disappears beneath the waves.

Collectively, you all take a deep breath...when suddenly it breaches to starboard beside you and dumps what seems a ton of water into the boat. Everyone with sense begins to bail, throwing out water as quickly as they can as the beast again dives beneath the waves. After a few minutes, it seems the pale creature has grown bored with it's fun and moved on.

Bailing water keeps Kullonar somewhat focused and not thinking how much he needs to dry heave.
"What type of creature was that?" he asks the nearest person, companion or sailor.

Relief that it didn't come to battle is somewhat 'drown' out by the sudden realization that even with his renown dwarven might keeping himself afloat in his armor was going to be a challenge. Accordingly, when the sea-beast douses them with a floom of water Bruno jumps to help bail listening for commands from the Captain or sailors who seem to know what they are doing.

For the most part Uthecar unexpectedly loves the motion of the waves.  Finding his sea legs took a little time, and he was bumped around for the most part laughing as the ships motion caused him to stumble into the railing and others.

To Kullonar he suggest "Narwhale perhaps?" as he too lends a hand to bail the ship.  Unlike his friend he now seemed quite at home in the sea spray, his legs placed firmly for stability, as the water washed around him.  Given his short stature he was easily able to stoop with the bucket to scoop the seawater overboard.

After the adventure with the whale (a Narwhal for those interested), the next day isn't quite as dramatic. The party make's port at the Frost Barbarian's southern landing, not too far from Djekul. It is midday.

Toran organizes folks, briefly gives them marching orders - quite literally; It's about a three hour march to the Frutzi's second city. It is a rugged country, with soaring peaks and cold trade winds.

When you get to Djekul, you stay has already been arranged. In truth, you'll be there overnight before heading out again. Toran warns everyone to 'be on their best behavior - he doesn't name names, but the guilty know who they are! One thing for sure, most of you are happy to be on dry land once again.

That night, the dinner is filling, the ale is pretty good. The next morning you begin the trek to the Land of Song.
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ooc: now is your last chance to pick items you've forgotten. Standard PHB prices are in effect.

Kullonar literally falls to his knees and spends a few moments in prayer once he reaches landfall again. The cold, damp earth under his knees is quite welcoming.
That night in the hall, he nibbles at his food and sips gingerly at the ale; his stomach is still a bit queasy. While he sips, he keeps recalling the "narr-wall"...wondering if it was a sign from St. Cuthbert telling him he would be alright. He takes out ink & quill, and fresh parchment and draws a rough sketch of the creature.
He has plans for possibly a new tunic once this is all over.

In reply to Kullonar (msg # 71):

Sitting in the corner eating his fill of fish and beef sits a man of medium height, 5'9" 175 pounds, he wears a white tabard with the Holy Symbol of Pelor emblazoned upon it. The symbol is also emblazoned in base relief on his shield. He wears white furs over his full plate armor and tabard for warmth. He has a tankard full of frothy ale he drinks from heartily. He looks like a tall dwarf with his beard.

Toran approaches Ulrich's table.

"A human sitting by himself; A tabard with the sign of the sun; a finely wrought sword; and an ale. You must be Sir Ulrich? I had notice of your coming. Welcome. We leave early for the heights. If you're of a mind, that crew behind me are going to be your closest friends for the foreseeable future. You might wish to become acquainted. Or not. They are...well, you'll see."

A small grin creases Toran's face. "Before I take my leave, do you have any questions?"

In reply to the Curate Toran Lucius Crevellar, (msg # 73):

"Who are you?" he asks wiping his mouth of beer foam on a napkin, and begins walking to meet the party.

Toran closes his eyes for a moment. "Forgive me, I'm getting married in a week and am a bit distracted. I am Toran Lucius Crevellar, Curate to Ehlonna. Please call me Toran.

My betrothed is being sequestered during the seven-day as she goes through her rituals with her hand maidens, leading up to our marriage. Needless to say, I have been a bit distracted. No excuse, though. You deserved better."

Toran seems genuine in his chagrin. He is smaller than a typical elf, indicating that he's perhaps a grey or even a wood elf. He has intelligent, observant eyes. He wears a long sword on his baldric which indicates that he's more than just a cleric. There are scars on his hands to go along with calluses...this elf has been in a scrap or three.
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Heading over to the party's table with Ulrich, Toran makes introductions. Once made, he said, "I meant to tell you, that creature was a whale, small for its size, actually. I doubt you heard the captain of the ship I was on, but it was good that you refrained from antagonizing it - that horn is strong and could've damaged the hull of the ship if it was of mind to attack.

"A final thought before I bid you a good eve. A night of sleep might serve you better than drinking til dawn. Either way, we'll be up early."

With a nod, he heads up to his room.

"I am Ulrich Aelgrimm, Paladin of Pelor. I will be accompanying you, my church has sent me when help was requested. I will be retiring in a few minutes with the will of Pelor."


He looks to a buxom serving wench named Magda, "See you when you come up dear, don't worry, I'll be fine in the morning." He pinches her bottom eliciting red cheeks and a giggle.

The half-orc priest of St. Cuthbert stands. "I am Kullonar, of the Cudgel. And these are my companions. Bruno, it appears we have another man of faith on our journey."

In reply to Kullonar (msg # 77):

"Greetings Kullonar, Priest of St. Cuthbert, Peace be to you. Bruno, Greetings, from his speech I gather you are a man of faith as well. What god do you serve?"

Bruno was as relieved as everyone else when they made dry land again without any further problems. He found it difficult to sleep on the ship after fun and games with the narwahl and enjoys the travel by road to the inn.

Once at the inn his mood lightens considerably as they look forward to not only a hearty meal, but a bed that is alson on land. When the Curate brings the paladin they had been expecting to meet to the table. While Ulrich is a big human that looks like a dwarf, Bruno is a tall dwarf that might be mistaken for a short, albeit very strong, human, "I am a warrior priest of Moradin the Soul Forger, man of the Sun Father."

He glances at the serving wench who seemed to be fleeing the paladin despite her giggle, "I take it you live in this village? Or like your god do you bless all women with your, erm, shine?"

for whatever reason Zan seemed to take the encounter with the frisky sea creature in stride.  maybe it was that he was still brooding about recent events.


To Torin, "At this point, I'll, drink as I'll see fit.  If you haven't the nads for it I understand.   Careful with the whole marriage thing.  Best of luck with that."

If there be a wench or maiden of interest Zan will partake of showing her kindly pleasures of the evening.

Myrrick made a note to study the narwhal, sea creatures were new to him.

Once they reached the inn, Myrrick would not drink more than water, unless pressed to it by Zan. Myrrick makes introductions to Ulrich, "Myrrick, ranger and treasure finder. Good to meet you."

OOC I think I'm good on gear, unless we can grab some healing potions and warmer clothes. Basic gear for surviving nights in the cold.

As he settles in Uthecar signals for a tankard of something strong, a dark beer, and he happily sips it as introductions are made.  When it appears it is his turn to speak he raises his tankard to Ulrich.  "Did I hear Toran call you Sir Ulrich?  Is that a family honour, or was it bestowed for services rendered?  I am Uthecar Hornskin, the second of the name."

"No, I am from the capital, Krakenheim. I live in the temple there now. Perhaps I'll establish a church here and bring in a priest. He greets Myrrick and Zan.

"I am no knight, I'm a warrior of the church."

Bruno nods, "Well, we welcome you, Paladin."

In reply to Bruno Rhunthane (msg # 84):

"Thank you Bruno, I will be pleased to assist you." He then headed for the stairs, winking at Magda. He was no celibate and never intended to be. She fluttered and smiled.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:49, Wed 17 June 2020.

The party winds down, eventually. Most of you recognize what's at stake, and the importance of your mission, the parameters of which are still a bit nebulous. It seems Ulrich was brought in  to buttress an already strong group. Needless to say, hope swells with the new addition.

The next morning offers more food before the party sets out. Toran musters the party, offers a quick set instructions - the full missive is given to Bruno as the head of the group. It takes him a couple of minutes to read, then he rereads it to make sure he fully understands.

Bruno carefully reads Toran's letter. Then he reads it again.

To himself he says, If I didn't know better it's as if Ma had died and been reborn an elf.

With a grunt he nods and looks up from the note, "Thank you, Curate. I think our mission here has been clear from the start and your missive undergirds that.

"May your trip back to Ratik be easy and your nuptuals sweet.

"Otherwise, I think we are ready to set off!"

The party leaves Djekul with a plethora of retainers and functionaries following behind. It will be a long trek. One could make it in a day or two. It will take the party at least a week. The old adage: your as fast as your slowest member...and there are some slow monks and scribes in the group. Still, at least you feel somewhat safe - you heard no rumor of undead yet among the various locals you come into contact with. All of you kind of wish one would attack, just to the juices flowing again.

OOC: I'm going to do the same wandering monster check like we had with the narwhal. A natty 20 and something will occur.

The trip is uneventful. You're a bit surprised that nothing engaged you, especially as you drew closer to the Land of Song - surely that's a sign from Moradin that all will be well.

At last, you reach the Jarl's gate. It is closed. A somewhat haggard guard calls down to you, "State your business!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:54, Fri 19 June 2020.

"We have come from afar to see your Jarl!", replies Bruno.

Uthecar looks up at the guard nodding along to Bruno's words in agreement.

"You're the hunters, then," he shouted down. "I am Oinsson, Yngvar's Door Warden. Your arrival's a good omen in a land that hasn't had many in the past few months."

After descending a long flight of stairs, he paused and shouted at his men, "Open the gate!"

A moment later you hear the gate being unbarred and then Oinsson exits. As he looks at each of you, you note pale hair and striking green eyes. He wears a bastard sword over his shoulder and a chain byrnie for armor.

Everything seems to be going smoothly, then one of the functionaries, a cleric named Baramas, steps in and asks, "Sir, where are the accommodations for the lay folk in our party. We would fast and pray after a long trip." Another man, younger than Oinsson, takes Baramas in hand. "Come with me, we have rooms ready for you," he said, offering the priest a smile and nod. When that portion of the group departs, Oinsson said, "A good trip, I hope?"

The way he says it lends to doubt.

"Come, I'm to take you to Yngvar's private audience forthwith." Turning, he leads the way inside. The keep, as compared to other keeps you've seen looks like nothing so much as a large box. There's a moat, though the party doesn't immediately take note as it is frozen and hidden beneath a thick layer of snow. The gate looks sturdy, but unremarkable, which sums up the entire place. Still, the panorama is awesome; the Keep is surrounded by a stunning land filled with pristine beauty.

As Oinsson led the way, he said, "We've honey mead and ale, and a bit of spirits bought last year, before the merchants stopped coming."

After a short trek through the keep, you find yourself in a cozy room, big enough to fit the party and perhaps a few more. There are refreshments and food waiting.

At the head of the table sits an old man, wizend, but his eyes still sparkle a deep blue as he takes all of  you in. At last he said, "Welcome, friends. I see about me a fine group, with the dwarven, the elfin and even a human among you. From your gear, you have a number of different specialties, as well. Perhaps you'll have success where my folk failed. Please,  grab some food, drink, and tell me of your journey!"

Uthecar does just that, grabbing a pour of ale to wash the travel dust from his throat along with a plate of cold cuts to place between heart cuts of the local bread.  Once he is content with his fair he takes a seat a respectful distance from the Jarl offering a toast to his continued health before he begins to tell him of their journey from his point of view between mouthfuls.

"Slow travel, dulls the senses but we made it good, the road was safe.  I like the keep.  Functional.  Your gold has been spent to defend.  I see no non essential nonsense many young toffs want.".

Ulrich drinks warmed mead and eats away at a leg of lamb. Carefully avoiding soiling his garb.

A shine comes to the Jarl's eyes. "You think so, eh, Uthecar?" Without pause, he adds, "A good, strong name, young dwarf!"

He pauses and sighs.

'Tis a good keep, has protected us for many a year. Was nigh on forty years since the last raid of the Ice Barbarians. Decades past, they were a sore nuisance to us. When I came into my own, we set up a line of watch fires on the heights to be lit when raiders were sighted. It's worked out alright...at least until the recent troubles."

Bruno happily accepts their host's hospitality and takes in not only the state and nature of the construction and layout of his keep, but the state and nature of his court. Oinsson seems like a hardy man at arms, but he is looking not only at the ready-and-ableness of those here, but how 'on-point' they are.

"We have, of course, been told something of these troubles you have had recently, my lord, but if we are going to be truly helpful to you hearing of them from yourself would be most useful."

Kullonar enjoys the view of the land and all the snow and ice. He can breathe in this weather...ABOVE ground and on solid ground at that. He keeps quiet as they are escorted into the Jarl's room, brightening at the sight of food and drink.
He follows Uthecar and helps himself, sitting beside the Dwarven warrior and toasting the Jarl's health.

Myrrick listened carefully as the jarl spoke,  "I am Myrrick sir, an honor to meet you. And forgive me, but to keep things straight in my head... the recent troubles AND ice barbarians? I think, the recent troubles, would be why you sent for us."

"No, no, lad. The troubles with the Ice Clans was some forty years back. Today, as they say, is a new day, one filled with different terrors.

"But, tonight is one of celebration and introduction. Oinsson, guide our friends to their barracks that they may doff their armor and celebrate in comfort."

Oinsson nods and does just that. The barracks is comfortable. Each bed has a chest in front of it, with locks and keys. Frankly, all of you recognize it as such because you've all been in barracks before.

You get comfortable; some of you wear fine garments, others where utilitarian clothing for comfort. At Oinsson's return, you are brought to a wide assembly hall filled with many of his key officers and advisors. To your practiced eyes, many of the assembled seem too old or to young to be of much use beyond fodder. It is disconcerting.

Uthecar does not have much in the way of fancy clothing.  The tunic he wears is clean, if not a little crumpled from being in his backpack, and has a simple blue trim.  The coat he wears over it is also plain yet functional for both warmth and just passes as semi formal given the epaulets.  His gaze does not betray the concern he feels for the Jarl if this is the stock he has upon which to draw a defense of the keep.  "Lucky the walls are well built and the gate is sturdy," he whispers to Kullonar as they enter.

In reply to Uthecar Hornskin II (msg # 99):

Ulrich takes off the plate mail but re-dons his other attire, The white Tabard with the symbol of Pelor over a white shirt and yellow pants and boots. For his coat he wore his white polar bear pelt for warmth

Bruno also opts not to wear armor and inquires about having his breast plate looked after. It has been a long time since they have had the time to have it not only cleaned, but minor repairs made.

His tunic is charchol black with a red border and well made, but simple, and he wears the silvered helm, which is symbol of his priesthood. Once in the great hall he mingles with the locals trying to quietly assess the state of mind of those beneath the Jarl.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:20, Mon 22 June 2020.

Kullonar nods and grunts, "Indeed. It's a gift of the gods they've held out this long."

The Half-Orc priest wears a clean tunic of brown over a thick shirt, woolen breeches, and gloves, which he tucks into his belt once inside. His ever-present cudgel is tucked into his belt near his gloves. He absently rubs the brass bracers on his wrists as he observes everything.

The party gathers in a great hall, brought forth from their barracks by Oinsson. It is a huge chamber that could easily fit 100 guests. Tonight, you have about sixty, near as you can tell; most of the other guests study you with curious, and perhaps hopeful eyes.

Sitting atop a dais, upon his throne, Yngvar calls out, "Our guests have arrived. Let us welcome them with open arms. Eat, drink, be merry. Worry not about ill omens - time enough for that tomorrow."

Given their marching orders, the party sets to with a will. Nearly everyone follows suit, all except Oinsson who stares with a hawk's eyes at the goings on.

The food is good, elk steaks, cabbage, ale and honey mead, po-ta-toes...even some ice cream. It seems the Jarl has spared no expense. At last, the party starts to slow, men undo their baldrics, young ladies, their girdles. Enough spirits have flowed that eager eyes take stock of the party. Several young women openly show off a good portion of their wares, offering lascivious leers that suggest more than just a peek.

It is at this time that the Jarl stands. The room quiets as he said, "Embrace your youth, worry not for the morrow. It will come soon enough. Kord's blessing be upon you all."

So saying, he turns and, guided by a young lovely, makes his way behind the dais and disappears. A moment later, Oinsson approaches and says, "We will reconvene tomorrow morning after the sunrise in the private dining room. A good eve to you all."

OOC: I like to write. Sometimes I drag things out, but I'll accelerate things in my next few posts.

For those of you who did not read it before, please read the intro to Where Fallen Jarl's Sleep. Page 1 of this thread.

In meantime, enjoy the feast.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:19, Tue 23 June 2020.

Bruno enjoys the meal and continues to chat up the locals. When the Jarl escuses himself he watches him leave with the woman.

When Olinsson speaks he stands, "My thanks, warrior. Your lord has offered fine hospitality and it speaks loudly of his people."

He has questions he would like to ask, but decides to save them. Instead, he takes a breath and exscuses himself. The next few days are going to be...  challenging.

OOC: I've got no complaints about the story. Good narration is worth gold's weight in... gold.

Uthecar likewise watches the jarl leave, getting himself another beer when he is gone.  He knows to temper is appetite on this occasion, tomorrow was not going to be the time to carry a hangover.

OOC:  A rich tapestry has many condensed threads, and in the same way a rich story can require more words.  I have no problem with your add detail, I like it in fact.

A heavy snow falls upon the Land of Song this morning. Yngvar stands atop the tallest tower looking out. The young woman from the night before is there, silent, watching, her hand tucked into his elbow. As the party arrives, he offers a bleak nod, turns to the young woman, "What do the bones tell you, lass?"

You note she wear's a thin shift and is barefoot despite the cold. From a small haversack, she draws forth her set of bones. Flinging them like dice, she leans down near to the stone and studies what the bones tell her. In a high pitched, sing-song voice, she said, "Two paths to go by. One leads false, the other leads to death."

Then she looks up at the assembled. "Ware the cry of crows."

Her task done, she gathers the bones back into her sack and takes up her spot beside the Jarl once again.

As others have said, Seer, if the story is worth the telling...tell it! The flavor it gives makes the tale all the more savory.

Kullonar partakes of the feast, particularly enjoying the icy cream.
His eyes are not blind to the wiles of the females in the group, but he notes with resigned familiarity how none venture their eyes or their...other assets in his direction.
Still, it doesn't hurt for him to look.

The next morning, he says his prayers and gathers with his companions.
When the young seer rolls the bones, he watches intently, trying to somehow figure out the portents before her pronouncements.
As he rides out alongside the others, he can't help but echo, 'One leads false, the other leads to death.' "Guess this is gonna be a short trip."

Ulrich partook of the wiles of two of the women. He was not hung over, but he was tired a sore. He smiled at the tricks Agnes showed him, and Helga! Limber as the day is long! He should have felt guilty for taking two, but he didn't.

He was ready in the morning for the meeting and would leave with few doubts that of the three, at least one was with child now. He would be raised as a warrior in the church, or as a priest. There would be no want.

Yngvar's not quite done yet. Rushing up the stairs to the top of the keep is a young man wearing an abashed face.

"This is my nephew Gregors, your guide," Ithmar said. "Despite his lack of timeliness, he's a good man to have around. He will make the camps at night, take them down in the morning, and he's good with sword and spear as well. We've provided pack animals - donkeys and mules - with two weeks of provisions. You're experienced folk: That means once week into the fray, another to get back to safety. You've clerics among you, so maybe small miracles can extend your time, though fatigue will play a roll as well. As for Leika, I think I can guess somewhat of her scryings: There's a valley to the west where all our fallen Jarls and Heroes are laid to rest. That sounds like death to me. It is a four day journey - that would be the direction I would go in; Gregors knows the area, and can lead you there."

You note a sharp resemblance between Gregors and Leika: siblings?

Yngvar offers a final word: "There are six legitimate clans that make up the Frutzi. We are preeminent based upon seniority, but also the farthest away. They all know of your coming. I tell you this because each of the six enlisted their greatest warrior to learn what was causing this the blight. They gathered at my keep Four weeks ago. We haven't heard from them since. Not even Leika's bones can give us answers."

"Go now, and may the gods lend you strength on your journey."

In reply to The Seer (msg # 110):

Ulrich nodded "I am sent by the Pelorites in Krakenheim to aid in the investigation Jarl Yngvar. We will try to bring your nephew back with us one way or the other so that he may be with his family. I am Ulrich Aelgrimm, a high paladin of Pelor in these lands."

Seeing the girl toss the runes and hearing the Jarl's interpretation of them, Bruno sits back raises his cup, "Well, met, Gregors. Thank you, Leika, and your guidance seems wise to me, Jarl.

"We shall learn what we may and I hope return to you with the best news."

Kullonar gives Gregor a nod, glances at the mules, and decides he will walk.

He gives the Jarl a slight bow and turns away to join his companions.
"By the Cudgel, let's get going. Lead on, young Gregor!"

Ulrich mounts up and follows in line, holding his lance and pennant upright to be seen from some distance. His polar bear cloak drawn tight around him for warmth.

Uthecar stands silently, watching the young girl ply her talent, the arch of her back reminding him of the young lass of the night before.  That girl had run crying form his room, he hadn't cared, he had been sated and it was unlikely there would be repercussions, or a repeat once she spoke to the others and word got out.

He listened to the result of what the youngster saw.  The riddled answer meant little to him, they always seemed whack, vague or doubled meaning.  Not like the stroke of hard steel.  Let them deliberate what the answer might mean they wouldn't know until they were there and their predictions more a warning than to be relied upon.

Uthecar chose a stout pony, running his hands down its fetlock's and hooves and speaking into its ear so it knew the sound of his voice.  He noted the initial concern in its eyes, but it abated as he talked to it and it became more accustomed to the sound of his voice.

When the time came he followed along behind the holy warrior, and considered moving further away given the target he present holding the pennant high.  Perhaps they were safe for now, he would reconsider if he kept holding it up, and just hoped any who might think to shoot at him were true to their aim.

Myrrick gives Gregors a nod, giving the Jarl a half bow, "We will return with answers. Whatver they may be. Perhaps not the first trip out. But we will learn the truth of the matters plaguing your lands Jarl."

OOC: Please note one less day of rations - 6 instead of a full week. Anyone else want to ride a mule?
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The snow falls harder as the party starts their journey from the keep. It is uncomfortably cold, the snot freezing beneath you noses, your hands nearly frozen despite fur-lined gauntlets. It is a day the sane remain in the keep. None ever considered any of you sane, however.

Wearing snow shoes, Gregors jogs gamely near Ulrich and Uthecar, careful to track far enough from the warhorse so as not to get bit. He points out a few notable landmarks, one of which sounds familiar: "That mountain was the stage where a crazy mage and his right hand, a fighter of fierce renown made their final stand in the deciding battle against our folk. Milord Yngvar slew the great warrior in the final sortie. Thus did he win great renown."

There are also signs of flight and fear: Farmsteads torched with little left standing beyond a bleak chimney.

Gregors said, "That was Hekka Svensson's stead. Having not heard from him for a long while, we sent men out, but there was no one there...not even bodies to tell the tale. Sadly, we've seen such throughout the lands."

In reply to The Seer (msg # 117):

OOC - Rations use noted!

Ulrich rode forward, conscious of Gregor, he did his best to keep his horse from biting him. The horse didn't want anyone close by as he traveled. The cold was bitter, but tolerable in his warm furs.

"Anything usable by us? Or not? If he abandoned it, it is open. Perhaps some warm clothes for our retinue."

"No," Gregors said. "It's been abandoned for a couple months, now. The folks who inspected the place said anything not nailed down was gone."

The first five hours are quiet, outside of some local fauna, including a large male elk studying you from an overlook high above you (out of arrow range - please don't kill my elk).

The sixth hour, around mid-day, you come across a group of sturdy men wearing naught but kilts and waist kits strapped to their belts. They wear no armor, but carry good, standard long swords and daggers. You note several caressing their hilts, but a man separates from the group and approaches, both hands away from his sword. He speaks in a rough language that none of you understand - it seems Gregors does, however. He shouts at the man approaching; the man stops and speaks.

When he's done, Gregors turns to Uthecar and Ulrich and said, "They came for the riches, but found only blood. Now they seek to leave these lands and go back to coast where riches are more easily acquired. Will you let them pass, milords?"

In reply to The Seer (msg # 120):

"He doesn't speak the Cold Tongue? What does he speak Gregor?" Ulrich detects evil on the men as they near.

PM:

In reply to The Seer (msg # 122):

Ulrich nods his head and grunts, "Let them go in peace with the promise to do no harm to any others."

Bruno will accept a mule and encourages everyone else to do so as well. His gear has not changed much since he and Uthecar left their homes under the hill and the weather back home was not quite what it is here, so he will also endeavor to get a coat to wear over his armor in addition to his heavy cloak saying to others in the party, "This is the time to add whatever gear you need, so give careful consideration before we depart."

Once they are traveling he notes the fear draped countryside and when Gregors tells them that the Jarl killed Rogahn he comments, "Indeed? Before coming to these lands we were sent to investigate what remains of Zelligar and Rogahn's keep. It is interesting that our paths connect like this... I would have like to have heard the Jarl's tale of his battle with Rogahn."

When they meet the warriors he begins to reply to their guide when Ulrich speaks and once the Paladin is done nods, "Unless they know something useful about the area, we have no business with them."

OOC: I want to make certain that all of you understand that for each pack mule/donkey you use as mounts, you are taking one day of rations away from yourselves.

The Jarl was extraordinarily generous, but he's been nearly besieged the past couple months, and his supplies are dwindling as well.

And, yes, there are clerics who can create water, but I don't think any of you can create food yet-that is a 3rd level clerical spell. There are seven of you + Gregors, so eight...that has Donner Party written all over it if you insist on riding.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I need you guys to give me clarity on the mount situation, and I need you to give me a marching order. On a bright note, I forgot to mention that Leika has offered four potions of moderate healing (2d8 healing) for your benefit.

Once that's done, I can move things along.

This message was deleted by the player at 18:18, Wed 24 June 2020.

OOC: Sorry, everyone. Everyday I open this thread and I get distracted trying to catch up. I can't promise this won't continue for a while longer. I've just got so much use on my brain now that I tend to focus on brainless things during the interims.
As for mounts, Gildan is happy to walk if others do. And he'll take a position off of the front line somewhere where his bow will be most effective.

Gildan had been in a stupor from the rocking of the ship; a sort of defense mechanism against the strange nausea that overcame him. Then, when they were trekking through the cold, a few niggling thoughts of doubt about this path began to creep in but he remained outwardly stoic.
Eating his rations, he listens to the story of the stead and his doubts disappear. This is where the gods want him to be.

Myrrick prefers walking, and will do so. He agrees with letting the other group pass without incident, no need to fight when they didn't have to, not in such inhospitable lands. The story of the mountain rings oddly familiar to him as that of the fortress they just left not long ago... had this happened in more places he wondered?

"I'd suggest riding only if we are injured and unable to walk, if that matters at all. The animals have enough to carry I think."

OOC:  Sorry the Donner Party meant nothing to me until google helped out.  Can the mule not carry extra rations or does the Jarl not have enough to spare?  Uthecar can walk, it's his preference really.

Uthecar will grab a second fir coat, along with fir lined boots and ground oats.  A little of those go a long way and provide hearty sustenance.

Uthecar will look to the men, speaking to. Gregor before they pass.  "Ask them what they encountered lad, best we hear now what they saw ahead."

Kullonar walks along as best he can. It is really cold!
"Better than being far underground...in a cave...with bats and such," he murmurs to himself when he starts to think about the cold.

Upon seeing the barbarians, Kullonar watches them closely, standing proud.

I think we're good now...onward!
-----------------------------------------------------
The next six hours take you to darkness. Gregors suggests a cave he turned into a hidey hole not long past. Taking a look, it seems big enough even for party of this size, ponies, warhorse and all. It's a round space, but with enough circulation that smoke doesn't cause issues.

"If I might suggest, double watch to get us through the night?" he asks, his manner diffident. From the look in his eyes he's weighing carefully your answer.

In reply to The Seer (msg # 131):

Once they got to the cave, the first thing Ulrich does is take care of his horse and mule. The others could start a fire. Oats and water, he sets the barrel near the fire to thaw what is frozen, he then brushes and grooms his animals.

"A double watch is a good idea Gregors, that way someone should be awake."

Gregor nods then begins the process of setting up a safe encampment within the cave. Despite the wind wailing outside, the fire's warm...and once dinner's served, you all share a hearty meal.

OOC: you guys want the watch schedule to coincide with your marching order?

In reply to The Seer (msg # 133):

Does casters need 8 straight hours rest in this version of the rules?
This message was last updated by the player at 19:26, Thu 25 June 2020.

In reply to The Seer (msg # 133):

Bruno was glad for the cave and agreed with their guide regarding watches, ”It seems wise.”

Looking around the group, ”Our marching order seems like a good watch order from front to back.

“So, that put Uthecar and Ulric up first and then so on down the line until dawn.”

DM note: Each watch is 3 hours.

It's about 6pm when you all finish dinner. Ulrich and Uthecar take their watch and pay heed from opposite ends of the cave's opening. There's little to see beyond the snow fall, but 3 hours putter along when Bruno and Gildan take over. They watch from the same vantage used by the first watch; unfortunately, the temperature  drops even further, so even with a fire the cave is getting cold. Most of you are still awake, talking quietly for those trying to sleep.

Suddenly, midway through your watch, you feel the ground shake and bits of frozen dirt and ice fall from the ceiling. Everyone wakes up, startled.

Are you taking any actions?
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:50, Thu 25 June 2020.

"Dumathoin moves." Uthecar states as he grabs his axe ready, shooting a glance to the ceiling to make sure there is no danger of falling debris.  He silently looks to Bruno and Gildan as he moves to the animals.  Looking to see if they give hand signals to say something approaches the cave.

Though he has no special skill in it, he knows enough to lay his hand on his mules flank to settle its nerves as it skits about anxiously.

Dumathoin. Dwarven god.  Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain

Myrrick moves quietly to the front of the cave, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, hoping his elfin heritage will allow him to pick up whatever it is that can shake a mountain.

OOC infravision... if that's possible in this cold environment.

Bruno looks first at the ceiling of the cave to confirm that the earthquake isn't going to bring it down.

Then he looks down to ensure that it is not going to create tear in the ground to send them all into the depths.

Since everyone is already awake and he notes nothing aside from the quake itself out of order he does nothing more than move under the opening to the cave's arch and continues standing ready in the cold.

Holy **** - you guys are impressive, a well-oiled machine. I've never been prouder of a group of players! Well done! Way to keep it together.
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Everyone goes about their business in calm and orderly fashion without much hullabaloo. That is, except Gregors, who's very quiet and a bit green around the gills. Still, he's taking care of the pack horses, keeping them calm and checking on everyone's needs. Things return to normal quickly.
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The next watch is Zan and Kullonar, that's the mid-watch which doesn't bother Zan much, but leaves the half-orc priest a bit out of sorts. Their three hours pass by slowly and coldly. Winter gear is sufficient to protect them, but it doesn't leave any of you comfortable. At last you turn it over to Myrrick and Gregors. At last, you see a hint of the false dawn that grows into the actual dawn, and the rest of the party begins to stir.

Day Two: From 6 in the morning, til Noon, all is quiet as you keep on the track set by Gregors. Noon to 6pm sees the after effect of the avalanche; Gregors points out that the rockslides weren't there during his last sojourn into the mountains; he surmises the rockfall probably was due to the avalanche the prior eve.

6pm comes; Gregors leads you into a small vale surrounded by high mountains. The entry way into the vale is single file. The mountains hover, bent over like protective parents guarding their young. There is a large niche where the party can huddle and light a fire. The pack animals and the warhorse huddle together for warmth. Tonight, Bruno and Gildan have the first watch.

ooc: to be clear: horse + pack animals are in the vale, but are gathered just outside the niche. The warhorse seems inclined to stand at their center - smart animal.

ooc2: one other note, I assume that you're rotating the watches: In other words, you're not having the same folks on the same watches all the time (Kullonar's likely to get grouchy if has the midwatch everynight).
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:44, Fri 26 June 2020.

Kullonar and Zan take over for Bruno and Gildan from 9-12. Kullonar sniffs and snuffles; for all his complaint against delving the deeps, he finds the tundra cold and miserable. Zan, for his part, is quiet but somewhat alert. As always, he keeps his thoughts to himself. Every now and again, both look up at the sky, trying to gauge how much time is left before they can bed down. Outside, the pack animals suddenly get restive and the stallion wakes, alert.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:24, Fri 26 June 2020.

09:17, Today: Ulrich Aelgrimm rolled 6 using 1d6.  initiative. sleeping atm. until someone or something awakes me. If the stallion goes nuts, I'll awake!
This message was last edited by the player at 15:38, Fri 26 June 2020.

OOC:
11:22, Today: Bruno Rhunthane rolled 5 using 1d6+1.  Initiative.

12:30, Today: Kullonar rolled 4 using 1d6.  Initiative.

Kullonar breaks out in a clammy sweat.
"Somehow...some way...we are under attack!" he hisses to Zan.

Uthecar is slow off the mark

07:45, Today: Uthecar Hornskin II rolled 1 using 1d6.  Initiative .

Uthecar is quite happy to take the middle watch.  He has the eyesight and does not need to learn spells so is best designed for trough the witching hours. 

16:39, Today: Myrrick rolled 8 using 1d6+2.  init.


Myrrick wakes, alert as well.

OOC - Ulrich, in the future, will take middle watch too, spells don't come until 9th level, I don't need the continuous rest

Ulrich is disturbed by everyone rousing and whispering about, he sits up and rubs his eyes, "What is going on?" he whispers. He detects evil and looks around.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:47, Sat 27 June 2020.

PM

PM

As Kullonar hisses warning, Zan turns inward toward the shelter and screams: "Ware, Attack!"

FYI: I mentioned this in the OOC thread, but putting it here: Anyone in bed loses a round.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:59, Sun 28 June 2020.

In reply to The Seer (msg # 149):

Ulrich rises and draws his sword!

pm
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:08, Sun 28 June 2020.

In reply to The Seer (msg # 151):

"It appears I'm being challenged to combat! So be it!" he scrambles to his feet.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:42, Sun 28 June 2020.

From outside comes the sound of ancient battle cries, the wails of the wounded, the trials of the weak and strong. A charnel house smell attacks your senses and you realize that the battle has been joined for real.

Inititive:
Myrrick: 8 -
Ulrich and Gildan: 6
Zan and Bruno: 5
Kullonar and Gregors: 4
Uthecar: 1


Reminder: How I typically do combat is you roll initiative then your attacks and then your damage. Don't wait for me - I'll put the monster initiatives in order as they fit when I post round recaps. Guys, this is a good test. Good luck!
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:21, Sun 28 June 2020.

Bruno is finishing up his prayers when Zan calls out his warning. Gildan leaps to his feet and readies his bow...unsure of where to shoot. The fire burns fitfully now as flame wanes. All those at ready (Kullonar, Zan, Gildan, Bruno) don't have a target to shoot at. Behind them, Ulrich said, "There is evil in this place."

Then he draws his sword and begins to exit the shelter.

Bruno: 5 -- Bruno is casting a spell
This message was last edited by the player at 20:05, Sun 28 June 2020.

Myrrick leads the group out of the shelter, his halberd always ready, and slashes at the first thing attacking him or his friends, still not sure what exactly is going on.

11:38, Today: Myrrick rolled 12 using 1d10+3.  hurt.

11:37, Today: Myrrick rolled 15 using 1d20+4.  hit(assuming cold based creatures).

In reply to Myrrick (msg # 156):

Ulrich moves to the edge of the 'cave' to see the summoner. He uses his detect evil to fix the direction!

OOC:  I'm not sure where this places Uthecar, I only thought his '1' initiative roll indicated his reactions were comparatively marginally slower.  Is he too slow to be ready?

Uthecar Hornskin II rolled 22 to hit (AC-9) and 16 damage

ooc: if you were currently on watch, or the prior watch, take initiative normally. If you were sleeping or even just resting or even studying your spells, then you lose one round of action.

Surprise has already occured, now Bruno, Kullonar, Gildan and Zan have opportunies to take actions.

Once the bad guys get their turn, 2nd round will start and everyone will get a chance to take actions.

Round 1:

Inititive:
Myrrick: 8 -
Ulrich and Gildan: 6
Zan and Bruno: 5
Kullonar and Gregors: 4
Uthecar: 1


Gildan nocks an arrow but can't see anything to attack.
Bruno is considering a chant, but he better do it quick.
Kullonar just took damage from something.
Zan hunts for the hunters.

Ignore this Round 1

As of right now: no one has done anything and the clock is ticking 6,5,4...
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:52, Wed 01 July 2020.

"Show yourself coward! Come to me so that we may fight!"

Suddenly, from without, you see vague forms coalescing through the snow, barely visible, but there nonetheless. As they draw near, you note bits of various types of armor, some chain, some leather, even a once finely wrought breast plate that has lost it's luster. What's left of the occupants of said armor is little more than crusted, dried skin and bones. Whatever they are, there seem a lot of them.

Gildan draws first, well, not blood, per se, but he does score a hit out two tries.


In lieu of attacking inside the shelter, Zan fires two magic missiles from his wand: One of the skeletal figures dissipates into a cloudy mist and disappears.

Bruno, then Kullonar are next.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:03, Mon 29 June 2020.

Ulrich holds out his Holy symbol of Pelor and turns them! "Flee from the Shining Light of Pelor"


10:52, Today: Ulrich Aelgrimm rolled 12 using 1d20.  turn check.

10:38, Today: Ulrich Aelgrimm rolled 4 using 1d12.  turn check.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:32, Tue 30 June 2020.

Bruno casts Bless. +1 Attack to everyone within 5" x 5" of Bruno.

Everyone near Bruno feels the grace of Moradin's Blessing. +1 to hit & Saves.

Given Moradin's might blessing Uthecar's attack role changes to

Uthecar Hornskin II rolled 22+1 = 23 to hit (AC-10) and 16 damage. :o)

for when it is appropriate.

Update: where we stand:

Gildan fired off a couple arrows, one hit a skeletal figure, one flew into the darkness.
Zan fired off two magic missiles, one skeletal figure disintegrated into find dust.
Bruno cast bless 5' radius.
Waiting on Kullonar(no rush).

Kullonar shakes his head, trying to clear it from some evil mental assault.
Brandishing his holy symbol, he shouts, "By the Cudgel! Go back to the grave from whence you came!"

A divine wave of power rolls out from the Half-Orc priest as St. Cuthbert answers his faithful call!

10:27, Today: Kullonar rolled 20 using 1d20.  turn undead.
10:29, Today: Kullonar rolled 10 using 1d12.  # of undead affected.

Kullonar, faithful scion of Cuthbert, calls for divine assistance. The Cudgel hears and offers succor:

The wave of skeletons is cast back by St. Cuthbert's might and Kullonar's faith.

10 skeletons turned.

In reply to The Seer (msg # 169):

OOC that's 14 turned so far, this could get ugly! ;-)

Round one

Inititive:
Myrrick: 8 -
Ulrich and Gildan: 6
Zan and Bruno: 5
Kullonar and Gregors: 4
Uthecar: 1


Gildan fired off a couple arrows, one hit a skeletal figure, one flew into the darkness.
Zan fired off two magic missiles, one skeletal figure disintegrated into fine dust.
Bruno cast bless 50' radius.
Kullonar turned 10 skeletal figures.

As the skeleton's retreat, a second wave of slowly moving, shambling undead heads your way. Behind them is behemoth of a man, some 7' tall and stark naked with a Jack-o-lantern for a head. He carries a wicked looking glaive with treble hook attached. Thus far he seems to be waiting for something.

Round two - open season on undead!
Please be specific in your actions. Thanks & good luck!

Ulrich goes for Jack! "Die in the name of Pelor!"

12:10, Today: Ulrich Aelgrimm rolled 3 using 1d8+2.  damage.

12:10, Today: Ulrich Aelgrimm rolled 15 using 1d20+2.  to hit.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:28, Fri 03 July 2020.

It is now Bruno's time to turn undead and having cast his spell he presents the Hammer of Moradin in the direction of the second wave.

OOC: Mea culpa, if I've done this incorrectly, but here are my rolls:

12:46, Today: Bruno Rhunthane rolled 15 using 1d20.  Turn Undead.

Assuming that's a success...

12:48, Today: Bruno Rhunthane rolled 1 using 1d12.  Undead Turned.

Whelp! ;)

I did not roll vs the terrifying Pumpkin Headed Dude, because I don't know that he is undead and if he is I suspect I'm too low level to affect him.

Like an unchained animal Uthecar surges forward towards the pumpkin head snarling something in dwarven as he goes.  He falls onto the flanks of the Zombie's cutting the first one in his path down.

Uthecar Hornskin II rolled 22+1 = 23 to hit (AC-10) and 16 damage. :o)
This message was last edited by the player at 21:54, Tue 30 June 2020.

Myrrick, having never encountered an undead with a head like a pumpkin moves towards the group of skeletons still approaching, his halberd ready to work at cutting them down.


21:51, Today: Myrrick rolled 8 using 1d10+5.  dmg.

21:51, Today: Myrrick rolled 9 using 1d20+5.  dmg.(IGNORE I left as a d20)

21:51, Today: Myrrick rolled 21 using 1d20+6.  halberd, str, blessing to hit.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:09, Wed 01 July 2020.

Waiting for Gildan, Zan, Kullonar to declare actions - this just an fyi. I think we're back in order in the second round. I'll roll up monster actions when everyone checks in.

Seeing the wave of skeletons turn, Kullonar offers a prayer of thanks to St. Cuthbert.
And then, he sees the naked monstrosity urging them on and decides on another course of action.
Removing the ancient parchment from his case, he grasps his holy symbol and recites the words written thereon.
(Protection From Evil)

Round Two

Inititive:
Myrrick: 8 -
Ulrich and Gildan: 6
Zan and Bruno: 5
Kullonar and Gregors: 4
Uthecar: 1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Unable to get past the remaining zombies, seven all told, Myrrick lays waste to the deader before him, slashing him crosswise across the chest. Surprisingly, it doesn't fall, though it does have a nice open crater where it's chest used to be.

Ulrich calls forth the righteousness of Pelor and turns 4 of the zombies.

Gildan looses two arrows in the blink of an eye. Both score a hit, but, like Myrrick, the zombies plod along.

Bruno follows Ulrich's lead and tries to turn undead. Apparently Moradin's Priest terrorized one of the zombies into submission. (LOL!).

Zan flanks the slowly moving deaders, tries to backstab the one nearest him: Natty 20! Zan's blade digs deep into the zombie's back. The magicks that lended itself to the creation of this undead abomination is shattered in one fell blow and the corpse crumbles to the ground.

Kullonar quietly calls for divine aid.

Gregors rushes out bravely and strikes at one of the deaders, deals 5 pts damage to the nearest deader - it falls.

Uthecar froths at the mouth like a madman with purpose, swing his axe to terrible effect: with mighty blow, he completely eviscerates the zombie. The four deaders attack individually, with no rhyme or reason. They swing their fists per the command laid upon them by their animator. Only one strikes: Myrrick takes 2 points of damage from a zombie.

In the meantime, no more catcalls. The jack-o-lantern dude uses his turn to create a hole in the firmament that is black as pitch with a smell suggestive of a midden heap. Suddenly, what appears to be a bent over old man - holding a glaive - walks through with maniacal glee in its eyes. Looking at pumpkin head, he asks, "Where are all the women? Let's party!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Round 3

There are four remaining zombies still attacking heading into the third round.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:26, Fri 03 July 2020.

Setting up round three: Last round was exactly how it should be. You guys roll your dice, I'll put all in order. Good fight so far! More of that, please!

Inititive:
Myrrick: 8 -
Ulrich and Gildan: 6
Zan and Bruno: 5
Kullonar and Gregors: 4
Uthecar: 1

In reply to The Seer (msg # 179):

 Ulrich goes for Jack! "Die in the name of Pelor!"

12:10, Today: Ulrich Aelgrimm rolled 3 using 1d8+2.  damage.

12:10, Today: Ulrich Aelgrimm rolled 15 using 1d20+2.  to hit.]
This message was last edited by the player at 12:29, Sun 05 July 2020.

Bruno feels an overwhelming awe at Moradin's power that came through his holy symbol, but when the jack-o-lantern creature creates a hole out of which comes the strange old human with a glaive he finds himself snapped back into the present reality.

Accordingly, he moves towards the glaive weilding ancient, "You want a party? Let's dance!"

OOC: I'm unclear on whether or not the J-o-L dude or Mr. Natural are in relation to me, but I'd like to attack Mr. Natural. If that's not possible this round, because he's too far away, etc., this attack will be on something in range of my +1 short sword.

10:41, Today: Bruno Rhunthane rolled 11 using 1d6+7.

10:41, Today: Bruno Rhunthane rolled 20 using 1d20+5.  Short Sword Attack.

Myrrick, somewhat surprised the creature in front of him is still standing, spins and uses the momentum to swing at him again. The pumpkin head would have to be dealt with soon.


15:23, Today: Myrrick rolled 15 using 1d10+5.  hurt.

15:22, Today: Myrrick rolled 19 using 1d20+5.  hit.

Kullonar, Half-Orc Priest of St. Cuthbert

Upon seeing the arrival of the "old man" Kullonar knows he needs to focus on the creature with the pumpkin head. Unslinging his...erm...sling, he loads one of Selene's silver bullets, whips it around his head and lets fly.

18:17, Today: Kullonar rolled 11,6 using 1d20,1d6+1.  Sling to Pumpkin.

OOC:  Seer I think I've questioned this before, but I don't recall what reasoning I was given to hold the initial initiative throw as the initiative for the entire battle. 

Uthecar swings his axe around at the next creature that comes within range.

21:32, Today: Uthecar Hornskin II rolled 16,11 using 1d20+6,1d8+10.  to hit and damage

Gildan also focuses his attacks on pumpkinhead.

OOC:
08:08, Today: Gildan Stalker rolled 8 using 1d6+2.  Damage 2.
08:07, Today: Gildan Stalker rolled 7 using 1d6+2.  Damage 1.
08:07, Today: Gildan Stalker rolled 16 using 1d20+7.  Bow attack 2.
08:07, Today: Gildan Stalker rolled 13 using 1d20+7.  Bow attack 1.

The first thing you note is that there aren't many Zombies left - merely four. And that becomes three when Myrrick takes the head off one of the deaders.

With three left, gaps have opened and the slow moving deaders have have difficulty keeping up. Ulrich rushes to pumpkin head; despite his efforts, he misses as the pumpkin head jumps back from the Pal-a-deen.

At the same time that Ulrich rushes forth, Gildan looses two wonderfully aimed arrows at the giant jak-o-lantern. Unfortunately, a sudden gust blows both arrows awry.

Bruno finally gets the team on the board against the varsity: attacking the J-o-L, he strikes true and firm for 11 points of damage. One thing strikes everyone, the facade of the naked J-o-L disappears, replaced by a another fellow of similar resemblance to the one that was gated in. Two of them now size you up with eager anger in their eyes.

Zan fires off two more magic missiles from the back row and lands ten points of damage on the second fellow (Max damage on both missiles. Both are reeling, but still in the game. But...at the same time as Bruno and Zan cause the two bad guys some indigestion, they in turn bring their own form of heat: The artist formally known as JoL attacks Bruno, while the other attacks Ulrich.

Unfortunately, Ulrich feels the brunt of diabolical anger and takes 6 points of damage.

Bruno, the little tank that could, however, feels a hard ping reverberate through his armor, but remains unscathed.

Kullonar decides to use fancy dancy silver bullets. Somewhere a werewolf growls in London...Sadly, he is off the mark.

Back toward the shelter, Gregors gets a flanking attack on one of the slow moving deaders: The young man is proving himself a brave fighter: another deader goes down leaving just two left.

That leaves Uthecar: The brawny dwarf has been itching to get into the fray, and here is his chance, the chance of a lifetime, the chance to bring the hurt on bearded fellows carrying pole arms. Since he only gets one shot, he takes off like fireworks on the fourth of July and explodes into action against the artist formerly know as JoL (Jak o lantern in case anyone missed it). The first baddie takes 11 points of damage from Uthecar's blade.

Round four:

Inititive:
Myrrick: 8 -
Ulrich and Gildan: 6
Zan and Bruno: 5
Kullonar and Gregors: 4
Uthecar: 1


R U Ready to Rumble!!!!

In reply to The Seer (msg # 187):

Bruno finds himself amused by the annoyance that his comrades attacks were causing Mr. Natural and Mr. Natural formerly known as JoL, "You came here for play, but don't like the song my ladss play? Next time, maybe make sure your band stays long enough to finish a single stanza, maestros!"

Finishing his taunt he thrust his short sword one more time at the same target.

OOC:

23:29, Today: Bruno Rhunthane rolled 8 using 1d6+7.

23:28, Today: Bruno Rhunthane rolled 21 using 1d20+5.  Short Sword Attack.

The attack roll one better than the last, but damage just a one. While I don't like it I appreciate the balance inherent in it.

Uthecar continues his attack not letting up.

21:19, Today: Uthecar Hornskin II rolled 26+1 to hit and 12 damage and, 25+1 to hit and 16 damage.

I love the bless spell Bruno.  Always good to have the extra 5% across the whole party.

In reply to Uthecar Hornskin II (msg # 189):

"Here comes the Pal a din Jack!"

07:39, Today: Ulrich Aelgrimm rolled 5 using 1d20+3.  to hit.

07:38, Today: Ulrich Aelgrimm rolled 5 using 1d8+3.  damage.

07:38, Today: Ulrich Aelgrimm rolled 20 using 1d20+3.  to hit.

Deciding the join the fray, Kullonar hefts his morningstar and wades in. Whether it be a zombie or one of the twins, he attacks...and misses pitifully.

10:40, Today: Kullonar rolled 4,9 using 1d20+1,2d4+1.  Morningstar attack.

Myrrick, seeing his friends press the attack, rushes alongside them. Attacking the first of the two "men" he comes to.



22:12, Today: Myrrick rolled 11 using 1d10+5.  hurt.

22:12, Today: Myrrick rolled 21 using 1d20+5.  hit.

Seeing that the group was now gaining the advantage, Zan decided that it was best to hold up on casting anything additionally a this point.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Tue 07 July 2020.

Even as the two 'old men' try to gate in more of their fellows, the wrath of holy power against the forces of evil are too much for them bear. Under a hail of blows, the two are vanquished, pulled from this realm and thrown back into the unholy realm from whence they came. With their banishment, the skeletons and zombies meander in no particular order, and are easy pickings.

Nicely done. Had you guys a bit worried for a minute. Fun combat and a good start for you guys. We'll see how things go from here.

I will tally up some XP for you shortly. It will be posted in the rewards thread.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:42, Tue 07 July 2020.

Day 3 is done. Day four begins without incident. The land here grows upward, majestic peaks soaring high overhead while a fine mist shrouds the valley. It is a glorious sight.

Gregors takes the lead. His eyes are wide, alert for trouble, but he finds none. By midday, he locates the secret cave that has served him in the past. The opening is narrow, each beast of burden has to be led single file into the cave by the reins. Ulrich's great beast is balky, not liking being confined. Once in, though, you find a wide space that offers a defensible position and plenty of room for the entire party.

Once everyone is settled, Gregors speaks.

"We sit a bit more than a mile from the Valley of the Jarls. That big peak you took note of is called Three Horn Mountain. Beneath it is a deep ravine carved by a mountain stream down the face of the peak.

"Guarding the valley are totems that that represent each of the clans: Bear, Wolf, Boar, Cave Lion and Sabre-tooth Tiger. At first glance, you may not see them...they are overgrown with weeds and scrub-brush.

"The floor of the valley is thick with weeds and short, thorny trees. Two long mounds face each other on opposite sides of the stream. Each is bare, pocked with depressions and caverns, the depredation of time and flora taking hold. Faint runes can be made out, if you look hard enough.

"Aside from the gurgling of the stream, you will hear no other sounds. This used to be a holy place, peaceful. The gods only know what has become of it since our last folk came to visit. That was months ago.

"My job is to care for your mounts and do other tasks that need doing while you all explore. The gods grace you with their blessings. I would suggest making it a priority to get back before night falls. If you're gone more than 24 hours, I'll cast my prayers to the gods that they receive you...and make my way home."

It is just shy of midday. The sun shines above you without care for the drama that you will embark on. One final token, a hand written map of the surrounds - you note that it's marked with icons instead of words, but it's something.

"A final word: We are a proud people, we love our history and traditions. We seek to restore what's been lost, and need your help to do it. But the clans would consider it great insult if you defile the tombs and make this a search for loot. If you are successful, you will be well compensated."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:36, Tue 07 July 2020.

OOC: We Healers ought to be able to cure all of the wounds taken in the hours between the end of the JoL battle and morning of Day 4, no?

In reply to Gregor's warning Bruno nods solemenly, "Your words are well taken, my friend.

None of the gods my comrades and I worship would abide by destruction of your people's history or traditions. Nor would the Arch-Baron who sent us to aid your Jarl. I hope to see you again before nightfall!"

Uthecar nods agreement.  "If they lie in slumber we will tread careful to cause them no dishonour.  If they awake......" Uthecar trails off, not sure what to say to continue the sentence just shrugging as he says "We'll figure it out."

Kullonar listens and remains quiet, just glad to be outside for as long as possible.
And looking forward to a bit of exploration.

Myrrick nodded, "We will take nothing from the dead that isn't needed, armor if damaged or the like. I would not dishonor your traditions."

Gregors frowns at Myrrick's words. You get the sense that's not good enough, but he doesn't reply.

"No Myrrick, we take NOTHING from the dead. We will not desecrate the graves Gregor, not even if we need it."

"Fellows!, I believe there's been a misunderstanding here and squabbling amongst ourselves serves no purpose."

He takes a deep breath, "Come, we all agree that we are not here to pillage these graves and shall not do so, now, comrades, let's get moving."

Ulrich leads the way, for now, to the valley, detecting evil as he goes.

OOC: Just as a reference here's our marching order, Seer!

Uthecar -- Ulrich
Bruno -- Gilden
Zan -- Kullonar
Gregors --  Myrrick

Gregors is staying back - he'll be taking care of the animals while you explore, and cleaning weapons and armor and other such tasks when you return.