Slowly eating his food, he glances enviously over at Syndelia's plate. After a bit, Paran looks at the newcomer to the table. He is noticeably different from Syndelia, though Paran is unsure if they are from the same tribe or not. Though he suspects the latter due to Ehrendil's lack of tattoos. Deciding to ask, he says, "Hello Ehrendril. So you are a stargazer, that is good to profession. A lot can be learned from the stars. In fact, the animist of my tribe reads the stars among other things. She gets glimpses of the future to help guide the tribe. Also, I can't help but notice that you are both elves, am I right in thinking that you two are from different tribes? i am sorry but I haven't seen too many elves apart from Syndelia so I am a little ignorant."

He takes his ale and begins to drink it, looking between the two people.

Korag approaches the table with so many strangers and odd travelers.  He is tall for a half-orc, who are already slightly larger than the average man, with forearms that would rival Paran's.  Scars line his arms and neck where visible, and a calm surety in his walk and stance suggest that he has not always been a bartender.  He cocks his head as he looks Paran up and down, sizing up the firbolg.

"Well, well, well.  We not get much yer kind round here.  And ye not look much like town's 'bolg, Freda.  Where you from, 'bolg?"  His speech is choppy, though a lifetime with tusks will do that to a tongue.  He waits for an answer, ignoring the fact that you were all in conversation previously.

A little surprised by the mans sudden appearance, Paran stops drinking mid sip and carefully sets down his ale. He awkwardly looks to the people on either side of him before taking a moment to appraise the man before him. Paran is impressed, He didn't think that the other races could match the size and physique of the firbolg.

"Hello, my name is Paran. I am surprised that you know of the firbolg, we are a pretty isolated race." He pauses as he registers the mans words regarding another firbolg. "Did you say that there is another firbolg here? That is very odd. I would like to talk with Freda, if I could. And to answer your last question, I come from the far north. So, are you the other here? I like this place quite a bit, though the door is a little thin."

Famished after a diet of lean, stringy hares on the way back from Steamwind, the Dusk Elf digs greedily into the roast. It's much better fare than she would normally be able to afford at an inn, she knows that full well. Korag knows that, despite her strange or outright scandalous appearance, Syndelia is basically good for business.

And talking of that...

She waits until the innkeep has answered Paran's questions, to enquire:

"Anything interesting going on in town, Korag? Have you heard of anyone seeking passage to somewhere? And... anything I should know about the comings and goings of a certain dwarf bitch?" she adds in a lower voice.

"Aye, 'nother 'bolg.  He ain't in town now, off on a hunt.  Not say much, but I hear he's from Crown Empire, far east.  You two get along right as rain when he back.  And no, not owner.  Just watch the place.  Owner is a bit shy, only in it for money and tradition.  Dates back to her parent's parents."

Turning to Syndelia, he gives a frown.  "Town's quiet.  Game's not good, and something got town guard spooked.  Ain't heard no-one looking for passage, but plenty odd folks tonight.  Yer free to see if they need you for hire, but you know the rules.  Keep that damned rivalry out my tavern."

"Rivalry, what rivalry," Syndelia smiles brightly, letting her Elven tones rise and fall in the proverbial musical fashion, instead of her usual gruffness. "We are all people of good cheer here."

She takes another bite of the venison. It's the best stuff she's had in ages, and she's feeling more relax. Perhaps the ale helps too. At some point she needs another client, she's down to her last few coppers. But not right now. It's the rare night she can enjoy the drink, the fire, and perhaps even the company, ignoring her instincts that despise small, crowded places at ground level. Just relax.

With his tankard in hand Trog was warm and feed, two of the better states of being that a troll could be in. There were certainly many odd humans in the tavern tonight and a small giant....

It was good to be inside he though as he put another log onto the fire.



-

While it would seem obvious that the threat of the Raven-King would unite all species, Jerec had found it had instead made them more suspicious and more determined to remain apart, cloistered within own communities. It was then strange to see such a disparate group gathered over at the other table in Clayshire this day.

Taking a few bites of his meal and washing it down with his drink, Jerec decided he had waited long enough to learn why... and he would not get answers from where he was sitting. Motioning for Barakus to remain seated, Jerec grasped his staff and slowly walked over to the table where the others, sans the troll, were seated.

"Well met, one and all, I am known as Jerec, a wanderer of no ill repute," he said stoically, staring into each and everyone's eyes as he did so. "I have made the occasional visit to Clayshire over the years and it rare to meet a group gathered with such different backgrounds here, or anywhere for that matter."

When his eyes found Syndelia he went on with a small smile, "I have already made an acquaintance with Syndelia some years ago, but the rest of you are unknown to me, why don't we change that?"

Given the strange nature of the group forming at one table in the tavern, many of the patrons seem to be watching, keeping an eye on the collection of elves, men, and even one firbolg.  To the outside observer, this would be a strange sight.  But to those with more worldly experience, it was nothing too unusual.

The sound of some commotion from outside floats through the closed door.  That in itself is not strange.  Instead, it is the silence that follows it that is.  In a town that is often bustling, silence is an oddity.  It would seem that the hooded man in the corner notices this, and sits up straight, looking around.  A faint, flickering glow can be seen emanating from within the hood.

---

OOC: Any characters paying attention to the noise can make a Perception check, with a -20 due to the commotion being outside.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:36, Sun 15 Aug 2021.

Syndelia rolls her eyes, lowering the ale mug.

"I can vouch for this old man being reputable," she tells her tablemates, sighing, "but also the worst, most sanctimonious bore in the land. What bad wind brings you to Clayshire, old man? Don't say you came to preach the good fight to us, I have nowhere else to drink..."

She stops mid-sentence, her Elven ears perking up...

---

17:29, Today: Syndelia the Unseen rolled 122 using 1d100+45 with rolls of 77.  Perception roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:32, Sun 15 Aug 2021.

"Thanks for letting me know, Korag. I hope he come back soon. I didn't think that there were any firbolg tribes in the east. Though I suppose that we probably have just lost touch with them. Well regardless, thanks for the food."

Paran sips his ale as he notices a man walking to the table. He sets down his ale when the man starts to speak. It seems that Jerek and Syndelia know each other. A little curious he lets them speak. He is startled when Syndelia stop speaking suddenly and becomes alert. He starts to look around, though this is rather pointless as he is still ignorant of the city.

"Syndelia, what's going on? Did you hear something?"

Not sure what is going on, Paran downs the rest of his ale and grabs his spear. His tries to follow Syndelia's eyeline to see if he can figure out what startled her.

It was odd that things could stop so suddenly and that was the first thing that Trog picked up on, everyone had stopped in the tavern. Then they looked to be collecting weapons and leaving. He looked over to Korag as a means to decipher what was going on.


-

Korag seems to notice the silence as well, and moves to behind the bar.  He keeps an eye on the door.  It would appear that most of the other patrons haven't noticed anything more unusual than your group.  The hooded man in the corner cautiously takes his ale and downs it before gesturing to Korag for yet another.  His posture suggests one on edge, though any travelers have felt that from the sound of breaking twigs in the forest.  It could be nothing.

Syndelia raises a hand in the air, indication caution.

"Metal on metal," she whispers almost inaudibly at Paran; the next second she's up, arrow nocked on her bowstring, and by the door. Carefully she leans a shoulder on the door, cracking it ajar ever so slightly to take a peek outside, ready to draw and shoot...

That sickly sweet smell of the clay sneaks in through the cracked door.  At this point, the other patrons are watching Syndelia, unsure of what is going on.  She is fairly well known in town for being sharp in eye and ear, so it is troubling that she seems concerned about something they have not noticed.  Korag seems too focused on the situation to bring any more ale to the hooded man in the corner.

Keeping the door only ajar, Syndelia draws the bow, taking aim at something outside the building.

"Get your weapons, Paran," she whispers towards the room, closing one eye to get a bead on her target. "Five incoming, four of them Undead."

Paran freezes when he hears Syndelia mention undead. His grip on his spear tightens and his skin pales a bit. Nodding, he follows Syndelia to the door. He does some rhythmic breathing to prepare himself for what is to come.

'I am ready, let me know when to go,' He whispers as he tries to peak through the door to get a better view.

Trog lifted himself off the floor and gave a little shake before he grasped his hammer which was leaning against the wall. "Elf woman was being silly and others had got the bug, Trog go ask whats matter...." he thought to himself as he crossed the room in a couple of strides.

"What problem... sit down or leave."


-

Syndelia's one open eye was fixed on her mark, so she felt more than she saw the Troll approaching, a subtle vibration through the soles of her boots as the great creature got to her feet.

"Shhh. Stay put, Troll," she whispered, not looking at him, correcting minutely the position of the arrow. "Enemies approaching. Keep quiet, just a second more..."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:11, Wed 18 Aug 2021.

---

OOC: Syndelia, go ahead and make your attack.  You get the full bonus.

"Night Lady, guide this shaft..." she says under her breath.

A second later, she releases the string, letting the arrow fly and find its target...

---

Syndelia the Unseen rolled 143 using 1d100+120 with rolls of 23.  Aimed Ranged attack (+40).

Today: Syndelia the Unseen rolled 45 using 1d100 ((45)).
This message was last edited by the player at 15:17, Wed 18 Aug 2021.

Syndelia has but a moment to jump away from the door before it crashes open.  The combination of a cold wind and the smell of clay sweeps in through the door, but also several creatures.  Something looking like a pale dwarf forces its way into the room, its shoulder positioned forward to provide the strength needed to break through the door.  It wields a mattock in one hand, and the light from the hearth show that it is heavily rusted and stained with blood.  It wears dark chainmail armor, though if it is painted or made from a dark metal is not clear.  Following it, acting almost blindly, four skeletons march into the room.  One holds a shortspear, one an longsword, one a battleaxe, and one a heavy mace.  All of the weapons are in quite poor condition, and the creatures wear no armor.

Some of you who paid attention to the tales from your elders seem to recall stories about both this "dwarf" and these skeletal creatures.

The "dwarf" looks around the tavern before locking eyes on the hooded man in the corner.  It snarls, and you can all hear a quiet "fuck" come from the man.  Korag, standing behind his bar, kneels down and braces a heavy crossbow on the bartop.

Enter Combat
Round One Begins!

---

Action Declarations
"Dwarf": Moves to zone one, no other actions.
Skeletons: Move to zone one, no other actions.
Korag: Ranged Attack on one of the skeletons.
Hooded Man: ???

The tavern will be broken up into three zones.

• Zone One is the area where the door and a few windows exist, with minimal tables.  Currently Syndelia, Paran, and Trog are in this zone.
• Zone Two is the area where most of the tables exist, and will count as difficult terrain but allow for cool stunts such as finding high ground or using tables as cover.  Currently Jerec, Barakus, and Ehrendril are in this zone.
• Zone Three is where the bar is as well as the door to the inn rooms, with minimal tables.  Currently Korag and the hooded man are in this zone.

OOC: Combat in 'Against the Darkmaster' is both simplified and made much more complex than games such as D&D.  There are multiple phases, but you make your declarations at the beginning of the round.  For this first round, we will be passing the Assessment Phase, and moving straight to the Declaration Phase.  Enemies make their declarations first, and then the players respond.  To keep things from dragging along, we will allow for some chaos in combat.  If you declare that you stab at Creature X but it dies before you have the chance, your action is nullified.  I may take some small liberties such as altering your target in such circumstances, to say that "as Creature X dies, Creature Y standing next to it becomes your target".

With that said, let's slay some monsters!
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:55, Wed 18 Aug 2021.

Paran stands in front of the creatures brandishing his short spear. Though he is shaken by something, he is none the less steadfast. He stares at the dwarf-like creature, he vaguely recalls some stories about these creatures.

Standing in front of the creature, Paran clears his throat and, in a deep voice, says, "You will leave now. You have destroyed the sanctity of this place with your undead filth. Leave now or suffer my wrath!" He feels confident in his attempt at intimidating the creature into leaving.

His spear readied, he awaits what the creature will do.

---

Paran rolled 78 using 1d100+20 with rolls of 58.  Songs and Tales to identify dwarf creature.

Paran rolled 127 using 1d100+40 with rolls of 87.  Charisma roll to convince dwarf to leave.

The still unknown "dwarf" creature takes its white eyes off the hooded man for a moment, and only a moment, to regard Paran.  It, armored and accompanied, looks at the firbolg with a crudely made spear, and chuckles in a dark, cold laugh.  "Your wrath?  You face the wrath of the Raven King.  It is you who should stand down.  If you stand back, we will leave you be.  After all, it is not you we are here for."

---

OOC: Don't be discouraged from attempting negotiations!  Some enemies are harder to convince than others.  And sometimes the GM won't budge from a scripted fight.

Trog's attention is instantly turned when the door starts to make sounds.... and then gives way. He moves his left hand to grasp the haft of his weapon to join his right and brings its stone head up around his ear.

For and instant his muscles tense as he begins the arc of his swing towards the "dwarf" with as much speed as he can muster.


Trog rolled 119 using 1d100+100 with rolls of 19.  Attack.
Trog rolled 17 using 1d100 with rolls of 17.  Critical Strike.


-
This message was last edited by the player at 06:00, Thu 19 Aug 2021.