Jerec watched half of the 'dwarf' creature hit the wall behind Korag with a wet smack in dismay. Though he was glad it had been destroyed, he was also dismayed it had been killed before they managed to get some answers from it; the undead certainly were not going to talk.

Well at least they still had the crowned warrior to...before Jerec could form another thought he noted the man trying to run out the door of the tavern, while the skeleton with the spear was about to try and stab Barakus.

"Don't let him get away!" Jerec yelled out to the others, before twirling his gleaming blade and charging at the skeleton's flank, trying to keep it between him and Barakus, putting the momentum of his charge into a deadly thrust aimed at the creatures rotting ribcage!

---

Full Action: Charge at Skeleton w. spear. Trying to also flank it.

Attack Roll (edged): 154 (includes +20 from Charge) If Flanking is applicable another +15 would be added.

Critical: 16

Trog looked towards the red splatter on the wall next to Korag and then down to the head of his hammer. Then back to Korag, who he gave a little wave to. The man in the shiny hat was already half way across the tap room before Trog even noticed he was missing so he did nothing to heed or hinder the man's progress.

The skeleton that was still standing was something else though and Trog moved to bring him down if the other patrons in the tavern did not do it first.

Trog rolled 197 using 1d100+110 with rolls of 87.  Attack.
Trog rolled 49 using 1d100 with rolls of 49.  Critical Strike.

Probably wont need it, as there are faster PC's.



-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:10, Wed 25 Aug 2021.

Seeing the skeleton collapse, Paran sighs with relief. He seems to stand up taller and he visibly relaxes. He hears Jerec's call to stop the man and , seeing Syndelia going after him, chases after him as well.

While running, he begins to shout, "Halt sir! We have killed the..." He pauses when he sees that Syndelia has tackled him. He continues forward, quickly reaching the two. The man's attempt at escape reminded Paran of the young firbolg warriors when they encounter their first monster. The leaders had to calm them down before they got themselves hurt or attracted any unwanted attention. Attempting to imitate the leaders of his clan, he tries to calm the man. In a quieter voice, he says, "Please calm down. Those creatures are dead. We don't want to hurt you, we just want to know what is going on. Surely you have time to tell us. I think we have earned at least that much."

---

Paran rolled 133 using 1d100+40 with rolls of 93.  Charisma (calm down man and get him to talk).

The final skeleton falls as both Jerec and Barakus work seamlessly to slay it.  Trog arrives moments later, feeling perhaps disappointment that it was already dealt with.  The tavern was quiet...  or it would be if the crowned man, regal in stature, wasn't babbling like a scared child.

Combat Ends

"You don't understand, you have to let me go now!  They've found me, they've found me, they've found me...  If He gets His hands on me, it's all over!  I've failed!  I have to go now, have to flee, have to flee..."  His eyes look pleadingly between Syndelia and Paran, and the man struggles against his physical restraint.  Moments pass as his rambling slows, until he finally takes a deep breath.

"You claim to deserve a story.  Well, you haven't earned jack, but I'll give you one.  I've been on the run for years now.  Always having to watch over my back, sleeping with one eye open.  This time I thought I'd lost them, but...  If I fall into the hands of the Raven King, it's all over, and He'll have won.  I cannot allow that to happen.  These ones may be dead, but there's always more, always more, _{always more...}"

With this, he gives one last mighty shove to free himself, and makes another attempt for the door.  Whether or not he succeeds, it is clear this man is scared and run ragged.

---

OOC: In the future, we'll use the Grappling attack (see Weapons) for such an action.  I hadn't noticed it there before.

In the meantime...
06:43, Today: Narrator, for the NPC Crowned Warrior, rolled 132 using 1d100+45 with rolls of 87.  Escape.

Syndelia frowned, distracted for a second.

"The Raven King is after you? Why would be want anything to do wi-I SAID, EASY! Stay put or I'll..."

The man almost overpowered her in his frantic struggle, but she quickly regained control of him. Angered at his attempt, she produced a curved blade from the sheath at her back, putting it to the man's neck.

"Try that again and you won't have to fear the Raven King any more, human. We just saved your pitiful hide, so you tell us what you know, or it ends here and now," she hissed furiosly.

---

Today: Syndelia the Unseen rolled 113 using 1d100+30 with rolls of 83.  Brawl (keeping Crowndude grappled).

Against his 132-30 = 102
This message was last edited by the player at 15:13, Wed 25 Aug 2021.

The man struggles until the knife is placed at his throat.  At this point he stills, but does not seem to calm.  He looks up at Syndelia with mad eyes, and hisses.  "The crown!  He searches for the crown!  And soon He'll have it, if you keep me here!  His legions are everywhere.  Like ants.  And they've found me.  There will be more, there will be more, there will be more..."

Closer inspection of the crown reveals it to be a finely crafted crown of gold, a single piece without jewelry, but ornate in its design.  From the studded band, several steeples rise upwards.  The crown itself seems to have been hammered into shape, and has clearly seen many fights as it is dented in countless areas.  While not made of flame, it seems to glow with the flickering light of a torch, though it could be your eyes playing tricks on you.

As he expected the last skeleton fell to the other people in the tavern and the man trying to escape was taken down. So Trog began to right the chairs and tables he had up ended on his way to the dwarf. He then started to rifle through the dwarfs belongs to see if there was anything that may explain why he came to the tavern

Trog starts on the bottom half left near his feat and then moves to the top half behind the bar.



-
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 20:43, Thu 26 Aug 2021.

As Trog examines the bisected body of the "dwarf," it doesn't take long for him to realize that it hadn't been carrying anything of worth.  Its chainmail, sized for something clearly smaller than the troll, was damaged in many areas not including the slice through the middle.  Its mattock was old and rusted, but functional.  Other than a few coins that seemed hastily shoved in a small purse (likely stolen), it possesses only a small leaden ring.  There are no runes on the ring, only scratches that look as though it had seen the fury of bird talons.

Meanwhile, Korag begins uprighting tables and chairs alongside Trog, doing his best to clean the place up after the conflict.  His crossbow lays atop the bar behind which he normally stands, pointed at the door and ready for a moment's notice.  Many of the patrons who had scattered poke their heads out from the door leading to the dorms and rooms, not quite ready to emerge.  Ehrendril stands above Syndelia and the crowned warrior, a calculating look in his eyes.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:38, Thu 26 Aug 2021.

Jerec sheathed his blade and slowly walke over to where Syndelia had the crowned man pinned. He kept his distance, staff at the ready for any sudden moves to escape, and peered at the man and his strange crown. It was finely crafted, of elven make perhaps, a single piece without any jewelry and yet ornate in its design.

"Calm down good sir, we will not harm you," he said smoothly, trying to give a reassuring smile. "I am sure my companion here will release you if you calm down and explain some things to us; we only wish to help against a common foe."

Jerec turned his neck towards the innkeeper and rapping his staff on the wooden floor said, "Korag! Some drinks for this gentleman to calm his nerves."

Korag nods at Jerec and gives a grunt of acknowledgement.  He returns to behind the bar and begins pouring several tankards of ale.  His stance throughout all this suggests that he is not yet calm himself.  Meanwhile, the crowned warrior looks up at Jerec with a scowl on his face.  For one as mighty as he first appeared, he seems almost sallow and sunken now.

"Meaningless words with a blade to my throat.  Who are you, the lot of you?  Are you working for Him?  Come to collect your bounty, take home a nice reward?  Well, He'll never let you live.  He won't let any of us live.  Tis the time of darkness and death."  He speaks as though a madman, but has ceased his struggling.

---

OOC: Any who wish to know more about the crown may make a Songs & Tales test (Hard)

Trog pocketed the small finds and would show them to the other people when he got a chance, they would know more then him. He then finished righting the furniture and went and got the broom to clear up the skeletons and deposit what was left outside.

Finally he collected up the weapons and not really knowing what to do with them he placed them by the fire. He looked at the dwarfs weapon, giving it a rub to see if there was anything under the rust, grime and blood. As he does so he comes over to were the "king man" is being held and listens into the conversation.


-

Syndelia laughed mirthlessly, flicking the man's nose with an index finger.

"Oooh, poor man-baby, there's a blade at his throat, boo-fucking-hoo. In case you missed it while you were busy shitting your pants, it was us who saved your sorry ass from the undead minions of the Raven King. And yes, my blade is at your throat - not through it. As it would if we served the accursed Raven King. So spare me your bawling, human. You owe us your pifitul life."

A second later, Syndelia was standing up and the blade was back in its sheath.

"All yours, old man," she said, grimacing towards Jerec. "I didn't hurt your precious man-baby. He tries to pull a runner again, I'll put a shaft through his chest."

She leaned against the wall, arms crossed and a dark look in her eyes. She had no idea what anything was about, except that that golden bauble looked pricey...

---

Today: Syndelia the Unseen rolled 62 using 1d100+15 with rolls of 47.  Songs & Tales test (Hard).
This message was last edited by the player at 21:02, Thu 26 Aug 2021.

Paran, having been keeping an eye on the man and an ear on the conversation shakes his head at Syndelia's last comment.

"You would do well to listen to her, I don't think she would hesitate, though please know that we don't want to hurt you. As you said, these are dangerous times and everyone is being careful... Perhaps too careful." He says as he shoots Syndelia a disapproving look.

leaning in a bit to get a closer look at the man, he says, "Pardon me if this is rude, but are you a king? I am not from around here, but I have heard tales of kings and leaders who adorned themselves with crowns and riches. Is that why the Raven king is after you?"

The man looks between the three (it would seem he is paying Trog no mind) in turn, before sitting upright and taking several deep breaths.  "First of all, I owe you nothing.  I would have slain these dogs like I have so many others, and fled far away.  You merely interfered and expect me to grovel at your feet."  He spits on the ground at the notion.  "I am...  I am...  If I had a name, the dreams have taken it.  But I can give you my titles.  I am the Champion of the Light, Bearer of the Crown, and servant, or slave, of the Bright King.  It is His crown I bear.  And it is for His crown that the servants of the Raven King hunt.  And now, thanks to you, they know where to find me.  And I am still here...  still here... still here..."

Ehrendril nods to any looking, the elf known as a master of lore and secrets.  It would seem he believes this story.  Korag, on the other hand, arriving with a tray of tankards, merely scoffs at the notion.  He gives a drink to any who request one, before returning to the bar.

"Hur hur, I am the Champion of Yadda-Yadda, Bearer of the Bullshit, and servant of the Ungrateful King," Syndelia mimics the man derisively. "You are so great that you didn't even hear them coming, they knew exactly where to find you and you didn't manage tp put a scratch on them before we killed the whole lot. Nigh Lady wept! And they wonder why we don't like humans..."

She shrugs at the Firbolg's stern look and nods towards Ehredril.

"You look smug, scholar. Anything this windbag said sounds true to you?"

"You would do best to mind your tongue, elf.  I may be drunk, but I am not yet dead."  The man seems to be growing irate with the manner with which Syndelia speaks to him.

"Leave him be, no point fighting amongst ourselves." Trog picks up on of the chairs between his fingers and places it next to the "bright" man.

"What bright king ?" he asks.


-

The man bearing the crown seems almost taken aback.  Had someone not heard the tale of the Bright King?  Well, it was a troll, so that was quite possible.

"Troll, the Bright King was the man who put a stop to the Raven King ages past.  He bore this crown and struck down the Foe.  How it came to be that I have the crown and that the enemy's forces are searching for it, I do not know.  It has been a long time I wore this damned thing.  And they never stop.  They never stop... they never stop..."

Trog tried to get his head around what the human had said... "Where Bright King now, is it you because you have shiny hat ?" he waved his finger at the crown.

He sat down, because humans liked it when he sat down.


-

Syndelia took a look outside, making sure no more enemies, undead or living, were approaching. Then she crossed her arms again and leant on the wall.

"Maybe your bright friend isn't that bright," she remarks tartly. "Did he strike down the Raven King? Because it seems to me the crow-man is pretty much still kicking. What does he want your 'shiny hat' for, and how come you're the one wearing it?"

Jerec had been listening patiently to the strange man and could tell he was becoming agitated by Syndelia's tone, so he subtly gestured at her hoping she would be less provocative.

"The Bright King...I have heard of him. But that was a long time ago was it not? And what is the first memory you have of you wearing this crown?" Jerec asked the man cautiously, yet in a gentle tone.

Gesturing at the man to take a seat and a drink Jerec added, "Do you have any friends or allies, or have you been on the run by yourself since you came across this crown?"

---

The warrior looks at Jerec, then at Syndelia with a burning gaze, then back to Jerec.  "You had best silence your friend, before I do so.  I was not a man of patience before I was cursed with this crown, and it has done my temperament no favors."

The man rubs his forehead, possibly from a headache, likely from the ale.  He is silent for a moment or two before responding to Jerec.  "I have borne this weight for many years now.  But I am not the first.  I am merely the latest.  I see them in dreams.  So many dreams.  I have forgotten now who I once was, so many years ago...  This crown has taken it all from me.  All I have are the dreams.  Their memories.  So many voices...  And they're all telling me to run.  They're coming...  They're coming... they're coming..."

He again begins to look agitated at the situation, his eyes darting to the door and windows.  A sound can be heard from outside, perhaps footsteps.  But what kind of horror could be heard from within these wooden walls?

As he listens to the man talk about his past, Paran's expression turns into one of sympathy. When the man suddenly turns toward the door, he looks in that direction. "So it seems that you are very important. If what you are saying is true... and it does seem that way, we need to get you out of here now. Who knows how many minions the raven king can send our way."

He quickly glances to the others and says, "Does anyone have an idea of where we could go? At least until we can get a better idea of what needs to be done."

With that he prepares for whatever steps through the door.

Syndelia sighed exasperatedly.

"Oh yes, brilliant! We just met this madman who won't even say thanks for saving him, so naturally we volunteer to babysit him too? Paran... Old Man, scholar, let's use our brains for a spell, yes? Let's say we believe him for a second, and then let's say that we want to help him too... even then, where do we take him and his shiny bauble? If the Raven King wants his golden hat, there is no safe place for him, not even..."

The only safe place she knows of: her own Arrowmoon Tribe, in the deeper glens of the Grimlock Woods. But there's the little detail of her being an exile, and even if she weren't...

"...Nowhere."

The strange, troubled man's disposition was making Jerec feel nervous himself now, something fighting against the undead and the strange dwarf creature had not. Tugging at his beard he glanced away from the man for the moment and gazed at the others, considering their questions for a moment.

"There is my tower...it is isolated but that is its sole defence. If we are followed there we will be surrounded and alone, easy pickings for the Raven-Kings servents. Secrecy was always the greatest defence of me and my old master..." Jerec said.

Glancing back at the crowned man he looked at him for a long moment before turning his head to gaze into the ageless eyes of Ehrendril and went on, "However, I was in the midst of preparing for a journey to elven lands, to the court of the Star Elves. I cannot say at this time why I mean to undertake this journey, but my master and I believed it will provide us the succor we need from the darkness, and give the world a fighting chance against the Raven-King."

The mage was about to say more when the sudden sound from outside caused him to swivel about. He stared hard towards the door, senses at the alert; given the recent arrivals and the crowned man's justified paranoia, there was every indication their newest guest would not be friendly at all.

---

Perception Roll: 82