|
|
Post by Wicksy on Mar 2, 2006 12:38:15 GMT -5
Through your times together, you have travelled from the hot tundra’s and jungles of the south to icy realms of the north. However, you have always found the dale lands more home than anywhere else. It is therefore with great pleasure that you spy a familiar blotch on the landscape. Tyrrell keep inn has been your staging post for many years since you helped its current owner liberate it from the ravages of a bandit clan some 10 years ago. Now a fine and much loved inn, you still wonder if your rooms will be available as they always were back in the day.
You quietly pick your way through to rear of the inn leaving your horses to a bemused stable boy. Entering as you always have through the kitchens, any fear of not being remembered is dispelled by the heartily slaps and hand shakes of the folk who you have helped innumerable times. The next week goes by in a blur of wine, food and merriment. It has been too long since you were here last. However, as fits a land so ravaged by evil, joy soon turns to anguish.
Winter is coming to the dales and the nights grow longer each day. By supper, it is already dark and the moon bright in the sky. As you enjoy a cool ale and the merriment of a minstrel, you hear a shriek outside. Silence falls over the room as two men help a young woman, no more then 15 into the inn. She is bruised and blooded. Her dress is torn and mauled - clearly she has been attacked. She shivers as her damp, lanky hair is pulled from her face. "That’s Selena Buck!" one man exclaims. "In the name of Lathander, what has happened?" "Drow.." she snivels, "They came...my father...mother..." with this, she breaks down sobbing. The men pull swords from their belts and storm about the room. It is evident that fear grips them more than anger. The Drow were again raiding. Nobody was safe. One young man of sixteen looks towards your table. "What of it sirs? People say you are great warriors who saved the dales. Why has this befallen us again?". His question is not malicious, but it stings you. Time and again you have battled those who would enslave the good folk here. Yet still more evil came, like a tide with waves upon waves that seem never ending.
One patron speaks up "Those bastards have gone too far! We shall find them and show them that the folk of Daggerdale are no weaklings!" There are cheers and more weapons are drawn. It seems that a possie is being rapidly formed.
|
|
|
|
Post by Fangor the Fierce on Mar 2, 2006 12:58:35 GMT -5
Mal had little use for the wine and food, for he had become accustomed to his path in life. His ring sustained that which he did not have need for anymore, yet he still partook of the festivities, at times. It was more out of belonging than out of choice. As he drops a small piece of his meal onto the table, letting Slythre eat his own fill, the scream from outside causes him to close his eyes, thinking.
'Ah, there it is, just as was expected. The familiar cry of help that has often times been called in our way. Evil was afoot yet again, but did it know who it would be dealing with this time? I think not, or else it would not have warned us first....'
He then turns, watching the townsfolk bring in the battered child. He turns to the healer, Coppertop, as he has been known to be called, and before he can speak, his eyes dart to the girl. Coppertop would take care of her, making sure that her wounds are closed and that she will live, of that he is sure. As for the others, the white-furred warrior would be the first to join arms with the townsfolk, for certain. Glancing to his allies, he says the familiar term that has escaped his lips so many times...
"Shall we?" he asks, not even a question, but as a beginning to what is about to transpire. He already knows the answer, yet he says it anyways. This group was true to their word, aiding in ridding these lands of evil. This would just be another story to tell their grandchildren, should they live to have any.
He waits for the familiar signs of yes. It is then that he will stand to speak to the crowd...
EDIT: OOC - I think the Half Celestial has the best Dimplomacy checks, so all I will do is aid. (Aid Diplomacy, +8)
|
|
|
|
Post by Japic on Mar 2, 2006 13:04:16 GMT -5
When the wounded girl enters Coppertop is out of his seat in a wink and swiftly crosses to her side checking her over for wounds.  "Be still child, Moradin will cleanse your wounds." <heal @ +14> If wounded he will call upon minor healings to cure what ails her. {Sack HfU for CLW; 1d8+7 healed if she needs it.} Once the girl is healed (or assessed in perfect health) his eyes turn to the group. Mal sought out each of our eyes after asking a simple question. is cool eyes turning to the girl once more he Nods firmly and returns to the table. "...and so it begins again." |
|
|
|
Post by Althael on Mar 2, 2006 14:47:46 GMT -5
Shortly after the arrival of the wounded girl, Akatas is slowly walking down the stairs, her silhouette slightly reflecting light. As always, she stayed away from everybody, meditating in her room. She has never been fond of festivities and such. A human crowd degenerated with beer was enough to keep her away. Behind her massive body, her apprentice was following her, much smaller and feminine, although a bit weird for the common. Upon hearing the young men, Akatas answer him with a soft and slow voice.  ''If you were wielding a sword, maybe this girl wouldn't had been attacked. Good can't be everywhere at all times. Yet, evil somehow manage to do it.''This human was evidently ignorant. Not that this really bothered her, though, his ignorance did bother her. She move next to Coppertop, inspecting the girl too, waiting him to heal her, remaining silent. Thing which didn't stopped can't start again...Her existence would be senseless otherwise. (OOC:Stupid question: Am I suposed to play my cohort or Wicksy will take control of her?) |
|
|
|
Post by Japic on Mar 2, 2006 15:04:22 GMT -5
{Actually, not a stupid question IMO. Some DMs allow PCs to play them, others prefer to handle them as NPCs. It's really up to Wicksy.}
{p.s. by the by, what's the bear doing in a bar anyhow? Shouldn't he be resting with an energy drink drip IV?}
|
|
|
|
Post by Fangor the Fierce on Mar 2, 2006 15:24:33 GMT -5
Ok, so maybe the Monk is not the best to play the Diplomatic one.... lol
I agree with Japic. For Cohorts, I always assumed they were part of the character, and that therfor the character that took the feat of Leadership should have the ability to play them out as they saw fit. The DM usually has the say in what kind of cohort the player finds, but that is only for some DM's. I say let the Monk control the bard. That's just me..
|
|
|
|
Post by Wicksy on Mar 2, 2006 16:09:53 GMT -5
OODM: OK, taking on board what everyone has said, i'll let Althael play her has he sees fit. K Man aloows cohorts to be run by the players in BOYD so why not here?
|
|
|
|
Post by Althael on Mar 2, 2006 19:26:55 GMT -5
(OOC: I'll take a chance and try to run her too then. Two characters seems a bit too much, even if it give some possibilities. If I have too much difficulty after some time, Wicksy, I'll give you the command of Lusione. BTW Fangor, you gave a 2 Int to your familiar, it should have 10 Int.) Walking behind the tall half-celestial, Lusione take a quick look at the situation. She know that her mistress and Coppertop will take care of the situation without much troubles. Seeing that the cleric didn't took with him his ale, a large smile grow in her face. She quickly take it and start to drink it, though, she wish that there were more. She put the glass back on the table, exactly where it was. Her attention is deviated as she see Mal's mouse. She always had a weak spot with tiny, furry animals. Everytime she saw one, she always had to look at it, touch it or anything.  "Mal, can I steal it? Please?"Whatever the situation, her charming voice and joyful attitude always managed to break the atmosphere without much tention. Such attitude would make you think why such a strict and hard person as Akatas took Lusione as apprentice. Their mentality seems so different at times. She slowly place her hand near the mouse, as if she was going to catch it, smiling at Mal, waiting for a reaction. |
|
|
|
Post by Lin on Mar 2, 2006 21:46:57 GMT -5
Ewan sits in the bar, not because of the food and the drink or even the merriment, but because this was the place of the people. Talk was made, tongues were loosed and stories were passed on. All societies had use of such places, Valleys of Song his people called them.
And the song in the air this very night was a dirge.
"The wind blows from the moonless sea tonight," he muses. "Do the people truly believe they can stem the tide with their bodies? Do they wish to drown the sea with their forms?"
Looking to the rest of his party, the group that had seen him through great danger and partook in great truimph, Ewan understands what is to be done.
"We know these Drow, they have short arms but long reach. Atakas says evil is omnipresent and this seems true, but evil has a heart that breaks like any other. These people are like fish, made to swim, not to fight off the seal. Let us claim the mantle of champion, find the beast that would do this to our kith and hunt them down. Good cannot be everywhere, this is true, but as we follow the guidance of Robët the Hunter, we shall be in the right place. Should the blood stain the snow again, let it be once with the blood of those who wish the world red."
WIth calm demenour Ewan pronounces those words, all the while slipping a paw into his pouch to retrieve a red can. A claw flicks it open and as his speech finishes, he consumes the contents in a mere gulp and a half. Abscentmindedly, he crushes the can and places it on the table, his peace spoken and his soul sated.
|
|
|
|
Post by spiral on Mar 3, 2006 5:23:08 GMT -5
"I think these people could start looking out for themselves, see, they are armed, and eager!" Tender points to the men bearing arms and smiles. "Let them fend for themselves, it will only raise the pay they're willing to offer when none of them return alive..."
Tender smiles. If the party were not always so quick to rush off and do these people's work for them, they might lose a few more of their own, and think a little more of he and his friends for their efforts.
He takes a swig of brew. "I'm quite comfortable where I am thanks, and rath well off, aren't you?" He looks up at the bear, the look he was wearing right now could mean one of two things. Firstly, maybe he was about to berate Tender for being "selfish", or "thinking of gold!! you are stricken with some sickness! gold feeds you! but it will kill you little one!", or secondly, he might be considering the facts for once.
"We need not rush off now, must we?"
He drinks some more. The party look decided already. What was this, could they be so bored so soon.
"Why are our lives less precious than these people? It's a simple drow incursion. One unlucky trip could take us down, and who then to stand between these folk and true evil when it really awakens for sure!?!"
He looks to them, hoping they see sense. This stank of reckless, and that was no sweet perfume.
|
|
