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 pre:Every year around midsummer, the population of Daggerford swells as people come from up and down the Sword Coast to partake in the town’s annual festival of games. While merchants hawk their wares along crowded boulevards, crowds gather to witness all manner of contests, from archery and tug-o’-wars to wrestling and pie eating. But alas, ill weather has dampened this year’s festivities. Torrential rain falls from thick black clouds as wild coastal winds howl through the darkened streets. Guests pack the local inns and taverns, hoping for some reprieve while keeping their spirits high with drinking games and music, but the storm has been relentless, and there’s no end in sight. Not surprisingly, the storm has given rise to lots of gossip about recent events in town, namely the capture of a tattooed man believed to be a Red Wizard of Thay. What would a Red Wizard be doing so far from home, you ask? Well, according to the local gossip mongers, he was magically disguised and working for Lord Floshin as a gardener, of all things! That’s right, the same Lord Floshin whose estate was attacked and looted by orcs and half-orcs a fortnight ago. They say the Red Wizard was behind it, and that’s why he’s doomed to hang after the festival. It’s a good thing Lord Floshin wasn't home during the attack. He could’ve been captured and taken away by the orcs. That’s what happened to his servants, gods protect them! One can only imagine their horrible fate. Players  Whycalibur playing the Tiefling Sorcer Zaffre  Lothire playing the Human Cleric, Monk to be, Sion  P.d0t playing the Wood-Elf Rogue Ghepard  Doctor Epitaph playing the Dwarf Paladin Sergeant Barnabus Gorograd Group xp: 12,980/26,000 --- Personalities of Daggerford  Duke Maidwyn Daggerford (human)Lady Morwen Daggerford (human, elder sister of the duke)  Sir Isteval, Retired Purple Dragon Knight (human paladin of Amaunator) Sir Darfin “Longwalker” Floshin, Lord of House Floshin (High "Gold" Elf)Darrondar Gweth, Priest of Tempus (human, Darrondar can serve as a mentor and trainer to a player character cleric.) Delfen Yellowknife, Ancient Wizard (human, Delfen can serve as a mentor and trainer to a player character wizard) Derval Ironeater, Blacksmith (dwarf) Kelson Darktreader, Master of the Hunt (half-elf about 200 years old) Filarion Filvendorson, “Retired” Thief (wood "moon" elf half-brother to Kelson, Filarion can serve as a mentor and trainer to a player character rogue) Luc Sunbright, Priest of Lathander (human, Luc can serve as a mentor and trainer to a player character cleric) Trista the Shadowed, Court Wizard (human, nearing 100 years old, Trista can serve as a mentor and trainer to a player character wizard) Hadeshah, Priest of Chauntea (human, Hadeshah can serve as a mentor and trainer to a player character cleric) Sherlen Miller, Commander of the Militia (human, Sherlen can serve as a mentor and trainer to a player character fighter) --- Places of Daggerford The Ducal Castle Where the Duke, and some 50 people, live. The gates are always open and the castle has its own blacksmith and stables. The River Quareter mainly inhabited by people who make their living on the river including fishers and some merchants. This is also where Derval's Smithy is located. As well as the Shrine of Tempus (Table of the Sword) which is located right next to the town barracks. Money Quarter is where the wealthiest people in Daggerford live. Directly below the ducal castle. It is a district of larger houses surrounded by little yards. Wealthy merchants who can afford a home apart from their place of business live here and a few minor nobles from Waterdeep have small townhouses here as well. This is where Darfin "Longwalker" Floshin's Townhouse is located. The Caravan Quarter consists of primarily wooden buildings, mostly hotels and shops with a largely transient population. It is nearly deserted during winter when the Caravans aren't moving. The Lady Luck Tavern is here. A unique feature of this tavern is a large stone column set in the middle of the floor inscribed with the unique symbols of patrons who have died in battle or diseappeared on a quest. Any toast given in the tavern must include a libation to "those who have fallen before us." The Shrine of Tymora is also in this quarter. Its wooden walls, damaged by fire, were replaced by dwarven stonemasons with walls of sturdy stone. Continuing a long tradition the local priest of Tymora is a halfling named Curran Corvallin, though not a cleric he merrily blesses those who come to the shrine in hope of good fortune and is much beloved in town. The Farmers' Quarter is mostly occupied by farmers who till the soil. Some have small herds of cattle and sheep kept in small pens, and others have chickens in their yards. This quarter is noisy and smells strongly of manure. Chauntea's Temple is a large building with an open courtyard in the middle, lush with plants, and is the center of Chauntea's worship in Daggerford. Its chief priest Hadeshah has three young assistants to help her in the frequent tasks of blessing plowed fields, growing crops and rich harvest. These assistants are more often found in the fields north of town than in the temple proper, while Hadeshah rarely leaves the temple. Cromach's SMithy established by a human blacksmith named Cromach over a century ago is now owned and run by a dwarf named Tholvar Cragjaw, a distant cousin of Derval Ironeater. Happy Cow Tavern a pleasant tavern that serves a clientele of farmers and townsfolk and is a watering hole for the town's halflings perhaps because the tavern was first founded by a halfling retired from adventuring. Jerdan's Smithy run by Jerdan Went, Daggerford's only human blacksmith, who strives to compete with Tholvar Cragjaw by offering inferior goods at lower prices. The Marketplace is a large open area that houses the market every five days, six times a month. Farmers and small merchants bring their goods to the market and sell them from ram-shackle booths. River Shining Tavern is the main entertainment center for the nobility of the surrounding lands and the major notables of Daggerford. The duke and his sister have been known to eat here on occasion, and the main hall of the tavern doubles as the meeting room for the Council of Guilds. The Commons takes up almost half of the area enclosed by the town walls, is kept purposely clear as an emergency pasture for the farmers' cattle and sheep. When no trouble threatens the town, the duke's horses pasture here. This land is owned by the duke and leased to the town. Delfen's Tower was under construction when Delfen the Wizard first came to Daggerford, he paid the town a goodly sum to take over the tower in exchange for swearing to keep the town safe from its vantage point on the hillside. Which he did until he disappeared during the Spellplague. In the century since the duke's guards have reclaimed the tower. The Stables are a general livery stable available to the entire town. Militia horses and the water carriers' horses are kept here, along with personal horses belonging to people living in the money quarter. The Temple of Amaunator (Lathander), though the prayers in this temple are addressed to the sun god Amaunator, continues longstanding traditions of the worship of Lathander who is said to have transformed into Amauntor shortly before the Spellplague. The ducal family worships at this temple, the largest in town and the only one to share the hillside with the castle. --- Okay I want you to post your sheet, or a link to your sheet, in your first post. Usual posting conventions. Your character's name at the top in bold, perhaps linking to your sheet/first post, normal in character text as normal, out of character text in italics. This would be the time to introduce your character and go over what they are doing before the rains start and once the festivities begin to dampen with the falling rain. Recruit Thread And don't forget to hang out in the IRC channel #GoDC Ryuujin fucked around with this message at 04:49 on Aug 22, 2014 |
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May 21, 2014 01:16
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pre:Name Grundle Sion Ghepard Barnabus Yorri Catalyn Race Dwarf Human Elf Dwarf Dwarf Halfling (Mountain) (Wood) (Mountain) (Hill) (Lightfoot) Class Mage Cleric Rogue Paladin Fighter Bard AC 16 16 15 19 18 15 Speed 25 ft 30 ft 35 ft 25 ft 25 ft 25 ft (-5 ft in armor) Lang. Common Common Common Common Common Common Dwarvish Dwarvish Dwarvish Halfling Elven Elven Elven Giant Orc Goblin Gnoll Modifiers STR +0 +1 +1 +3 +3 (Prof) +1 DEX +2 +3 +3 (Prof) -1 +1 +2 CON +3 +1 +1 +2 (Prof) +3 (Prof) +1 INT +3 (Prof) +0 -1 +0 +0 +2 (Prof) WIS -1 (Prof) +3 (Prof) +3 +1 +1 -1 CHA -1 +0 (Prof) +1 +1 (Prof) -1 +3 (Prof) Total +6 +8 +8 +6 +7 +8 Skills Arcana +4 Medicine +4 Athletics* +7 Athletics +4 Athletics +4 Animal Handling +0 (Prof) History +4 Athletics +2 Acrobatics +4 Intimidate +2 Intimidate +0 Athletics +2 Religion+4 Acrobatics +4 Sleight of Hand +4 Persuasion +2 Perception +2 History +3 Search +4 Insight +4 Stealth* +9 Survival +2 Survival +2 Performance +4 Insight* +9 Persuasion +4 Deception +2 Survival +0 Persuasion +2 (Adv.) History +4 Perception +3 History +0 History +0 Saves vs Fear (Stonework) (Stonework) (Stonework) Tools Thieves' Tools* +9 Gaming Set +2 Gaming Set +0 Artisan's Tools +3? * - Expertise Mounts (land) +4 Mounts (land) +0 Fiddle +4 Vehicles (land) +4 Vehicles (land) +4 Flute +4 Gaming Set +4 Mounts (land) +3 Squeezebox +4 Traits Sage Priest Bounty Hunter Soldier Soldier Commoner Ryuujin fucked around with this message at 17:57 on May 21, 2014 |
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May 21, 2014 01:16
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Barnabus "Fooking rain." Bad weather was no stranger to the Sword Coast, but the recent streak was enough to put anybody in a foul mood. Barnabus especially hated rain; he had marched through one too many a storm back in his "glory days," and would rather stay indoors by a warm fire, thank you very much. Incidentally, that's what he's doing right this moment, at the Table of the Sword in the River Quarter. Lodging here had been easy enough. Recognizing his prior service, the battleguards of the temple gave him a bunk and some bread, but Barnabus was ready to get on with his search. He knew that Darrondar Gweth had made it to Daggerford, and surely a venerated priest of Tempus would be welcome in his deity's temple, yet the dwarf had not seen Gweth in the three days he had stayed in the town. The stewards tending the barracks weren't much help, and the rain made searching the town a hopeless prospect, at least for this dwarf. Well, at least the festival and terrible weather had been an excuse to waste a couple of silver on ale. Sighing, the dwarf took one last drag off his pipe before gathering his things and draping a cloak over his shoulder. There had been talk about a murder--a Red Wizard beguiling a local lord. The culprit was to be hanged today, and Barnabus was going to enjoy something about this trip. I'm not sure how well known Gweth is in Daggerford. I'm going to assume for roleplay sake he's been away from the temple for a little while at least, to give me some reason to stick around town. Other than that, Barnabus isn't going to do much aside from use the festival as an excuse to drink (more than usual), and go watch the crowd lynch a wizard. Doctor Epitaph fucked around with this message at 03:02 on May 21, 2014 |
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May 21, 2014 02:57
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Ghepard pre:Ghepard 2nd-level Medium Wood-Elf Rogue Armor Class 15 (Studded Leather 13 + max Dex 2) Hit Points 12 (1d6 Hit Die) Proficiency Bonus +1 Speed 30 ft. (race) + 5 ft. (subrace) = 35 ft. Alignment Lawful Evil Languages Race: Common, Elvish; Background: Orc, Gnoll ABILITY SCORES Strength 12 (+1) Dexterity 16 (+3) (Add proficiency to saves) Constitution 12 (+1) Intelligence 08 (-1) Wisdom 16 (+3) Charisma 12 (+1) ATTACKS Melee Attack: Short Sword (+4 to hit; 1d6+3 piercing) Melee or Ranged: Dagger ((range 20/60)); +4 to hit; 1d4+3 piercing) Ranged Attack: Longbow ((range 150/600)); +4 to hit; 1d8+3 piercing) ARMOR Proficiencies Light Armor, Medium Armor WEAPON Proficiencies Class: Simple Weapons, Hand Crossbow, Light Crossbow, Rapier Race: Shortbow, Longbow Both: Long Sword, Short Sword SKILL Proficiencies Class (4): Athletics, Acrobatics, Sleight of Hand, Stealth Background: Insight, Deception, Persuasion TOOL Proficiencies Class: Thieves’ Tools Background: Mounts (land) CLASS FEATURES EXPERTISE (+5 to ability checks) Thieves’ Tools Stealth Athletics Insight SNEAK ATTACK When you attack a creature and you hit, you can deal extra damage to that target (+1d6) if you have advantage against it or if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it and that enemy is able to take actions. CUNNING ACTION Starting at 2nd level, you can take a 2nd Action on each of your turns. This action can be used only to Disengage, Hide, or Hustle. THIEVES' CANT By 2nd level, you have learned Thieves' Cant, a secret code language. The cant allows you to hide messages in seemingly normal conversation. Only a fellow speaker can understand such hidden messages. It takes four times longer to convey such hidden messages than it does to speak the same idea plainly. In addition, you understand a set of secret signs and symbols used to convey short, simple messages, such as whether an area is dangerous or the territory of a thieves' guild, whether good loot is nearby, or whether the people in an area are trustworthy. RACIAL TRAITS Fey Ancestry: You have advantage on saving throws against being charmed, and magic cannot put you to sleep. Keen Senses: You have advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks. Low-Light Vision: You can see in dim light as well as you do in bright light. Mask of the Wild: You can attempt to hide even when you are only lightly obscured by foliage, heavy rain, falling snow, mist, and other natural phenomena. Trance: You do not need to sleep. Instead, you meditate deeply for 4 hours a day. After resting in this way, you gain the same benefit that a human does from 8 hours of sleep. EQUIPMENT Studded Leather longbow arrows (40) short sword dagger Thieves' Tools ball bearings (100) Mirror, steel manacles (1 set) adventurer's kit backpack healer’s kit mess kit tinderbox torch (10) rations (10) waterskin rope, hempen (50 ft) grappling hook shovel hammer clothes, common bedroll blanket tent lantern, hooded oil (3 pints) Load: 116.14/120 Gold: 143 (spent)/175 (starting) Background: Custom (see underlined, above) Trait: Bounty Board When you are in an area of civilization, you can find information about fugitives and the bounties placed on their heads, and you can secure the legal authority to hunt down and capture or kill those fugitives. Sometimes the authorities will come to you, as an established bounty hunter, with specific requests. Your reputation and knowledge make it easy for you to establish useful contacts in the town watch or guard. When you attempt to locate a fugitive, if you fail to locate that quarry yourself, you often know where to go and from whom to obtain information on that quarry’s whereabouts. Usually this comes in the form of contacts you have cultivated on past hunts. Your DM might rule that this information is unavailable—some creatures have ways of hiding themselves that are very difficult to uncover. P.d0t fucked around with this message at 05:47 on Jun 15, 2014 |
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May 21, 2014 03:06
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Ghepard Ghepard sauntered into the city of Daggerford, cigar alight, just as the storm began to rain down from above, thunder rumbling across the sky. The hustle and bustle of the Caravan Quarter was quickly broken up as people scrambled to their lodgings, to avoid the rainfall. Ghepard didn't mind; most of the people probably didn't notice him anyway, and he knew that anyone who remained outside during this sort of weather was worthy of suspicion. Keeping his eyes peeled, he kept a slow walking pace as he crossed an open square, faced by shops and lodgings. He had been tipped off about the events going on in the city. Given the weather, Ghepard figured he was more likely to find "wet" work than dry.. but you can never be sure when you're in any decently-sized city. A snitch had suggested that the Lady Luck Tavern might be frequented by people looking to hire someone of Ghepard's talents. Nevertheless, he was in no hurry to get there. When you're in a new place, it's always worthwhile to familiarize yourself with your surroundings, and you never know what might catch your eye. Ghepard is using "passive perception" to keep an eye out for sudden movements or sounds (like a shout or scream) that seem out of place or would break the steady rhythm of the rainfall. Perception: 2d20k1+3 = 23
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May 21, 2014 03:35
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 Grundle "Excuse me, miss?" Grundle's left hand held aloft his empty tankard while his right scribbled notes on an old piece of parchment. A long pipe was clenched between teeth that had seen better days—it was unlit, as the smoke bothered him while he was writing, but still packed full of a fine tobacco for when he finished a chapter or gave up entirely; either result deserving of a break. The tankard shook to and fro, clearly empty. "Can you top me off, please? Oh, and whatever that smell is, bring me a plate of its source. Thank you, thank you." The dwarf never looked up. Pressed for time as he was, he'd be lucky if his head hit the pillow before sunrise. There were still a number of pieces of research that old Yellowknife was waiting on. He could trust that his mentor's busy schedule would keep him from noticing the delay for a little while, but eventually he'd come asking personally, and Grundle preferred to avoid that sort of business. Be that as it may, his...readership...had certain demands, and if they weren't met he had no doubt that they'd look elsewhere for their fictional licentious thrills. He grimaced at a particularly explicit scene and took a long swig of cold ale. The waitress was a stealthy one, he'd give her that. He'd not even noticed the refill. What if she'd read what he was writing? He might be banned for...no, no, his notes were in Dwarven script. He breathed a quick sigh of relief, laughing a bit at his foolishness—this was what happened when you skipped both meals and sleep! And oh, what's this? A haunch of some kind? Fantastic. He put his pipe to the side, picked up the meat in his gnarled little fingers and took a great, ravenous bite. As he ate, Grundle took a moment to listen to the chatter in the tavern around him. There was always an odd assortment in the Lady Luck Tavern, and today was no exception. Maybe he'd overhear someone talking about that Red Wizard that was destined to swing. He wasn't a fan of that sort of spectacle, but he had to admit it was interesting. As he chewed he stared out the rain-spattered window of the tavern. What had become of the poor servants at the Floshin estate? Perhaps he could help! He was a wizard after all—and no slouch with an axe, either! Though to be fair, it had been many years since he'd swung his old blade in anything but practice. He smiled, licked sauce from his fingers and picked up his quill again. Maybe in a different life.
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May 21, 2014 03:55
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Sion Constant rain and howling winds. The safety and warmth from inside the temple walls offer comfort to the body, but for the men and women that currently seek their shelter here, the damage to their moral is worrisome. Sion, dressed in the traditional attire of the temple priests moves from person to person, offering comfort by conversation or prayer. The atmosphere is somber, maybe even dreary despite his efforts. It's only been a few days since the storms arrival, but coinciding with the festival has done a number on these people. Perhaps this is why most have taken to the local tavern for respite against the weather, where he has heard they play games that mimic the grand nature of the would-be festival. A part of him wishes to be there, speaking with the wider population, taking in a game of throwing knives or dice. He would not indulge however, for the few people here are in need. On the sides from the central communal point of worship, rows of hallways and rooms stretch. Sion would not know to call this large by temple standards, but it most certainly towered over the moderately sized church of his former home. Two right turns, up the stairs, third room on the right. He was expecting to bunk with the other priests in their rows of cots, but for some reason Luc Sunbright insisted that a guest should be more accommodated. It is however small, but his belongings are few and his needs met. His Chainmail suit hangs limply on the wall rack, years of wear and tear that refuse to be cleaned off despite his care of it. His bag, filled with materials common for an adventurer, sits by the door. His simple wooden quarterstaff and ornate steel cross. It's rare for him to go without these, for they connect him to his past. Lastly, 3 well worn books, written in a form of elven common for wood elves, rest on his nightstand. These books provide him the means to continue his monk training, the efforts of which have both rewarded and cost him much in the past years. There is still much more information contained therein, the likes of which Sion is eager to uncover. He had only just gotten into one when a fellow priest knocks on his wall. A middle aged woman, stern in appearance but kind hearted, insists Sion has done more than enough for the day. Sion knows by now not to argue with her, for her head is significantly stronger than his own. As well, he cannot deny the underlying fatigue staying in the temple so long can bring. Inquiring where Luc Sunbright might be found, the woman shakes her head, stating that he had been called away earlier in the day but not yet returned. Perhaps a visit to the tavern would yield some information on his location, maybe a game or two to help unwind. Finding Luc was not important, but having a goal helped distract from the current situation. Back in his traveling clothes, quarterstaff on his back and relic on his waist, Sion dons a heavy brown hooded cloak before stepping out of the temple. To his surprise, he is greeted by the sight of four youths, all standing before a line grooved in the ground, preparing for a contest. "Remember; reach the tavern, then the stables!" he hears one shout over the pummeling rain. "A run? In this weather?" he ponders to himself. ".. I could really go for a run.." Lining up next to the youths, he smiles. "A beautiful day for a contest!" He can hardly hear himself over the gusting winds, but the cheers of the children ring clearly. The tallest boy signals the start of the race and the line breaks free. Sion soon learns that this race is far more troubling than he first predicted, for the grip of his boots grow less and less with each step, constant rain fall hampering his movement. As the youngest child pulls ahead of him, a sobering thought enters his mind. "Am I.. Losing?"
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May 21, 2014 04:20
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Yorri Sitting in the Lady Luck Tavern, Yorri sips at his ale. It's been a rough couple days trying to find work in the middle of a trade route. Not many caravans looking to pick up another guard. If something doesn't come up soon, he may have to offer his services for free just to get to one of the major trading towns where he could find work. He still had a few days worth of money before he was really desperate. Maybe after this festival there would be some work he could pick up. pre:Yorri 1st-level Medium Hill-Dwarf Fighter Armor Class 18 (chain mail and shield) Hit Points 14 (1d10 Hit Die) Proficiency Bonus +1 Speed 25 ft. Alignment Lawful Good Languages Common, Dwarvish ABILITY SCORES Strength 16 (+3) (Add proficiency to saves) Dexterity 13 (+1) Constitution 16 (+3) (Add proficiency to saves) Intelligence 10 (+0) Wisdom 13 (+1) Charisma 08 (-1) ATTACKS Melee Attack: Battleaxe (+4 to hit; 1d8+3 slashing, Versatile 1d10+3) Melee or Ranged Attack: Light Hammer ((range 20/60)); +4 to hit; 1d6+3 bludgeoning) SKILLS (add proficiency bonus to related ability checks) Proficiencies Athletics, Intimidation, Perception, Survival RACIAL TRAITS Darkvision: You can see in darkness within 60 feet of you as if it were dim light. When you do so, your vision is in black and white. Dwarven Resilience: You have advantage on saving throws against poison, and you have resistance against poison damage. Dwarven Toughness: Your hit point maximum increased by 1 (included above), and it increases by 1 every time you gain a level. Additionally, whenever you roll Hit Dice during a rest, you regain 1 extra hit point for each Hit Die you roll. Stonecunning: You have advantage on any Intelligence (History) check related to the origin of particular stonework. Additionally, when exploring underground environments, you cannot become lost. CLASS FEATURES Fighting Style (Protection): When a creature that you can see attacks you or a target within 5 feet of you, you can use your reaction to impose disad- vantage on the attack roll if you are wielding a melee weapon, a shield, or both. Proficiencies: Add your proficiency bonus to attack rolls you make using martial weapons and simple weapons (included in “Attacks”). You also add your proficiency bonus to ability checks made to use mounts (land) and your skills (noted in “Skills”), as well as to your Strength and Constitution saving throws (noted in “Ability Scores”). You also have pro- ficiency with all armor and shields. Second Wind: As an action, you can gain tempo- rary hit points equal to 1d6 + your fighter level. These hit points can exceed your hit point maximum, and they cannot be regained. If you take damage, these hit points are lost first, and they go away after 5 min- utes. Once you use this feature, you must complete a short rest or a long rest before you can use it again. EQUIPMENT Chain mail, shield, battleaxe, light hammers (4), potion of healing, clothes, healer’s kit, backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, crowbar, hempen rope (50 feet), lucky charm, mess kit, pitons (10), playing cards, rations (4 days), spade, waterskin, whetstone, 12 gp, and 3 sp. Load: ??/?? Background: Soldier Military Rank: You have a military rank from your career as a soldier. Soldiers loyal to your former garrison still recognize your authority and influence, and they defer to you if they are of a lower rank. You can invoke your rank to exert influence over other soldiers and requisition simple equipment, horses, and vehicles for temporary use. You can usually gain access to friendly military bases where your rank is recognized. Proficiencies: You have proficiency with playing cards and vehicles (land), so you add your proficiency bonus to ability checks you make using them. ltr fucked around with this message at 04:58 on May 21, 2014 |
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May 21, 2014 04:45
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Catalyn Woolrider Theme Catalyn removes the fiddle from her chin and offers a small curtsy to the applauding crowd, though most are more concerned with their ales than her performance. The tavern was particularly packed today, festival attendees clamoring for a place to keep dry until the storm outside subsides. Their indifference doesn't bother her much; her agreement with the Lady Luck's owners was that in exchange for her music she was to be paid with drinks on the house and it was time to collect her fee. Signalling the bartender across the room, she hops down from the small stage and is immediately lost among the bar patrons towering above her halfling frame. Deftly dodging the step of the more than a few stumbling merrymakers as she crosses the crowded room, she makes her way to a table at which a familiar face sat. "Happy midsummer to you, Grundle!" she smiles, hoisting herself up to sit upon the table's edge, "How've you been? Yellowknife must be keeping you busy if he's got you writing with a tankard in one hand and a quill in the other. What are you working on anyway?" Without awaiting an answer, she snatches up the page and begins to investigate her friend's work, brows furrowing when she realizes its all written in dwarven runes. pre:Catalyn Woolrider - Lightfoot Halfing Bard (Level 1) STR - 12 12 (+1) HP: 7/7 CON - 12 12 (+1) AC: 15 DEX - 13 +1 14 (+2) Hit Dice: 1d6 INT - 14 14 (+2)(Saving throw proficiency) Init: +2 WIS - 09 09 (-1) Proficiency: +1 CHA - 15 +1 16 (+3)(Saving throw proficiency) MELEE OR RANGED ATTACK Hand Axe +2 to hit; 1d6 slashing; range 20/60 (light, thrown) RANGED ATTACK Hand Crossbow +3 to hit; 1d6 piercing; range 30/120 (ammunition, light, loading)
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May 21, 2014 20:31
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Grundle Perhaps it goes unnoticed in the dim lighting of the tavern, but all colour drains from the dwarf's wrinkled face. "A...uh, happy midsummer...to you as well, Catalyn!" he replies, reaching out for his notes. "Those are merely some notes for a treatise on the effects of various mushroom species found in the local area. Quite fascinating effects can be generated by applying a simple poultice consisting of their caps and er, the..." he trails off, hopefully having reclaimed his notes by now. Should he do so, he stuffs them away into one of his many pouches. "Was that you performing earlier? Splendid as always! Had I not been so engrossed in my sto—mushroom research, I would've been stage-side! I'm afraid my attention has begun to wander in my dotage."
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May 21, 2014 20:40
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Lady Luck Tavern Grundle and Catalyn get reacquainted over drinks, Grundle has made a good deal of progress and Catalyn is working hard to catch up. Yorri sits at another table, slowing sipping his own drink. The tavern is fairly full, and there is quite a bustle of conversation. All three can catch snippets here and there, quite a lot seem to be about this upcoming execution. A conversation at a far table gets heated, one drunk individual stands up and yells, "are ye' daft? You go and you are like to get cursed!" Another man at the table, no less drunk, stands up and yells back, "justice needs to be done, and I am figurin' to watch it happen." The second figure then storms out, and is soon followed by others filled with various levels of drunkenness, anger, and excitement. It seems the execution will be happening soon, and they mean to watch it happen. Table of the Sword Even as Barnabus stands up he can hear whispered conversations, some excited others fearful. The word on everyone's lips is "execution" followed by "Red Wizard". A few get up and rush out, excited, even as Barnabus is leaving. Turning this way and that once on the wet streets he can see them quickly heading in the direction that the execution should be happening. The Streets Sion runs, and runs, feeling the exhilaration of the sport, only to find his footing slipping, and a youth outpacing him. His feet slide on the wet floor, he slides a few feet to the side and catches himself on the corner of a nearby building. He avoids any damage, or embarrassing falls. As he regains his footing he sees that the lead boy has left him in his dust, or would have if it were not so wet. Instead he sees some people rushing another way, recalling the layout of the city, or at least the bits of it he was vaguely familiar with, Sion believes they are heading for the town center. He recalls the talk of the capture of a Red Wizard, and of the upcoming execution. Perhaps that is where they are going in such a hurry. Meanwhile Ghepard is walking the streets, slipping between raindrops and carefully searching shadows. It is all second nature to one like him. He sees the occasional festival goer go by, and as time passes more and more seem to be walking with purpose and a bit of speed, heading toward the town center. Ghepard is nearly to the Lady Luck Tavern when he watches an angry, and drunk, man burst out of the door. The man is soon followed by a group of drunk, but purposeful, people heading toward the town center. Ghepard manages to hear muttered cries of "watch him hang" and similar.
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May 22, 2014 01:15
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Ghepard Making a subtle adjustment to his slow pacing, Ghepard angles himself in the general direction of the handful of drunkards, remaining nonchalant in his demeanor as he starts moving towards where he figures they're headed. Casually inserting himself into the small (but growing) crowd, he listens to see if he can pick up anything more specific about the hanging than what the rumor mill has been circulating... When an opportunity presents itself, he interjects into the conversation, "...men with ropes around their necks don't always hang."  Persuasion: 1d20+2 = 3 P.d0t fucked around with this message at 01:47 on May 22, 2014 |
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May 22, 2014 01:30
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The Streets As you walk along, and then within, the group of drunks you hear a bit more. You learn that a fortnight ago Lord Floshin's estate was attacked by orcs and half-orcs. That Lord Floshin's gardener was actually a Red Wizard of Thay! Under a magical disguise! The cheek of that! That this pretend gardener was with the orcs and half-orcs, that he helped them or led them or something. You hear some good news, Lord Floshin wasn't home at the time and is safe. Unfortunately a number of women, servants, were abducted in the attack. As you speak up one of the drunken men responds with "yeah! Wait what?" Confused by your comment.
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May 22, 2014 01:43
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Ghepard "Well.. y'know. Just like, don't count your chickens before they hatch.." 
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May 22, 2014 01:49
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The Streets "Eh? Chickens?" You have totally confused this drunk, he has now stopped and is muttering your words while trying to figure out what it all means. The others however do not stop for him and continue on toward the hanging.
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May 22, 2014 01:52
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Catalyn Woolrider Catalyn is just finishing her cider when the rowdy group of drunks heads out the door, clamoring on about justice and curses and all sorts of exciting stuff. Grisly business to be sure but evil wizards aren't executed in Daggerford very often and Catalyn was not in the habit of sitting these events out. Turning to Grundle, she motions to the tavern door with a nod of her head. "Care to join me for a walk in the rain?"
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May 22, 2014 02:43
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Grundle Grundle is a few tankards deep now and isn't quite as opposed to a crowd of bloodthirsty provincials as he might be when sober. He leaves a decent amount of coin on the table for the food and drink (plus tip) and stands up, perhaps a bit off balance. "I'd be glad to! A bit of rain never hurt anyone...unless a wizard turned it to acid," he murmurs, not quite to himself. He frowns at the thought. "Hopefully that doesn't happen. Hard to do with one's hands tied, anyway." He quickly rummages through his pouches to ensure everything is in its place, then picks up the peace-bonded battle axe that was sitting beside him and slings it across his back. He lights up his pipe and takes a deep pull. "This is going to go out in the rain," he says. "That was a bad idea."
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May 22, 2014 03:30
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Sion Such a grim event, and at a time of would be celebration at that. Although the thought of watching a man be beheaded does not set well, one cannot ignore the attention it's drawing. Having regained his composure - putting off his lacking performance in the simple act of running for the time being - Sion keeps a short distance between him and the rowdy group heading to the town center. Even from here he can smell the residue of consumed ale on the group and curses of excitement over soon-to-be spilt blood. Best not to disturb those potentially intoxicated, knowing the excitement could lead to a brawl, something he is not well prepared for.
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May 22, 2014 03:48
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 Yorri What better than an execution to watch on a dreary rainy day. Grabbing his axe from where it lay leaning against the wall, he stands up, flips a silver coin to the barman to pay for his ale and follows the growing crowd headed towards the square where the execution will take place.
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May 22, 2014 04:00
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Barnabus Barnabus follows the growing rabble toward the execution site. He was familiar enough with Daggerford to know that they seem to be heading toward the town square. Do they plan on hanging him from the maypole? the dwarf thinks to himself, wisely keeping his mouth shut. He scours his memory for anything pertaining to the words "Red" and "Wizard," but nothing comes up. All wizards are red when they meet my axe, he tells himself smugly. Immediately, he chastised himself for the hubris. Battle is the will of Tempus, not the will of the self. Down that way lies the darkness of pride. (Spout Lore (Red Wizards of Thay) (Intelligence (History)): 1d20+0 1 The catechisms of the god of war rang in Barnabus' head as he continued toward the square. He would make sure to feel no joy in the criminal's death--justice was its own reward. Nevertheless, he could tell that no small part of the crowd had found solace from the rain in their cups; a riot could start at any time. He flexed the fingers of his axe hand, ready to quell any unruly citizen near him. Doctor Epitaph fucked around with this message at 04:58 on May 22, 2014 |
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May 22, 2014 04:56
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Time for a Hanging You all make your individual ways to the town square. Whether from interest, a general feeling of nothing to do, to watch the fireworks, to see justice done, or for whatever personal reason. The rain, and the importance of the event have quenched most of the unruliness, and anger has begun to simmer rather than flare. Ghepard quickly finds an out of the way location on top of a nearby building, giving him a good view, but also leaving him well out of anything likely to happen. The rest find their places among the crowd, some of which parts for the more dangerous looking individuals. And soon most of you find yourselves fairly close to the action, with a fairly good view. The foul weather just won’t let up. Wet banners flap in the cool morning wind as a grim, rain-drenched crowd gathers around the wooden gallows in the town square. Town guards in dark cloaks scan the periphery. A masked hangman ascends the scaffold and waits. He nods to a slender, rain-soaked knight in bright armor, who limps into the heart of the crowd, a greatsword slung over his back. He stands like a beacon of light in the gloom and keeps a watchful eye on the proceedings. A few paces behind him stands a dour elf-noble bearing clad in a handsome gray cloak. The malaise of the crowd turns to anger as the prisoner is hauled toward the gallows by a pair of cloaked guards. The bald wizard wears nothing but a loincloth, and most of his thin frame is covered with serpentine tattoos. His wrists and ankles are bound with rope, and his eyes and mouth have been sewn shut—a sight that doesn't sit too well with the armored knight. The rolling thunder of the storm cannot drown the roar of the crowd. Shouts of ”Kill the wizard!” abound. One old woman cries out, “Filth for the maggots!” A heavily guarded horse-drawn carriage comes to a stop at the edge of the crowd. Through the carriage’s rain-streaked window, you see the pale visage of Duke Maldwyn Daggerford, who watches the proceedings closely. As the noose tightens around the wizard’s neck. the tattoos covering his body begin to writhe. The crowd gasps in horror at the sight, and the armored knight draws his greatsword. Moments later, the captain of the guard signals the hangman to pull the trapdoor lever. A short drop spells the wizard’s demise. Lightning flashes, and you half-expect the wizard to be gone, but there his body hangs, the serpentine tattoos no longer writhing. “To the Hells with him!” a peasant shouts. The knight relaxes as the crowd begins to disperse. Suddenly, a rider on a black horse gallops into the square, surprising everyone. He seems drawn to the armored knight. “My lord! My lord! Terrible news! Cromm’s Hold has been attacked by a black dragon!” At this news Duke Maldwyn steps out of his carriage and makes his way toward the knight and the dour elf-noble. Four footmen appear holding a canopy over the Duke's head, to keep him dry. What remains of the crowd begins to panic and the Duke begins trying to calm them. --- Feel free to go back and react/interact during the execution, but I wanted to get both the whole execution, as well as the next part in, before people started going off on their own tangents.
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May 22, 2014 05:21
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Ghepard "Well that was anti-climactic..." Ghepard muttered to no one in particular atop his rooftop perch. Not that the news about a dragon attack struck him as boring, it just wasn't the specific type of horrible event he had been expecting. Slowly he began to make his way down to see what in the hell was going on with this Black Dragon business. Dropping down into a narrow alleyway below, he began to weave his way effortlessly through the crowded square, hoping to get a closer ear on what the well-to-do-looking folks would say in the way of specifics...
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May 22, 2014 05:34
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Barnabus Barnabus' hand loosened off the handle of his axe as the crowd began to disperse. The wild magic of the tattoos has startled the dwarf--he had seen his share of magic before, but it still frightened him. The adrenaline was not wasted on THAT surprise, however. Upon hearing the messenger talk about the dragon attack, Barnabus found himself approaching the knight and his elven companion. Daggerford wasn't a large city that could spare men to investigate this incident. Whatever manpower they had in reserve was surely taken up by the festivities and making sure the cutpurses didn't make too much of a killing off the festival crowd. Approaching the group of officials, the dwarf will listen to the details of the message, waiting for a respectful break in the conversation to introduce himself to them. He'll extend a hand, preferably to the knight, and say "Sergeant Barnabus Gorograd, of the Order of Tempus, at your service."
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May 22, 2014 05:57
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Town Square As Barnabus steps up he can already sense panic spreading across those that remain in the town square. While people scurry for shelter (from the rain, if nothing else) Duke Maldwyn tries to calm the crowd with assurances of their safety. Meanwhile the knight, who you overhear referred to as Sir Isteval, instructs members of the town militia to marshal soldiers and clerics for a march to Cromm's Hold. There's another flash of lightning as the armored knight, Sir Isteval turns toward you. He gives you an appraising look in response to your introduction, scans the crowd to take in anyone else who looks like they can handle themselves and hasn't run off in terror, and speaks. "Cromm's Hold is well defended, but a dragon might be too great a threat even for Baroness Wynne. If you have no other business to tend to, we could use some additional reinforcement." Duke Maldwyn casts a wary gaze upon the stormy sky then turns to Isteval. "The bulk of our militia will remain here, in case the dragon attacks." "Of course, your Grace," the knight replies. "That will be wise. Thirty stalwart men and horses should suffice." The Duke seems happy with this, and turns to the dour elf, who you hear as referred to as Lord Floshin, presumably the same Lord Floshin whose estate was attacked by orcs and half-orcs a fortnight ago, and asks the elf to join him. Lord Floshin humbly accepts and they make their way to the Duke's keep. Meanwhile the militia begins to rally s force to march on Cromm's Hold, and horses are brought for Sir Isteval. And any of you who step forward to volunteer. Because of his injured leg, Isteval is helped onto his horse.
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May 22, 2014 06:14
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Ghepard Ghepard also offers his services, but rubs his fingers together in the universal sign-language for  muttering something about demand skyrocketting and the cost of inflation.He also appeals to Lord Floshin for more details on the orc attack: "I come from a place where Orcs are predominant, y'see. So I speak the language fluently and such. Perhaps I might be of help in... ahem, proactively deterring any further attacks, if you catch my meaning. For a fee, of course..."
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May 22, 2014 06:38
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Town Square Sir Isteval doesn't seem to have heard Ghepard, or perhaps since there are other strong people who have been volunteering without trying to get something out of it perhaps he is simply ignoring the unsavory rogue. Lord Floshin however stops, and looks for a moment as if he will continue without speaking. But finally he sighs. "I wasn't there for the attack, but a number of things were destroyed and eight of my servants were abducted. One, a maid, made it back. It is from her that we learned most of what we could about the attack. I have heard rumors that the orcs and half-orcs may have escaped to the swamp near Cromm's Hold. If you wish to make some coin so badly then perhaps you can rescue my remaining servants from their clutches." He does not seem interested in your help setting up new security systems or the like, nor does he stay long enough to hear your response.
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May 22, 2014 06:54
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Sion A hanging is better than a beheading.. Right? Doesn't matter, from the time the wizard walked on stage to his fall, a weight of dread held in Sion's belly. Did he really see those tattoos move? He has heard of such things from the many visitors back home he tended to, but a large part of himself never believed any of it. Perhaps he was wrong. Out of instinct he pulls his hood tighter to his face, not wanting his dislike of the event to be seen by the crowd. The action was not needed, as the horseman's words to the armored knight was distraction enough. Careful not to get thrown about by some of the more panic'd individuals, he spots the dwarf Barnabus speaking to the knight, soon realizing that they are accepting those that volunteer. Raising his hand to the knight, Sion is at first hesitant, but speaks clearly. "My name is Sion, a traveler and assistant priest to the Temple of Amaunator. No doubt there will be wounded, please allow me to care for the injured." He them stammers a moment, forgetting he is still without his armor. "Ahm.. I would also like time to collect my things before we depart."
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May 22, 2014 06:59
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Town Square Sir Isteval has a gentle smile at the mention of Amaunator, and Sion notices the knight is also carrying a holy symbol of Amaunator. "Of course Brother Sion we would be glad to have your help. We still have some time before we leave, the militia must be raised after all, so hurry and grab your things."
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May 22, 2014 07:03
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Lord Floshin posted:I wasn't there for the attack, but a number of things were destroyed and eight of my servants were abducted. One, a maid, made it back. It is from her that we learned most of what we could about the attack. I have heard rumors that the orcs and half-orcs may have escaped to the swamp near Cromm's Hold. If you wish to make some coin so badly then perhaps you can rescue my remaining servants from their clutches. Ghepard Ghepard's detective instincts kick in as he begins to mull over this information. "Coincidence," he mutters as he wanders towards the group forming up, "that a town near where orcs are reported to be camped out, is now being attacked by a dragon. In my line of work coincidences like that aren't by accident. I'd be interested to know what exactly was destroyed -- and more importantly, if we can figure out why.. and I'm curious if this maid can tell us anything more.." "I'm not sure what to make of all of this just yet -- could be that the whole thing is a big decoy..."
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May 22, 2014 07:11
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Yorri Might as well be straight forward here, seems like they'll take anyone who wants to fight. Ambling up to the group of volunteers, "Yorri, formerly of the Dwarvish Garrisons. Been stranded in your town for a few days and looking for some action so count me in on this little adventure. If you'll have me of course."
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May 22, 2014 07:19
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Sion Instinct compels him to assess the other volunteers, if only for a glance. His experience tending to human and elf alike goes without saying, the halfling being a smaller variation. The dwarfs concern him however, as they are a rarely encountered race for him. Stories of them made quite literally from stone have puzzled him as to their validity. Medical aid is a universal skill even on unfamiliar anatomy, but his powers may need to make up for his lacking knowledge. Taking the lessons of his previous attempt to run into consideration, Sion makes significantly better time returning to the temple. Normally he'd address himself to the other priests, but as kind as the knight appeared, he knows he did not get his position being light with tardiness. Unpleasant memories return in flashes while donning his armor, inspiring all the more haste. The cloak fits tightly over his armor, a necessity still, for the storm cares not of dragon attacks nor festivals. Something about his gear feels off - lighter, ever so slightly. Perhaps someone took from his bag while he was away, but a quick accounting of his items assure this is not the case. It is also not the time for such trivial mysteries. Stepping outside the temple once more, he recalls mention of horses. With the aid of a nearby guardsman, he makes his way back to the gathering force.
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May 22, 2014 09:11
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Grundle Grundle grimaces and bites down on his pipe as he watches death unfold before his old dwarven eyes. Not a sight he'd wanted, but he was glad he came nonetheless. The tattoos...fascinating. What could he recall about them? His old brain sought its way through the ale-induced fog. Thinking about magical tattoos (Arcana): 1d20+3 17 What did that shifting signify? Could it be a sign of some kind of call for help, or merely mirroring the distress of its canvas? Interesting, interesting. As he hears the annoyed suggestion for brave souls to go after the lost servants, Grundle perks up. Had he not been wishing he could help them in their dire need just a few moments ago? He felt the weight of his old axe heavily on his back. What good were his skills if he merely sat around writing? Maybe it was the ale, maybe the rain, maybe something else, but he was spurred to action for the first time in more years than he could recall. "Catalyn, we must do something about this!" Without waiting for a reply from his halfling friend, Grundle approaches the others present. "If I may sirs, I am Grundle, apprentice of Delfin Yellowknife. While a dragon is no doubt a fearsome spectre for all, we'd do well to give some thought to the plight of these poor souls who were stolen from their master's home. Chances are good that life for them—while it lasts—is most horrific. Let Sir Isteval's great group of soldiers see to the dragon when we arrive at Cromm's Hold. By way of stealth we might stage a rescue from the clutches of these swamp-dwellers!" Grundle pauses, realizing just how little he's been talking lately and just how much he's been writing flowery dialogue. He coughs. "Uh, let's kill the orcs and get the servants back. Time may have run out already!"
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May 22, 2014 12:49
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Ghepard "I, for one, think the old dwarf has a point. Believe it or not, I take particular umbridge with these orcs' sort of behaviour."
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May 22, 2014 19:15
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Catalyn Woolrider Catalyn pushes her way to the front of the crowd to catch a glimpse of the wizard as they slip the noose around his neck. Even though he is bound, the thin tattooed figure sends a tinge of of uneasiness up her spine. Everything she's learned about the Red Wizards of Thay from her favorite tales of Faerun's history comes to mind, further fueling the dread she feels in the presence of one of their ranks (History: 1d20+3 --- Just when she thinks the show is over, the rider's cries of a dragon attack catches her attention. A dragon? in Daggerford?! Almost before Sir Isteval can call for volunteers, Catalyn is already waving her arm outreached, trying to catch the knight's attention. "Sir Isteval, sir? My name's Catalyn Woolrider; my father owns a flock in the farmer's quarter. In light of this recent news, I'd like to help any way I can to defend our home." Catalyn was a bit surprised by Grundle's willingness to get involved, but happy for it. "Why Grundle, I never pegged you as the take-action type! Though, perhaps there are more pressing matters to take care of. My heart goes out to Lord Floshin's captured servants as much as the next, but there's a BLACK DRAGON ON THE WAY! I'm sure those captives will understand the delay of their rescue by a few hours to save the entire town." Hardcordion fucked around with this message at 00:06 on May 23, 2014 |
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May 23, 2014 00:04
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Grundle "When a dwarf likes omelettes as much as myself, he gets used to breaking a few eggs," says Grundle, half-smiling. "Of course I'll help where I'm needed, but something about this black dragon business brushes my beard the wrong way." He scratches at said beard. "Ordinarily—and perhaps this is my musty old brain playing tricks on me—ordinarily a black dragon isn't one for frontal assault. Those wily buggers prefer ambush, subterfuge, guile. For the life of me, I can't recall ever hearing of one doing something like this." Imagining dragons (historical version): 1d20+3 6 "...nope, sure can't." He taps his pipe on his teeth as he blinks away some errant raindrops. "I suppose the fastest way is to see with our own eyes, but I can't help but wonder...hmm..." Grundle keeps his worries to himself, but what if this was merely a ploy to lead the militia forces away? The paranoid bits of his brain are good at keeping him alive, but also do a fair job of keeping him sleepless. They're working overtime right now.
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May 23, 2014 00:55
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Town Square Sir Isteval nods, and gives a kind smile to Catalyn's enthusiastic volunteering. Soon the militia gathers, though you each have time to get any gear you may have left at an inn or tavern. And soon you are on your way out. Cromm's Hold You ride south past farmhouses and cottages. Under stormy skies, Cromm’s Hold is a stark castle, little more than a squat keep surrounded by an outer wall. It looks like it has seen many repairs over the years. Galloping across an open field leading to the hold, you do not see or hear signs of battle. Thunder rolls across the sky as you approach, the rain turns to mist, and a cool coastal wind washes over you. The gates of Cromm’s Hold open as you approach. Behind the outer wall is a bailey with a well, a stable, a small pasture, and a training yard. The keep itself is a simple manor house that looks relatively new. You see a row of six human corpses in the yard. You also see six guards standing watch along the west wall. An armored woman in her mid-thirties emerges from the manor, accompanied by an armored man with a bandaged shoulder wound. As they approach, the woman removes one gauntlet and extends a hand to Sir Isteval. “Welcome to Cromm’s Hold.” “Baroness Wynne,” the knight replies. “Don’t tell me you've slain and buried the dragon already.” “I’m afraid not,” she says dryly. “I’m not as young as I used to be. But enough of that. My sergeant is stricken by a poisoned wound.”
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May 23, 2014 01:17
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How close can we get to those six corpses without drawing attention? Are their wounds visible and if so, do they look to be about what you'd expect from a dragon attack? Any size indicators for the dragon itself?
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May 23, 2014 01:48
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Well you might be able to get somewhat close, depending on how you act, and how you look. Or you could ask. That said even from a distance you don't think they were killed by a dragon.
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May 23, 2014 01:58
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Sion He was sincere when he volunteered to aid in the endeavor, but his lacking experience in combat leaves in him a sense of doubt. His methods are tried and proven for years in training, but when the only real conflict he's seen is a handful of rowdy drunkards.. His hand moves frequently to his healer's kit during the trip; at least in this, he is confident. Field medicine is something familiar and though he has much less to work with than when in a proper facility, he's learned to over-pack on the essentials. The brief sense of wonder at the sight of the keep reminds him how lacking his home towns defenses were. They rarely had need of them of course, but wooden towers and simple garrisons don't inspire quite like this. That sense of wonder falls short when his eyes meets the row of dead. Sitting on his horse as the knight and baroness speak, his attention is drawn to the sergeants bandaged shoulder. Instinct encourages him to investigate as he dismounts with some frustration, his chainmail always more restrictive than he would like. "A poison wound requires rest, moving will only encourage it to spread quicker. Let me take you to rest and examine it myself." Medicine (Wis+3,Kit+1,Prof+1): 1d20+5 = 16
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May 23, 2014 03:15
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Grundle For the time being, Grundle will light up his pipe and puff on it from a polite distance, keeping an eye on the proceedings. Something still isn't sitting right with him. Six dead, six guards... Orokos won't roll my dice right now so I did an insight check in IRC, on the look out for suspicious behaviour. quote:22:22 < scoff> !r 1d20-1
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May 23, 2014 03:23
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