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Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


Hail to thee of Might and Valour

I write to you in in my hour of utmost need. My name is Kolyan Indirovich, Burgomaster of the town of Barovia in the realm of the same name. My town has been haunted these past weeks and months by some fiend, snatching up villagers and travelers alike. My guards have tracked the beast to an abandoned mansion on the edge of our town. A family of ill repute lived there once, but it has been abandoned for many years. Whatever fiend dwells within is more than my people can handle. I beseech you to aid us. 500 gold pieces for each soul to drive this monster from our midst will be rewarded. Contained with this letter are a map of our realm and instructions to reach it.

Kolyan Indirovich
Burgomaster


After a few long weeks of travel, the party seems to have finally reached the outskirts of Barovia. After following many wrong roads and wild goose chases you have arrived to where the letter from Burgomaster Indirovich directed you.

Having briefly stopped the cart you look around the claustrophobic landscape. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the thick mist that swirls around the woods.

The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet you only with silence.



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

Welcome to the game thread! Each player should post an introduction as well as their finalized character sheet. Roll 20 invites have been sent out to all players, the map will be the default location I will leave that unless combat or exploration is ongoing. Rolls should be done with Orokos with the campaign of SA-CoS.

OOC thread

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Wahad
May 19, 2011



Everything by design.


Skinny

The tall Firbolg calmly walks alongside the cart, bow in hand, though uncocked. The rickety wagon was much too small, anyway, and the squad's pace had not been too high, wanting to tread carefully after their few misnavigations. "This realm does not seem very welcoming to strangers," he remarks quietly, though his demeanor remains unchanged, "Aside from the obvious, it feels like there is an oppressive gloom to the air. Though one wonders if it is an effect of this fiend the Burgomaster wrote about." Keeping an eye on the closed gate, he calls back to the sergeant. "How shall we proceed, Sergeant?" Far be it from Skinny to march out of line; so he would simply keep watch, as he always did, for threats that might appear, while the more charming of the squad could handle the gates.

quote:

Name: Erevan, aka "Skinny"
Race: Firbolg
Age: 32
Size: Medium (7'7")
Class: Ranger 1
Alignment: Neutral Good

Background: Outlander
Languages: Common, Elvish, Giant, Sylvan, Orc

Hit Points: 12
Initiative: +2
AC: 16
Speed: 30ft

Passive Perception: 13
Passive Investigation: 11
Passive Insight: 13

Attributes (Modifier/Saving Throw)
Strength: 13 (+1/+3)
Dexterity: 15 (+2/+4)
Constitution: 14 (+2/+2)
Intelligence: 8 (-1/-1)
Wisdom: 16 (+3/+3)
Charisma: 8 (-1/-1)

Skills
Acrobatics +2
Animal Handling +5
Arcana -1
Athletics +3
Deception -1
History -1
Insight +3
Intimidation -1
Investigation +1
Medicine +3
Nature -1
Perception +3
Performance -1
Persuasion -1
Religion -1
Sleight of Hand +2
Stealth +2
Survival +5

Armor Proficiency: Light, Medium, Shields
Weapon Proficiency: Simple, Martial
Tools: Flute

Features:
- Favored Enemy (Undead): +2 to weapon attacks, advantage on Wisdom (Survival) and Intelligence checks to track and recall knowledge, one language of choice.
- Natural Explorer: Ignore difficult terrain, advantage on initiative, advantage on attacks against creatures that haven't acted on the first turn of combat. Additional benefits when traveling for an hour or more.
- Firbolg Magic: Cast either Detect Magic or Disguise Self with Wis, once per rest. Disguise Self allows for smaller heights.
- Hidden Step: Bonus action to turn invisible USONT or until you make an attack, make a damage roll, or force a saving throw. Once per rest.
- Powerful Build: Count as one size larger to determine carrying weight and push/drag/lift weight.
- Speech of Beast and Leaf: Can communicate with beasts and plants, who understand you, but you can't understand them in return. Advantage on all Charisma checks to influence beasts and plants.

Equipment:
- Scale Mail
- Longbow
- 120 arrows
- Shortsword (2)
- Dungeoneer's Pack
- Staff
- Hunting Trap
- Traveler's Clothes
- Trophy (Snake-skin belt)
- Flute
- 128gp

Background:
Traits: I watch over my friends as if they were a litter of newborn pups. / I am always picking things up, absently fiddling with them, and sometimes accidentally breaking them.
Ideal: Change. Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it.
Bond: I suffer awful visions of a coming disaster and will do anything to prevent it.
Flaw: I am slow to trust members of other races, tribes, and societies.

Quorum
Sep 24, 2014

REMIND ME AGAIN HOW THE LITTLE HORSE-SHAPED ONES MOVE?

Sergeant Elayne deWytte

The Sergeant grunts, her flinty eyes narrowed speculatively, crinkling the weathered skin of her brow. "Not very welcoming at all, I'd say. I'm put more in mind of a ganglord's lair than the home of someone calling for help." She strides ahead towards the gates, hefting the gnarled and beaten riot-staff she's been using as a walking stick in one hand, keeping the other empty and hanging with deceptive casualness near her side. "Either way, best to see if anyone's home."

pre:
Name: Elayne deWytte
Class: Paladin (Devotion, intended)
Race: Human (Variant)
Age: 49
Size: Medium
Alignment: Lawful Good

Background: City Watch
Languages: Common, Undercommon, Celestial, Infernal

Hit Points: 12/12
Initiative: -1
AC: 16 (18 with shield)
Speed: 30'

Passive Perception: 14
Passive Investigation: 10
Passive Insight: 14

Attributes (Modifier/Saving Throw):
STR	16 (+3/+3)
DEX	8 (-1/-1)
CON	14 (+2/+2)
INT	8 (-1/-1)
WIS	14 (+2/+4)
CHA	14 (+2/+4)

Skills:
Acrobatics -1
Animal Handling +2
Arcana -1
Athletics +5
Deception +2
History -1
Insight +4
Intimidation +4
Investigation -1
Medicine +2
Nature -1
Perception +4
Performance +2
Persuasion +4
Religion -1
Sleight of Hand -1
Stealth -1
Survival +2

Armor Proficiency: L/M/H/Shields
Weapon Proficiency: Simple/Martial
Tools: none

Feats:
Polearm Master: 
	* When you Attack with a glaive, halberd, or quarterstaff, you can use a bonus action to make a melee attack with the opposite end 
           of the weapon. This attack uses the same ability modifier as the primary weapon. The weapon’s damage die for this attack is a d4, 
           and the attack deals bludgeoning damage.
        * While you are wielding a polearm, other creatures provoke an opportunity attack from you when they enter the reach you have with 
           that weapon.



Features:
Divine Sense: As an action, you can know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. 
You know the type, but not their specific identity. You can use this feature 1+CHA times per long rest.
Lay on Hands: As an action, you can touch a creature and draw power from your healing pool to restore hit points to your target. Your pool has 
Paladin Level x5 (5) hit points. Alternatively, expend 5 points to cure a poison or disease.

Equipment:
Worn:
        Chain mail (AC 16)
        Old but well-polished silver badge (holy symbol)
Slung on back:
        Halberd (1d10 slashing, heavy, reach, two-handed)
        Battered riot staff (1d6 bludgeoning, versatile (1d8), refluffed quarterstaff)
        Shield (AC +2)
Equipment belt, containing:
        Signal horn
        Potion of healing, 1 flask
        Holy water, 1 flask
Backpack, containing:
	bedroll
	mess kit
	tinderbox
	torches x10
	rations x10 days
	waterskin
	50 ft rope
        well-worn manacles
        healer's kit
        battered logbook
        pen and ink

Traits:
Personality: Dear, I've seen some poo poo. It takes a lot to flap me. But when something does, you'd better duck.
Ideal: Not everyone can fight. Those who can should do so to protect those who can't.
Bond: I have no blood family, not anymore, so those who fight beside me I adopt as my own. Trifle with them at your peril.
Flaw: I drink to forget some of the things I've seen. Unfortunately, these days the drink doesn't always do the trick...

Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


After a few moments a cacophony of metal screeching erupts from the gates. A flock of ravens roosting high upon the wall fly off, croaking in annoyance at being disturbed. The large metal gates slowly swing open, until there is enough of a gap for the horse and cart to move through. Slowly the metal shrieking stops and the forest is once again silent.

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

Death, but with a gun



Lordorim Shambastik

Leaning around the other side of the Sergeant to take a look at the oppressive gate in full, the Dragonborn blue blood cranes his neck around the gate for any sign of any guards or sentinels or, anyone really. He lent down to the paladin, "Were we perhaps supposed to meet with someone here Lady Elayne? No one appears to be operating these gates. No one we can see anyway, do you see anything Sir Mokrul?" He said, standing back up and looking back at one of the more perceptive members of their small band.

TheNabster posted:



His Grace, Lordorim Shambastik, Dragonborn Fighter

Name: Lordorim Shambastik
Race: Dragonborn (Bronze)
Age: 20
Size: Medium (6'8")
Class: Fighter 1 (Going Eldritch Knight)
Alignment: Lawful Good

Background: Noble
Languages: Common, Draconic, Elven

Hit Points: 11
Initiative: +0
AC: 16
Speed: 30ft

Passive Perception: 11
Passive Investigation: 12
Passive Insight: 9

Attributes (Modifier/Saving Throw)
Strength: 17 (+3/+5)
Dexterity: 10 (+0/+0)
Constitution: 13 (+1/+3)
Intelligence: 14 (+2/+2)
Wisdom: 8 (-1/-1)
Charisma: 13 (+1/+1)

Skills
Acrobatics +0
Animal Handling -1
Arcana +2
Athletics +5
Deception +1
History +4
Insight -1
Intimidation +1
Investigation +2
Medicine -1
Nature +2
Perception +1
Performance +1
Persuasion +3
Religion +2
Sleight of Hand +0
Stealth +0
Survival -1

Armor Proficiency: All armour, shields
Weapon Proficiency: Simple, Martial
Tools: Gaming Set (Three-Dragon Ante)

Features:
>Draconic Ancestry (Dragonborn): You have draconic ancestry. Choose one type of dragon from the Draconic Ancestry table. Your breath weapon and damage Resistance are determined by the dragon type, as shown in the table. (Bronze)

>Breath Weapon (Dragonborn): You can use your action to exhale destructive energy. Your draconic ancestry determines the size, shape, and damage type of the exhalation.
-5 by 30ft Dex Save, Lightning damage.

>Damage Resistance (Dragonborn) : You have Resistance to the damage type associated with your draconic ancestry (Lightning).

>Fighting style (Fighter): You adopt a particular style of fighting as your specialty.
-Dueling: When you are wielding a melee weapon in one hand and no other Weapons, you gain a +2 bonus to Damage Rolls with that weapon.

>Second Wind (Fighter): You have a limited well of stamina that you can draw on to protect yourself from harm. On Your Turn, you can use a Bonus Action to regain hit points equal to 1d10 + your fighter level. Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or Long Rest before you can use it again.

>Position of Privilege (Noble): Thanks to your noble birth, people are inclined to think the best of you. You are welcome in high society, and people assume you have the right to be wherever you are. The common folk make every effort to accommodate you and avoid your displeasure, and other people of high birth treat you as a member of the same social sphere. You can secure an audience with a local noble if you need to.

Equipment: +85 GP
>Chain Mail
>Longsword
>Shield
>Two Handaxes
>Explorer's Pack
>A set of fine clothes
>A signet ring
>A degree of pedegree
>A purse containing 25GP
>A Three-Dragon Ante set (1GP)
>Diplomat's Kit (39 GP)

Background:
Traits: No one could doubt by looking at my regal bearing that I am a cut above the unwashed masses.
Ideal: Independence. I must prove that I can handle myself without the coddling of my family.
Bond: I will face any challenge to win the approval of my family.
Flaw: By my words and actions, I often bring shame to my family.

TheNabster fucked around with this message at Jun 13, 2018 around 19:43

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage




Brother Sorin of the Ruby Rose

Poking his head up from inside the wagon, Sorin says, "Ah, we've arrived? Excellent!" He gazes at the massive gate for a moment, consternation evident on his face, then he gathers his gear and walks out near the others. He says, "They've really got quite a bit of work to do, aesthetically speaking. I don't think they're liable to pull in much trade with such a greeting."

Turning to Lordorim, Sorin says, "I don't suppose there's much use waiting. Either there'll be a welcoming party inside, or the Burgomaster simply expects that we proceed with all haste to the manor mentioned in his letter."

professor_curly
Mar 4, 2016

There he is!



Noroco "Roc" Olvir
The Shadow-Sorcerer

Noroco sits on his wagon, guiding Horace carefully along the narrow paths and darkened forest roads. The sky takes on the appearance of being cracked and shattered by innumerable dark branches, a lattice of shadow that seems to be growing ever tighter above them. But for his part, the sorcerer seems in good spirits as they travel, the oppressive atmosphere bringing up vague feelings of familiarity and heritage. Perhaps that was the letter in a pouch on his waist getting to his head though - there was a real future for him here, and he wasn't going to be dissuaded by these minor troubles and strange atmospheres.

The gates did give him pause though. Unkempt and unguarded, but still standing stoic and imposing. Was this a defense wall for Barovia? Or some ancient ruin of a forgotten empire? He peers up at the gates, wincing and having to steady Horace as the shrill scrape of metal on ancient metal rings through the forest in response to their presence. That... set him at edge, just a bit. He thinks back to Master Mustrum and his lessons, and lesson number one: If it looks like magic, it probably is.

And then lesson number one, subsection b: If it is magic, it is probably dangerous.

He stands from his perch on the cart, calling out "Hold a moment Sergeant, let me take a look. I'll make sure this is not some sort of illusion or other nonsense."

Noroco hops does and walks forward, tuning his magical senses and teachings in as he looks at the gateway, searching for what sort of magic might be in place around it. He pats Horace reassuringly as he walks forward.

Arcana to see if I know that automatically opening gates are magic that exists
Arcana +1: 1d20+1 21 Natural 20


pre:

Name: Noroco "Roc" Olvir
Race: Human (Variant)
Age: 26
Size: Medium (5'11'')
Class: Shadow Sorcerer (1) / Pact of the Hexblade (1)
Alignment: Neutral Good

Background: Inheritor
Languages: Abyssal, Celestial, Common

Hit Points: 13
Initiative: +2
AC: 18
Speed: 30

Passive Perception: 12
Passive Investigation: 10
Passive Insight: 12
Spellcasting:
Cantrips
---Booming Blade
---Eldritch Blast
---Fire Bolt
---Mage Hand
---Mending
---Prestidigitation


1st Level - 2 Slots
---Catapult
---Shield

Warlock Spellcasting - 2 Slots
1st Level
---Hex
---Shield 
---Protection from Good and Evil
---Wrathful Smite

Attributes (Modifier/Saving Throw)
Strength: 8 (-1/-1)
Dexterity: 14 (+2/+2)
Constitution: 12 (+1/+3)
Intelligence: 10 (+0/+0)
Wisdom: 14 (+2/+2)
Charisma: 16 (+3/+5)

Skills (Proficiency Bolded)
Acrobatics +2
Animal Handling +2
Arcana +2
Athletics -1 
Deception +5
History +0
Insight +2
Intimidation +3
Investigation +0
Medicine +2
Nature +0
Perception +4
Performance +3
Persuasion +5
Religion +0
Sleight of Hand +2
Stealth +2
Survival +4

Armor Proficiency: Light, Medium, Shields 
Weapon Proficiency: Martial, Daggers, darts, slings, quarterstaffs, light crossbows
Tools: Playing Cards

Features:
Ability Score Increase: (Wisdom, Charisma) 
Languages: Abyssal, Celestial, Common
Sorcerous Origin: Shadow Magic
Warlock Pact: Hexblade

Eyes of the Dark
---Starting at 1st level, you have darkvision with a range of 120 feet.
---When you reach 3rd level in this class, you learn the darkness spell, which doesn’t count against 
your number of sorcerer spells known. In addition, you can cast it by spending 2 sorcery points or 
by expending a spell slot. If you cast it with sorcery points, you can see through the darkness created 
by the spell.

Hexblade's Curse
Starting at 1st level, you gain the ability to place a baleful curse on someone. As a bonus action, choose 
one creature you can see within 30 feet of you. The target is cursed for 1 minute. The curse ends early if
the target dies, you die, or you are incapacitated. Until the curse ends, you gain the following benefits:
---You gain a bonus to damage rolls against the cursed target. The bonus equals your proficiency bonus.
---Any attack roll you make against the cursed target is a critical hit on a roll of 19 or 20 on the d20.
---If the cursed target dies, you regain hit points equal to your warlock level + your Charisma modifier (minimum 
of 1 hit point).
---You can’t use this feature again until you finish a short or long rest.

Hex Warrior
At 1st level, you acquire the training necessary to effectively arm yourself for battle. You gain proficiency with 
medium armor, shields, and martial weapons.
---The influence of your patron also allows you to mystically channel your will through a particular weapon. Whenever 
you finish a long rest, you can touch one weapon that you are proficient with and that lacks the two-handed property. 
---When you attack with that weapon, you can use your Charisma modifier, instead of Strength or Dexterity, for the attack 
and damage rolls. This benefit lasts until you finish a long rest. If you later gain the Pact of the Blade feature, this 
benefit extends to every pact weapon you conjure with that feature, no matter the weapon’s type.

Strength of the Grave
---Starting at 1st level, your existence in a twilight state between life and death makes you difficult to 
defeat. When damage reduces you to 0 hit points, you can make a Charisma saving throw (DC 5 + the 
damage taken). On a success, you instead drop to 1 hit point. You can’t use this feature if you are 
reduced to 0 hit points by radiant damage or by a critical hit. After the saving throw succeeds, you can’t 
use this feature again until you finish a long rest.

Feats:
Crossbow Expert: Thanks to extensive practice with the crossbow, you gain the following benefits:
---You ignore the loading property of crossbows with which you are proficient.
---Being within 5 feet of a hostile creature doesn’t impose disadvantage on your ranged attack rolls.
---When you use the Attack action and attack with a one-handed weapon, you can use a bonus action 
to attack with a hand crossbow you are holding.

Equipment:

Letter of Inheritance 
Arcane Crystal (set into the palm of the right hand-glove)
Light Crossbow w/ 20 Bolts
Playing Card Set
x2 Daggers
Scale Mail 
Shield 
Wagon & Pony

Backpack
Bedroll
Mess Kit
Tinderbox
10 Torches
10 days of rations
Waterskin
Hempen Rope (50ft)
Traveller's Clothes 
Pouch Containing (15) Gold


Background: Inheritor
PERSONALITY TRAITS
---I judge people by their actions, not their words.
IDEALS
---Respect. People deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. (Good)
---Sincerity. There’s no good in pretending to be something I’m not. (Neutral)
BONDS
---My tools are symbols of my past life, and I carry them so that I will never forget my roots.
FLAWS
---I’m convinced of the significance of my destiny, and blind to my shortcomings and the risk of failure.
---I like being in charge and get angry when other people tell me what to do.

professor_curly fucked around with this message at Jul 9, 2018 around 22:28

Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


Arcana: While magical doors do exist, not often on the scale of these giant gates. The most likely explanation is that deWytte triggered a variety of Alarm spell that alerted man or machine within the fortress to open the gate. The gates and walls themselves appear to be made of mundane materials and pose no particular threat.

professor_curly
Mar 4, 2016

There he is!


Noroco "Roc" Olvir
The Shadow-Sorcerer

The scale of the doors finally impresses upon him as he approaches, leaning in just to the threshold and looking up and around as he gives up a low whistle, "Mighty big gates they have just sitting here, but they seem real enough. I think walking up to them tripped up some sort of alarm magic deeper inside. I think there is someone or something inside the fort here, they just don't want us to know about it. Could be a show on to put us off, bit of razzle-dazzle to impress the folk, don't see anything dangerous in here though."

Noroco nods, finishing his assessment and walks back to the cart, taking Horace's reigns and leading him through the narrowly opened gates.

Waador
Sep 11, 2001

Smashin' down the light.

Pillbug

Mokrul Verdant Allweather > 8 / 8 HP / 13 AC

Colonel Orin posted:

"...support the squad, but above all I want you to make sure we get the promised payment. Scout out the area and work with Lordorim on getting us some jobs outta this region."
The assignment was simple enough, at least on paper. All they had to do was go to a place nobody seemed to have ever heard of, investigate a problem that wasn't clearly defined, and collect payment from someone they had never met ...who had written them a letter begging for help. 'That makes total sense', he had thought to himself during the briefing. He wasn't particularly fussed, though. The command structure was clear, with Sergeant deWytte taking point, and they seemed to have the manpower needed to solve most difficulties that they might encounter. At least, that was his impression upon first glance of the other people that had been summoned to the colonel's command tent.

Given that he hadn't worked directly with any of his prospective team members before this particular rodeo, in order to allay his general paranoia he had made a point of reviewing their personnel files before they had taken to the road. In general, he liked what he had found. The only wrench thrown into the works was the vegetarian dietary requirements of their sylvan forest guide, 'Skinny'. It had taken him a bit of time to figure out an answer to that one, though he ultimately settled on a reasonable compromise: eggs! He knew where to get a great deal, too ...the only catch was that he would have to purchase in bulk. He wasn't born yesterday, though. He knew that buying eggs and transporting them in a wagon over a long distance was a sucker's game. The only logical choice was to manufacture his own. This sort of thinking, of course, is what leads one to purchase twenty chickens.



Plot posted:

After a few long weeks of travel, the party seems to have finally reached the outskirts of Barovia. After following many wrong roads and wild goose chases you have arrived...
Here's something you probably don't know about chickens: you need a little bit under a quarter-pound of feed per chicken per day (which is about one and a half pounds of feed per chicken per week). You can get a good deal on that when you buy in bulk, too, though ...which is the sort of thinking that leads one to buy several fifty-pound sacks of grain. Two hundred pounds of grain, in fact. Sufficed to say, before they even set out on their road trip, Noroco's wagon was well-stocked with something resembling supplies. Aside from the chickens, and the bags of grain to feed them, and the empty barrel he was using as a portable coop, he had also purchased a variety of spices with which to prepare the eggs (and, as necessary, the chickens), including flour, salt, ginger, cinnamon, pepper, and cloves.

pre:
Cook's utensils, used to prepare eggs and chicken during our journey - 22 (natural 20!)
Chickens eaten (animal handling) -- 8
Eggs eaten -- well over a hundred
He wasn't a professional chef by any means, but in comparison to the stale bread and dry rations the group had brought with them, his evening campfire meals might as well have been a small miracle.

He hadn't anticipated being on the road for nearly three weeks, though. In retrospect, he probably should have expected that, given that they didn't actually know where they were going. In any event, his two hundred pounds of feed had dwindled down to nearly half the original amount. More importantly, as you might imagine, chickens don't travel very well. A mix of natural predation (involving what he believed to be a dire goose), stress-related losses, and an unfortunate accident involving a wagon wheel during 'chicken recess' had dwindled his brood down to an even dozen. On the bright side, at least, their eight fallen comrades were delicious, and their sacrifices would never be forgotten.

Plot posted:

Having briefly stopped the cart you look around the claustrophobic landscape. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. Giant trees loom on both sides of the road, their branches clawing at the thick mist that swirls around the woods. The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you.

Skinny posted:

"This realm does not seem very welcoming to strangers..."

Sergeant Elayne deWytte posted:

"Not very welcoming at all, I'd say. I'm put more in mind of a ganglord's lair than the home of someone calling for help."

Brother Sorin of the Ruby Rose posted:

"They've really got quite a bit of work to do, aesthetically speaking. I don't think they're liable to pull in much trade with such a greeting."

Noroco 'Roc' Olvir posted:

"Could be a show on to put us off, bit of razzle-dazzle to impress the folk, don't see anything dangerous in here though."
As they finally began to close in on what they believed to be their destination, he silently noted that the changes in the landscape might as well have been a slowly tightening noose for all their subtlety. Assuming the intended effect was the obvious one, he noted that it seemed to be working, given the growing unease evident in the tone and body language of his companions. For better or worse, his unique mix of happy-go-lucky elven blood and spiteful goblin bile made him wholly unwilling to give up the high ground, though, and he cheerfully comments to his teammates, "Oh, don't be like that. I'm sure they're doing the best they can. I bet you'd have a hard time convincing the local landscaper guild to get out on the grounds with a 'fiend' snatching up villagers and travelers, too." Massaging the back of his neck as he takes in the scene around him, he soon adds, "If I'm being honest, I kind of like the fog cloud aesthetic. The profile of those giant gates with that mist curling around it would make for a great painting, don't you think?"

Lordorim Shambastik posted:

"Were we perhaps supposed to meet with someone here Lady Elayne? No one appears to be operating these gates. No one we can see anyway, do you see anything Sir Mokrul?"
He didn't see much of anything, largely due to the aforementioned cloud of fog. The road behind them had already been swallowed, and their forward-looking visibility wasn't particularly generous, either. With a shrug, he offers, "Honestly, no, can't see much of anything. It might sound counter-intuitive, but that's a good thing, though: if there's anything lying in wait to ambush travelers, it'll be as blind as we are until we're right in the middle of it. Just don't fall into a poorly-concealed pit in the middle of the road." Eyeing the giant trees, clawing branches, and thick mist that surrounded both sides of the road, he also adds, "I assume this doesn't need to be said, but it'd be nice if you could all kindly resist the urge to go running blindly into the murder forest. Can we all agree that it is safe to assume that the screams of any 'innocent maidens' from a few hundred yards into yonder meatgrinder should be taken with a few grains bags of salt?"

__________________________________________________________________________________________
Passive: Perception (16) / Investigation (16) / Insight (14) / Darkvision (60')
Effects: Inspiration / Concentration (chickens) / Stealth
Resources:: Hit Dice (1/1d8) / Arrow (20)
Livestock: Chickens (12) / Chicken Feed (100 pounds)
Map / Journal
__________________________________________________________________________________________


pre:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name:		Mokrul Verdant Allweather			Alignment:	Chaotic Good
Race:		Half-elf / Half-goblin				Background:	Free Trade Inquisitor (Waukeen)
Class:		Rogue (1)					Size:		Medium

STR		14 (+2)	[13 base + 1 racial]	[5]		INT		14 (+2)	[13 base + 1 racial]	[5]
DEX		14 (+2)	[14 base]		[7]		WIS		14 (+2)	[14 base]		[7]
CON		10 (+0)	[10 base]		[2]		CHA		10 (+0)	[ 8 base + 2 racial]	[0]

HP		 8 /  8	[ 8 rogue + 0 ability]			AC		13	[ 2 ability + 0 shield + 11 armor]
Speed		30'	[30 racial]				Initiative	+2	[ 2 ability]
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Special abilities:
  Background:	Legal authority
		• As an inquisitor of the church, you have the authority to arrest criminals.
		  In the absence of other authorities, you are authorized to pass judgment and even carry out sentencing.
		  If you abuse this power, however, your superiors in the church might strip it from you.

  Race:		• Darkvision
		You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it
		were dim light.  You can’t discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.

		• Fey ancestry
		You have advantage on saving throws against being charmed, and magic can’t put you to sleep.

  Class:	• Rogue (Lv. 1)
		Sneak attack +1d6
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Skills:
Athletics		+ 2		---		STR	[0 proficiency + 2 ability]
Acrobatics		+ 2		---		DEX	[0 proficiency + 2 ability]
Sleight of hand		+ 2		---		DEX	[0 proficiency + 2 ability]
Stealth			+ 4		Rogue		DEX	[2 proficiency + 2 ability]
Knowledge
   (arcana)		+ 4		Background	INT	[2 proficiency + 2 ability]
   (history)		+ 4		Half-elf	INT	[2 proficiency + 2 ability]
   (investigation)	+ 6		Rogue		INT	[2 proficiency + 2 ability + 2 expertise]
   (nature)		+ 4		Half-elf	INT	[2 proficiency + 2 ability]
   (religion)		+ 4		Background	INT	[2 proficiency + 2 ability]
Animal handling		+ 2		---		WIS	[0 proficiency + 2 ability]
Insight			+ 4		Rogue		WIS	[2 proficiency + 2 ability]
Medicine		+ 2		---		WIS	[0 proficiency + 2 ability]
Perception		+ 6		Rogue		WIS	[2 proficiency + 2 ability + 2 expertise]
Survival		+ 2		---		WIS	[0 proficiency + 2 ability]
Deception		---		---		CHA	[0 proficiency + 0 ability]
Intimidation		---		---		CHA	[0 proficiency + 0 ability]
Performance		---		---		CHA	[0 proficiency + 0 ability]
Persuasion		---		---		CHA	[0 proficiency + 0 ability]

Equipment:
Arms			Simple / Rogue				[Rogue]
Armor			Light					[Rogue]
Tools			Thieves' tools				[Rogue]
			Mason's tools				[Background]
			Carpenter's tools			[Background]

Languages:		Common / Elven / Draconic		[Half-elf]
			Thieves' cant				[Rogue]

Saves:
Strength		+ 2		---			[0 proficiency + 2 ability]
Dexterity		+ 4		Rogue			[2 proficiency + 2 ability]
Constitution		---		---			[0 proficiency + 0 ability]
Intelligence		+ 4		Rogue			[2 proficiency + 2 ability]
Wisdom			+ 2		---			[0 proficiency + 2 ability]
Charisma		---		---			[0 proficiency + 0 ability]
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Inventory:
  Background
    a holy symbol
    a set of traveler’s clothes
    a belt pouch containing 15 gp (plus 125 gp in bonus gold)

  Class
    a rapier
    a shortbow and quiver of 20 arrows
    a burglar’s pack
    Leather armor
    Dagger (x2)
    Thieves’ tools

  Purchases
7.52/ 140    gp		remaining
      [10    gp]	Calligrapher's supplies		  5 lb.
      [ 8    gp]	Carpenter’s tools		  6 lb.
      [15    gp]	Cartographer’s tools		  6 lb.
      [ 5    gp]	Cobbler’s tools			  5 lb.
      [ 1    gp]	Cook’s utensils			  8 lb.
      [25    gp]	Jeweler’s tools			  2 lb.
      [ 5    gp]	Leatherworker’s tools		  5 lb.
      [10    gp]	Mason’s tools			  8 lb.
      [10    gp]	Painter’s supplies		  5 lb.
      [10    gp]	Potter’s tools			  3 lb.
      [20    gp]	Smith’s tools			  8 lb.
      [ 1    gp]	Weaver’s tools			  5 lb.
      [ 1    gp]	Woodcarver's tools		  5 lb.
      [ 2    gp]	Barrel				 70 lbs.
      [ 1    gp]	Animal feed (x20)		200 lbs.
      [ 0.40 gp]	Chickens (x20)			 -- lbs.
      [ 0.01 gp]	Wheat				  1 lb.
      [ 0.02 gp]   	Flour				  1 lb.
      [ 0.05 gp]	Salt				  1 lb.
      [ 1 gp]		Ginger				  1 lb.
      [ 2 gp]		Cinnamon			  1 lb.
      [ 2 gp]		Pepper				  1 lb.
      [ 3 gp]		Cloves				  1 lb.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

professor_curly
Mar 4, 2016

There he is!


Noroco "Roc" Olvir
The Shadow-Sorcerer

quote:

"The profile of those giant gates with that mist curling around it would make for a great painting, don't you think?"

He nods in affirmation as Mokrul speaks, giving the half-elf a sly grin, "Yes indeed, I do think that this particular fortress strikes a truly venerable visage. I wonder when this was built though. It looks ancient, but surely this would have made an impression on the surrounds. I haven't heard any stories about this... strange."

Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


Having found no particular issue with the gateway, the cart and party move forward past the gate and into Barovia proper. Almost immediately the fog closes in around the group, clinging to the cart and suffocating all talk.

After 45 minutes of uneventful travel the fog lifts and Erevan is the first to spot something odd in the roadway. In the middle of the road lies a solitary boot. A few feet away in the ditch is another, attached to its owner. In the muck and underbrush lies a body half buried.

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage



Brother Sorin of the Ruby Rose

Sorin mutters a quick prayer to Sune as he unsheathes his dagger and it flares with light. It doesn't do much to cut through the remnants of fog still clinging to the land, but it reminds him of his goddess's presence and helps steel his resolve. He says, "Poor bastard, nobody deserves to be left like that." He approaches the body, careful to keep his eyes peeled for hidden dangers, and adds, "I'd like to perform a few rites for him."

Perception: 1d20+5 17

Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


Perception: A human corpse half-buried in the underbrush is about fifteen feet from the road. The young man appears to be a commoner. His muddy clothes are torn and raked with claw marks. Crows have been at the body, which is surrounded by the paw prints. The man has obviously been dead for several days. Clutched in his hand is a letter. Stained with mud and water, the only legible parts of the letter read;

Hail to thee of Might and Valour

...[unintelligible] For over four hundred years this creature has drained the life blood of my people. ...[unintelligible], beast, he has become to poweful too conquer. [unintelligible] With the symbols of good and holy men [unintelligible] There is much wealth entrapped within our community, Return after [unintelligible]

Kolyan Indirovich
Burgomaster

professor_curly
Mar 4, 2016

There he is!


Noroco "Roc" Olvir
The Shadow-Sorcerer

Noroco narrows his eyes, standing up from his seat on the cart and grabbing his shield from its peg behind him. He scans the area warily, a dead body never a great sign for the travelling band. He starts twitching his right hand instinctively, peering into the fog as Sorin advances and searches the body.

Perception (Searching the Fog/Darkvision 120): 1d20+4 12

Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


Perception: While scanning the fog covered area nothing pulls your attention aside from the lone howl of a wolf that breaks the silence while Sorin inspects the body by the side of the road.

Wahad
May 19, 2011



Everything by design.


"Skinny" Erevan

The tall scout carefully takes one arrow out of his quiver, waiting for a sign of any threat - wild animal or otherwise - to come. The body may have been dead for a while, but nonetheless, such things attracted hungry scavengers of many sorts. "Be quick with it, Brother," he calls, taking a few steps forward so he is between the cart and Sorin, "A realm that lets dead things lie beside the road is not a peaceful one."

Quorum
Sep 24, 2014

REMIND ME AGAIN HOW THE LITTLE HORSE-SHAPED ONES MOVE?

Sergeant deWytte

Elayne nods, half to herself, and stows the riot staff on her back before loosing the straps that secure her halberd and hefting it. "At the ready from here, I think," she says, casually. "Whatever did this may still be out there. Though in this fog, who can tell?"

Waador
Sep 11, 2001

Smashin' down the light.

Pillbug

Mokrul Verdant Allweather > 8 / 8 HP / 13 AC

Plot posted:

After 45 minutes of uneventful travel the fog lifts and Erevan is the first to spot something odd in the roadway.
He had taken the opportunity to hop onto the back of the cart as the group began their passage through the gates, and spent the better part of the last forty-five minutes absentmindedly swinging his feet over the rim of the vehicle's cargo bed, wobbling with the rhythm of the wheels. He was taking the opportunity to collect his thoughts, and consider the scene unfolding around him. Before too long, he had retrieved his calligraphy kit from his pack, and began inking an entry into his journal. A nearby observer might note that the left-hand page was written in elvish script, whereas the accompanying right-hand of each page was encoded in the etchings of the draconic tongue.

Plot posted:

In the middle of the road lies a solitary boot. A few feet away in the ditch is another, attached to its owner. In the muck and underbrush lies a body half buried.

Brother Sorin of the Ruby Rose posted:

"Poor bastard, nobody deserves to be left like that ... I'd like to perform a few rites for him."

Skinny posted:

"Be quick with it, Brother ... a realm that lets dead things lie beside the road is not a peaceful one."

Sergeant deWytte posted:

"Whatever did this may still be out there. Though in this fog, who can tell?"
Focused as he was on the task of updating his journal, he only passively registered the change in momentum that foreshadowed the wagon easing to a halt. The abrupt flare of light from Brother Sorin's blade managed to draw his eyes up from the page, though, just in time to catch the tail end of an uneasy conversation between three of his companions. He took a moment to take stock of the broader scene, almost entirely ignoring the corpse laying in the ditch, finding his eyes drawn to a far more important matter.

Brother Sorin of the Ruby Rose posted:

... he unsheathes his dagger and it flares with light ..

Noroco 'Roc' Olvir posted:

... standing up from his seat on the cart and grabbing his shield from its peg behind him ... twitching his right hand instinctively, peering into the fog...

Skinny posted:

... carefully takes one arrow out of his quiver, waiting for a sign of any threat ... taking a few steps forward so he is between the cart and Sorin ...

Sergeant deWytte posted:

... stows the riot staff on her back before loosing the straps that secure her halberd and hefting it ...
He'd reviewed their personnel files, to be sure, but the only way to really get to know a person was to observe them directly. Their journey so far had been slightly stressful, and longer than expected, but it hadn't been dangerous in the classic sense. No bandits had accosted them on the road, and aside from that one incident with the dire goose, the scoundrels and brigands of nature had also given them a wide berth. This was the first truly tense moment the group had run into since setting out together, and he found it deeply informative, because it spoke to the instincts of his companions.

In the face of what seemed to be certain danger, Brother Sorin would still make time to minister the funeral of a man he had never met, albeit with a blade and his faith at the ready. Their sylvan guide, Skinny, had an undeniable protective bent. The arrow at the ready didn't surprise him, but the subconscious positioning so that he was within a quick dash to any of his charges was extremely telling. A nearby observer would almost certainly have noted Mokrul holding back a smirk and very nearly laughing aloud, precisely in sync with the moment he decided to start mentally referring to Skinny as 'Mama Bear'.

The response of the wagon master, Noroco, was also telling: retrieving his shield suggested that his first thought was to protect himself, which stood in stark contrast to Mama Bear. Mokrul didn't begrudge that, though ...after all, it was a clinical assessment, not a judgmental one. He filed the information away for later. If the group ever got separated, that sort of knowledge would help inform his search parameters. The Sergeant was an interesting case study in and of herself. The slightest provocation didn't have her drawing a weapon, but upgrading to a larger one. When had she even drawn the smaller truncheon? More than an hour ago, he realized. It seemed she hadn't even considered the possibility of putting it away while they walked along the road. 'My, my.', he thought to himself, 'What an amazingly dangerous woman.'

Not wanting to be the last to react, he calmly removes his journal from his lap and sets it on the cargo bed of the wagon, content to let the ink dry while this situation resolved itself. Hopping off the rim of the vehicle from where he had been sitting, he makes his way over to Brother Sorin, and for the first time seems to acknowledge the corpse. "Would you care to bury him here, or should we wrap him up and take him with us? Without knowing their local burial rites, it might be safer to be the bearers of bad news to the locals, rather than earning their enmity by committing some social faux pas by burying a body instead of burning it ...or the other way around, I suppose."

>> Knowledge (nature) 21 >> Trying to determine what killed the man in the ditch and/or discern nearby predators.

Breaking eye contact with Brother Sorin, he turns his gaze towards the corpse, considering its wounds. "You want to know something interesting?", he inquires aloud, thinking back over the last hour or so.

Plot posted:

A flock of ravens roosting high upon the wall fly off, croaking in annoyance at being disturbed.

Plot posted:

Crows have been at the body, which is surrounded by the paw prints.
He continues without any real need for a prompting, "There was a flock of ravens roosting on the gate, less than an hour back. They probably didn't kill him, but this body has definitely been picked at by crows. You don't normally see that, you know? Crows and ravens sharing territory, I mean. Ravens will go out of their way to destroy the nests of crows, and a murder of crows will mob a raven if they get a chance. It's because the ravens will eat nestling crows, more or less." He shrugs, as if apologizing for the comment in case it came across as random trivia.

A casual observer would note that he was the only one of the group who hadn't yet drawn a weapon.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Passive: Perception (16) / Investigation (16) / Insight (14) / Darkvision (60')
Effects: Inspiration / Concentration (chickens) / Stealth
Resources:: Hit Dice (1/1d8) / Arrow (20)
Livestock: Chickens (12) / Chicken Feed (100 pounds)
Map / Journal
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Waador fucked around with this message at Jun 14, 2018 around 18:48

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage



Brother Sorin of the Ruby Rose

Sorin looks up from the letter at Morkul's question. His brows narrow a moment, honed instincts from years in Lady Firehair's worship warring with the intellectual understanding that they were in a land not his own, and he slowly nods. He says, "That's a good thought, Morkul. I hadn't considered it. I'll speak a quick blessing and we can take the body to town." He sings a short hymn, hand gesturing over the body, and slowly stands. There was.... there was one last thing they needed to discuss, though leaving the area would surely rest his nerves.

He calls out, "Sergeant. You'll want to see this. It's another letter from the Burgomaster and... well, I suspect that things may have progressed past 500 coins per soul." Walking over, he deposits the muddy letter in her hand. "I don't much like the sounds of it."

Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


Breaking through the mists another wolf howl echoes through the woods. The call is shortly followed by another howl, then two more. The first call sounded quite close, while the others were more distant.

Quorum
Sep 24, 2014

REMIND ME AGAIN HOW THE LITTLE HORSE-SHAPED ONES MOVE?


Sergeant deWytte

Waador posted:

"Would you care to bury him here, or should we wrap him up and take him with us? Without knowing their local burial rites, it might be safer to be the bearers of bad news to the locals, rather than earning their enmity by committing some social faux pas by burying a body instead of burning it ...or the other way around, I suppose."

Tricky posted:

"That's a good thought, Morkul. I hadn't considered it. I'll speak a quick blessing and we can take the body to town."

"Always a good idea to stay on the right side of the local customs," Elayne agrees, relaxing slightly at the inexplicable failure of any well-armed bandits or slavering wolves to appear from the undergrowth. "Though if we've anything aboard the wagon to cover the smell, that'd be even better."

Seeing the good Brother's approach with his scrap of parchment, Sergeant accepts the letter and gives it a quick scan, letting the halberd relax into the crook of her arm as she does so. When she reaches the end, she re-reads the letter, this time aloud. "'...For over four hundred years this creature has drained the life blood of my people,' hmm? Seems a tad different than 'these past weeks and months.' Either the good burgomaster and his town are unlucky enough to be dealing with multiple fiends worthy of hiring sellswords, or someone is playing games. I'm not sure which prospect I like less, which is unfortunate, since in my experience it's usually that one." Striding the few steps to the wagon, she reaches up to where her pack rests and pulls out a battered leather book, into which she inserts the muddy parchment like a mildly ominous bookmark before returning it to the pack.

"If we're going to load him up, let's do it quickly. I'd like to make it to civilization as soon as possible so we can clear up any misunderstanding with the burgomaster. That, and I'm sure we'd all be glad to spend a night in a warm bed."

At this, of course, howls rang out through the night, and immediately the sergeant was tense again, the halberd back in her hands as though by magic. "Did I say quickly?" she asks, her voice calm but very low. "I meant on the double-quick."

Quorum fucked around with this message at Jun 14, 2018 around 17:27

Wahad
May 19, 2011



Everything by design.


"Skinny" Erevan

Though he seemed unconcerned, the Firbolg raised his bow a little more, ready to shoot any threat that might appear. "If it is just wolves, I am not worried." He started preceding the wagon, motioning for the others to follow, as soon as the body was laid up on the wagon. "With a halfway decent pace we should be able to make it to town soon, if the instructions in the letter are correct." His posture lowers a bit, his footsteps becoming more quiet, and the scout's gaze swept from left to right, not quite ready to be taken off-guard by ambushing wolves or worse just yet. The letter had him feeling rather somber; but the thought of it - and the consequences - could be dealt with when they were safe at an inn. Dark thoughts would do them no good for now.

professor_curly
Mar 4, 2016

There he is!


Noroco "Roc" Olvir
The Shadow-Sorcerer

He purses his lips slightly as the wolf howls get closer. He holds his shield lightly at the side, but does raise his right arm in the direction of the howls. The rhythmic sway of his fingers grows more purposeful, the center of his palm glowing a dull, flickering red as flames begin to lick up around his fingertips, "I can try to clean up the body and the letter later, right now I think something has our scent."

Hold Action: Fire Bolt if I see a creature emerge from the mist, looking in the direction of the closer howl. Basically providing cover while they move the body.

Perception (Looking for Wolves): 1d20+4 18 with 120' darkvision

Waador
Sep 11, 2001

Smashin' down the light.

Pillbug

Mokrul Verdant Allweather > 8 / 8 HP / 13 AC

Plot posted:

Breaking through the mists another wolf howl echoes through the woods. The call is shortly followed by another howl, then two more. The first call sounded quite close, while the others were more distant.

Sergeant deWytte posted:

"Did I say quickly?" she asks, her voice calm but very low. "I meant on the double-quick."
Shaking his head at the urgency of it all, Mokrul motions to Lordorim, and comments, "Heave-ho!" Sorin gets there first, but Mokrul isn't complaining.

>> Action >> Help is offered for an advantaged athletics check to heave the corpse into the wagon.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Passive: Perception (16) / Investigation (16) / Insight (14) / Darkvision (60')
Effects: Inspiration / Concentration (chickens) / Stealth
Resources:: Hit Dice (1/1d8) / Arrow (20)
Livestock: Chickens (12) / Chicken Feed (100 pounds)
Map / Journal
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Waador fucked around with this message at Jun 14, 2018 around 18:43

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage



Brother Sorin of the Ruby Rose

Sorin returns to the body and begins tugging it towards the wagon. With Morkul's help, the process seems to take no time at all.

Athletics (move the body, advantage from Morkul): 2d20k1+2 22

Tricky fucked around with this message at Jun 14, 2018 around 17:57

Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


Sorin and Mokrul quickly load the body into the back of the wagon, and the squad quickly moves on. The howls quickly fade away in the woods behind. On alert, the group moves along the path with an eye out for more trouble, but no more oddities are found. As you travel the fog begins to fade away, and the thick woods begin to break. The sky above is grey and dark as though a thunderstorm is soon to break, but thankfully no rain comes.

The road suddenly turn sharply and the party finds themselves out of the woods. The valley in front of them is as grey and dismal as the woods before them. To the south a bright blue river cuts through the landscape, winding its way westward under a stone bridge and into more wooded areas.

Directly ahead lays what must be the town of Barovia. Dark building huddle next to eachother in the shadow of the woods. For a town of this size there is surprisingly little activity. No other carts are visible on the roads, and there are only few farmsteads around the town. In the village itself lights are visible and vague figures of people moving to and fro. On outskirts of the town you can indeed see a large estate, the instructions mentioned that it should be visible from a distance.

But what is most noticable about the landscape is the castle. On a hilltop a massive castle looms above the town of Barovia. Great battlments protect it even along a great precipice on the eastern side. Huge spires rise high into the dark clouds that swirl overhead.

Ovo fucked around with this message at Jun 14, 2018 around 19:45

Wahad
May 19, 2011



Everything by design.


"Skinny" Erevan

The scout's posture relaxes further and further as they come into view of the town, and he eventually puts his arrow back into his quiver in order not to spook the people. He rolled his neck a little, then looked back at the cart. "So far so good. Seems peaceful enough. What's next, Sergeant? Tavern first, or straight for the burgomaster's manse?" He shouldered his bow entirely, now, smiling gently. He had learned that a slow, gentle approach was the best way not to spook the 'civilized' tribes, especially at his size; and he had no desire to cause a panic.

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

Death, but with a gun



Lordorim Shambastik

Sitting comfortably in the cart Lordorim took in the expanse of the land before him. The seemingly lifeless town, the barely active village and the darkened bulk of the estate of their interest were points enough to give Lordorim the sense that they were truely out in the boonies now.

But it was the sight of the great and imposing castle upon the hill that caused the Dragonborn to frown, he leaned over to the other passenger in the cart, Noroco . "You know, I never did see the attachment these kinds of places have to big and imposing spires and intricate crenellations on castles. They look very aesthetically pleasing I am sure but they are terrible for sieges, they're a bugger for catching catapult and trebuchet shots and fancy fretwork just makes it easier to get grapnels and siege ladders attached." His mouth pursed, resting on his hand as he considered the uninviting landscape in front of him. He tried to recall if perhaps one of the few lessons of history he had deigned to attend in his previous years ever covered the country, after all it would seem highly unlikely that an entire geographical location within the heart of the main continent would have absolutely nothing known about it outside of hearsay and rumour, surely?

Lordorim attempts to make a Knowledge (History) check to see if he can recall anything of note and/or worth about Barovia; local customs, recent history, main imports and exports, anything to give him an idea of the place they are going to be remaining in for the next week or so.

1d20+4 = 20


"Do you know anything of this dreary locale Sir Noroco?"

TheNabster fucked around with this message at Jun 16, 2018 around 18:39

professor_curly
Mar 4, 2016

There he is!


Noroco "Roc" Olvir
The Shadow-Sorcerer

He laughs with cheer at odds with the surrounds at the final question from his fellow passenger, "Not a sir, not yet at least. Actually my familiar is from this area. I'm from a cadet branch of a noble family here. We left to find fortune elsewhere, which we did after a fashion, but the stories are still passed down..."

Noroco smiles wistfully as he looks at the bright blue river, the misty moor enshrouding the land with enchanting mystery, muttering softly, "It's beautiful here."

He shakes his head after a moment with a small chuckle, "Forgive me, I lose focus. Unfortunately I don't know if my family history will be terribly helpful. It has been a long, long time. To be honest it was all just stories to me, a grandmother relating tales of her grandmother, you know the style of thing. Until one day, a mysterious messenger arrives at camp and hands me this.[/b]"

He reaches into his waist sash and pulls a very fine looking letter, unfurling it and handing it over to Lordorim. It is very strangely written, very formal and regal in a style that isn't quite modern that describes an unfortunate tragedy in the Old Family, leaving Noroco as the next living candidate as Earl of a small township called Berez in the family heartlands conditional on prompt arrival to fulfill the terms of inheritance, which were cryptically left unstated.

"Now, I'm a skeptical man. But I admit I was intrigued, so when I heard the call for an expedition here, why not? If nothing else I'll have a story for the family when I go back to Cormyr. And if it is true, maybe I'll just retire. Find one of these gaudy castles. Maybe hire you lot to be my advisers or whatever it is nobles have."

Quorum
Sep 24, 2014

REMIND ME AGAIN HOW THE LITTLE HORSE-SHAPED ONES MOVE?

Sergeant deWytte

As the village and its attendant castle come into view, the Sergeant relaxes slightly, tension she's been holding in her shoulders since the body on the road fading away, and the pace of her staff thumping on the ground increases its tempo. Paying little mind to the conversation in the cart behind her, she pretends to give Skinny's question some thought, then nods gruffly. "Tavern first, I'd say. It's been a drat long stretch on the road, I could use a drink, and hopefully there'll be someone there who can advise us on body disposal. Not usually a good idea to cart dead bodies up to high officials without asking first, I've found." She raises her voice so those in the cart can clearly hear her, cutting through conversations with the ease of long practice. "Tavern first, then burgomaster. We promised we'd make Mokrul some friends, after all."

Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


History: In one of your history lessons Barovia had indeed been brought up. Several Hundred years ago the Strahd family fought a great battle against a host of enemies in Barovia and won. The supposed glory of the region and the vitory there inspired the Strahds to take up permenant residence here. In the years after it became something of a backwater and did little of note as far as you can remember. You do recall however that a group of semi-nomadic peoples called the Vistani live here. They travel the world offering service from silver-smithing to fortune telling, and you encountered more than a few passing through your realm from time to time, occasionally putting on shows or selling their wares.

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage



Brother Sorin of the Ruby Rose

Sorin smiles at that, a hint of relief on his face as the signs of civilization become more and more evident. He says, "I'd not say no to something to cut through the dust! And, indeed, hopefully we can get some information on the lay of the land." On the trip from where they found the body, he's spent much of his time scrubbing off the mud and assorted fluids that might have dirtied his armor. There's certainly something to be said for embodying the virtues of the Lady even on the road. It'd surely impress the Burgomaster and, hopefully, ease relations with the fine folk of Barovia. He looks over at Roc, adding, "Hah! If you end up with a castle, you'll have to treat us all to a proper feast."

professor_curly
Mar 4, 2016

There he is!


Noroco "Roc" Olvir
The Shadow-Sorcerer

He laughs with Sorin, "And a feast for the ages it will be!"

Then Noroco notices the cleric cleaning his armor and decides to wave a hand with a small incantation, scrubbing Sorin's finery and armor with magical precision, "There you are lover-boy, I'm sure the peasant girls will be well impressed. Try not to make your Lady too proud."

Noroco gives the cleric a good natured wink before using his magic to clean his own clothing and items, offering to do the same for the other mercenaries if they wished. He straightens his armor and let his shield rest on its strap over his back, emblazoned with the Golden Lion, before heading into the tavern.

Using Prestidigitation to clean up our paladin/whoever else wants it, then going in.

professor_curly fucked around with this message at Jun 15, 2018 around 01:55

Waador
Sep 11, 2001

Smashin' down the light.

Pillbug

Mokrul Verdant Allweather > 8 / 8 HP / 13 AC

He imagined they were certain to make a great impression with the locals, rolling into town road-weary as they were, and bearing the glad tidings of the corpse of what he could only assume was a local villager.

He spent a moment considering the view of the landscape as they began their descent into the settlement. Two clashing narratives had been developing since they arrived, and he couldn't quite tell how they matched up or when and where they parted ways. This was clearly a land of some means, given the massive iron gates and complex stonework they had encountered on the road, and he could see what seemed to be a well-enough maintained stone bridge cutting across the river to the west. In the distance, the massive castle looming over the village also spoke to a certain degree of economic esteem. That was the issue, though, wasn't it? There were all the signs of the fruits of economic success, but none of its tracks in the sand. There was little activity to be seen in the town on their approach, no other carts visible on the roads, and few farmsteads surrounding the village proper.

He found himself reminded of the headless statues flanking the gates up the road, and it began to make sense: these were the signs of a society that had seen better times. He wondered, upon what cornerstone was the economy of Barovia built? There was no shortage of forest nearby, to be sure, which suggested a healthy opportunity for the lumber trade. And yet, he hadn't seen any telltale signs of logging activities on their journey. Perhaps the wolves howling in the distance on their approach were a clue on that subject? It was a curious situation, to be sure, and one he looked forward to understanding a bit better.

At least the demeanor of his companions was improving. The mere sight of civilization, frayed around the edges as it might be to his developing awareness, had seemingly rekindled their spirits. He rather suspected a hearth to sit near and a warm meal would double their mood once over.

Sergeant deWytte posted:

"Tavern first, then burgomaster. We promised we'd make Mokrul some friends, after all."
The Sergeant seemed to realize much the same, which further endeared her to Mokrul. With a wry smile, he comments, "Yes, I rather imagine we'll make many lifelong friends in this beautiful, welcoming land. If we're lucky, perhaps we can even adopt a pack of wolves?" With nearly three weeks on the road together under their belt, he imagined his companions were starting to realize the truth of his social interactions: they were built upon a cornerstone of his own invention, the 'double sarcasm method', meaning the perpetrator delves so deep into sarcasm that nobody knows whether or not they are being serious or if they are trying to crack a joke.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Passive: Perception (16) / Investigation (16) / Insight (14) / Darkvision (60')
Effects: Inspiration / Concentration (chickens) / Stealth
Resources:: Hit Dice (1/1d8) / Arrow (20)
Livestock: Chickens (12) / Chicken Feed (100 pounds)
Map / Journal
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


The travel to the town is uneventful if bumpy as the muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestones. From behind curtains and boarded windows eyes peer out at your band from the village dwellings. The few people wandering the streets give you a wide berth. No sound cuts the silence except for mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance.

Finally, upon reaching the centre of the town, you see signs of life. To the north (E2) is a large tavern, light and voices spilling out into the gloomy street from its open door. A broken sign proclaiming it to be the 'Blood of the Vine' tavern hangs precariously above the door.

To the south a squat dark building has a lamp lit in front, showing a sign that reads 'Bildrath’s Mercantile' (E1).

Farther north in the city you can see what appears to be a church atop a small hill, and to the south a large house sits at the end of the street. North-east of the town you can see the large manor you saw from the woods earlier.

-------

Roll 20 map has been updated to the village!

Ovo fucked around with this message at Jun 15, 2018 around 08:04

Tricky
Jun 12, 2007

after a great meal i like to lie on the ground and feel like garbage



Brother Sorin of the Ruby Rose

Sorin laughs at Roc's jibes, saying, "But of course! I'll be sure to leave a few for you, your lordship." He gestures to the warmth and light emanating from the tavern, adding, "Blood of the vine, they say! It's been quite some time since I've had wine worth speaking of."

Sorin sheathes and pockets his fine dagger and hoists the emblazoned shield against his back before he makes his way into the tavern.

Ovo
Dec 20, 2008

Life Rules


The converation in the tavern dies immediatly upon Sorins entrance. Staring up at him are the rather suprised faces of some patrons, farmhands and laborors from the looks of them. Three women in more garish red and green outfits sit lazily at a table near the door. They glace at Sorin and eye him up for a moment, before turning back to their own conversation. As though now allowed, the rest of the tavern goes back to their drinks, food and conversation as well.

Behind the bar a large stocky man nods at Sorin, before picking up a glass and cleaning it. The tavern itself is fairly large with enough seating for at least 30 or more patrons, though only about 10 are in here today. The walls are adorned with 3 stuffed wolf heads, and nothing else.

Waador
Sep 11, 2001

Smashin' down the light.

Pillbug

Mokrul Verdant Allweather > 8 / 8 HP / 13 AC

Their journey into and through the village was informative, if nothing else. Villagers 'stealthily' peering out from behind curtains was to be expected, but boarded-up windows weren't exactly a fashion choice. The echoes of sobbing drifting about the city streets were also ...interesting. The center of town wasn't much better. The ramshackle state of the tavern's sign might as well have been the state flower, based on what he'd seen so far today. Signs of life were a plus, at least.

As Sorin enters the tavern, Mokrul follows behind him. He was content to let someone else do the talking, as it freed him up to read the room.
>> Perception 21 >> Eavesdropping on conversations in the bar.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Passive: Perception (16) / Investigation (16) / Insight (14) / Darkvision (60')
Effects: Inspiration / Concentration (eavesdropping) / Stealth
Resources:: Hit Dice (1/1d8) / Arrow (20)
Livestock: Chickens (12) / Chicken Feed (100 pounds)
Map / Journal
__________________________________________________________________________________________

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Wahad
May 19, 2011



Everything by design.


"Skinny" Erevan

The Firbolg eyes the tavern warily. "Perhaps it is best if I stay outside. Somebody has to keep an eye on the cart." Left unsaid was that part of him wasn't sure if he'd even have space to walk about unimpeded in the tavern, and a suspicion that a bump of his head in the wrong spot on the ceiling might bring the whole ramshackle building down. "But I'll take some ale." As a general rule, Firbolgs do not really drink. Their preferred method of intoxication comes from psychoactive plants, and is only used in special cases. But staying with the Golden Lions had given him an appreciation for booze nonetheless. It is the way of the mercenary, he supposed, and the social bonding involved in drinking together had helped him integrate into the company.

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