The Crusade Against the Shade [IC] (GROUP 1)

[Regord_Silentflame]

Welcome brave adventurers to The Crusade Against the Shade. The fate of the world Rests on your valiant shoulders, good luck!

You are: Group 1

You are currently in: Area around Ersgal, in Sarondia

You were last in: Nothingness

Your Destination is: Unknown

Your Current Task: Survive Undead.

Battle Grid

22 Vingsturr
16 Enemies
14 Enemies
9 Enemies
8 Robilard
6 Simon
6 Cyreon
4 Plumm
http://i283.photobucket.com/albums/kk320/Janus122001/DnD%20Maps/OnlineMap1.jpg


World Map (as you know it)

Coming soon!

[Regord_Silentflame]

The flat plains is disrupted by a small bump. Hardly even a city, Ersgal sits in the middle of a couple of roads, seemingly only standing because no-one has bothered with it. With only a couple score buildings at it's center, surrounded a few miles off by farmland and farmhouses. With the Beautiful Ironbark forest only a couple day's walk to the north, and the peaks of the Stonespine mountains to the west, it's a wonder why anyone would bother coming here.

Ersgal is a large town, population roughly 500 people, mostly human with some elf, and a few dwarves. Most people live in the surrounding countryside.. The Patron Diety is Corellon.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Wand'rin' the wastes
Makin' do without no hastes
Oh lonely road
Oh heavy load
The path goes ever on
Beyond the twilight, towards the dawn...
Tu-du-du-ru-du
Ru-duuuu-turududu..."

A deep, loud voice bellows out the song Wastewalker with off-key tunes. Losing his patience at his own ineptitude, the voice pauses and goes back to the nonsense lyrics at the end.

Every so often, the sunlight would catch and glint on a small hammer spinning into the air. Emerging from the tall grass, a dwarf clad in helm and wrought-iron breastplate walks out into the open, still singing, still tossing and catching the throwing hammer.

Though seemingly nonchalant, there is nothing soft about the dwarven warrior's dark-eyed gaze as he looks about, alert for any threats. A worn and battered steel shield with the heraldry of a winged hammer across a field of olive hue is strapped to his left arm. The haft of an axe protrudes from behind him and a sturdy warhammer is thrust through his thick belt.

Reaching the edge of the town, the wandering warrior yells out a greeting and the traditional forms of the request to enter "HALLO THERE! What ho, the township! I come in peace with no ill-will towards thee and thine! I hereby request leave to enter your domain!"


Initiative, just in case: [roll0]
Spot [roll1]
Listen [roll2]
Sense Motive [roll3]

[JupiterJazz]

Mamba stepped up to the town entrance, the first thought that crossed his mind was restocking on traveling supplies. He placed his hand upon his chin gazing at the small town sizing the place up, until he noticed his traveling companion was no where next to him. He quickly turned about a quick expression of worry crossing his face until he spotted the young druid several paces behind. "Master Cyreon, do try to keep up. Our task is of grave importance we'll only be staying here long enough to refill on necessaries." he says rather loudly as he waits for his young companion.

[Miraqariftsky]

Overhearing a fellow traveller at the gates of the border town, the black-bearded dwarf tosses his hammer one last time then, upon catching it, flourishes the light weapon before thrusting it through his belt.

Holding out one bronzed palm towards the other man outside the town's gates, he greets them cordially. "Hail and well met, fellow pilgrims! Moradin's grace be o' ye! Vingsturr the Hurler, I be hight. If bold I be, what brings ye hither? I am but a humble warrior wand'rin' th' wastes o'th' world--- mayhap I could keep ye company, be a strong arm in time of trouble, whatsay ye?"

[JupiterJazz]

Mamba acknowledges the friendly Dwarf with a quick nod, "Well met indeed." He says coyly, "The nature of our mission is quite dangerous indeed, and it is a bold and noble offer from you master Dwarf. I am known as Copper Mamba, or just Mamba. Indeed this one needs all the protection he can get, but we can not trust one such as yourself for our cause. I mean, not unless you're partial to persuading us with some fine spirits as we get acquainted."

He continues sizing up the Dwarf in front of him trying to figure out his true motives.


Sense Motive:[roll0]

OOC: Edited grammar.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Rrrrriiiiiigghht..." Vinngsturr drawls and rolls his black, beady eyes.

One gloved hand darts into a pouch, whips out a freshly minted golden coin with the sign of a hammer on one side and an anvil on the other. He flips it, catches it as it falls then flicks it at Mamba. "More where that came from... master Mamba. Aye, I can afford yer revelries, but tempt me not"

Smiling slightly, or rather, grimacing, Vingsturr continues, "I can be yer guardsman, I can even pay yer tab, but I shall not drink wi' ye. Me gran'pappy made me swear on blood and anvil to never drink a drop o' liquor nor smoke a wad o' pipeweed until I finds the Swifthammer, me fam'ly's lost heirloom... So, whatsay ye, fellow pilgrim?"

Damned blazes! I who offer me services be th'one ta pay stuff? BAH! What has the overworld come to in that brief time that I fought in the War of the Blackfells?, runs the Hurler's grumbling, but he does not say it aloud.

[JupiterJazz]

"A dwarf that doesn't get plastered at every chance is an odd commodity indeed. One that doesn't drink at all, well I've never heard of such in my life." He says in matter-of-factly tone, catching the gold piece between his index and thumb, "Well then if your hell bent on not getting wasted with me I'm afraid we'll just have to get to know each other on the road." Damn, there goes the bar brawl. More importantly, can you even trust a Dwarf that doesn't drink? Must be some beast wearing a dwarves skin, he intones.

He tosses the shiney back at the dwarf, "I have no qualms with you accompanying us for now Master Dwarf. If my companion agrees then there shall be no problems."

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

If the wind was a bit stiffer or the sun a bit lower, the gathering warriors outside of town might never have noticed the commotion in the grass.

It wasn't that Plumm was trying to be stealthy. Stealth is not his strong suit. But a gnome is easily lost among tall grasses, and the height of a dog adds little to his stature.

So as Vinngsturr and Mamba size each other up, a sort of excited howl can be heard over the plains. Should they look, they see a tiny brown-skinned man with white hair standing head-and-shoulder above the grass, whipping across the plain at breakneck speed. He has a drawn bow but he doesn't aim anywhere near them; his eyes are fixed on something down on the ground as he hollers.

"Yes Gruffix! Faster boy!" Twang! - he shoots, but draws again. "Snap it up boy, for the love of the gods, you'll take dinner back to heaven and have all the hounds jealous!" Twang! "Faster boy! Where did you learn to run, herding dead bricks in a quicksand pool? Onward!" Twang! "Yes! Yes, get i--WHOOAAA!"

A giant hare darts across the dirt road just ahead of the gnome. As the gnome bursts out of the grass, his mount can be seen - an all-white, long-haired sheepdog quite a bit larger than most. The gnome is standing on his back shooting, and as the hound leaps over the road it sends the little man flying through the air. He lands with a crash as his dog disappears into the grass and keeps going.

"Ahhh..." he moans. "Hmmm." He looks up at the trio down the way and gives a wave. "Any of you from the town council there?" he yells. "Hell of a pothole you've got here! Should really fill this in!"

OOC:
I'm not going to try to find one more way to describe an Asian without using the word "Asian". This gnome would fit in among the children of Mongolia, eastern Russia or northern China. He has a youthful face, and his shock-white hair does not appear to be a product of age. He wears lamellar armour in layered patterns of bright green and deep grey. A gold crescent adorns his helmet.

[Miraqariftsky]

"I take umbrage, lad" Vingsturr says quietly, his breathing coming in quick huffs. "I used ta drink an' smoke as me kinsmen be wont ta do. Used ta do..."

Suddenly he bares a set of teeth--- mostly unblemished when compared with the chompers of his kin--- in something close to a snarl. Drawing himself to his full proud height, he declares, "Ye ma' never've met a son o' Moradin wot don't drink nor smoke no more, but such is I indeed. Me grandsire made me swear me Blood Oath upon his deathbed and I never break me word--- all the less do ah break it when 'tis sworn to a dying anc'stor!"

Meeting Mamba's gaze and locking them with his dark eyes, the son of Swifthammer takes back his coin, spits on the anvil-engraved side then drops it to the ground. "May the gold tak' witness! Ah break not mah word ta me grandsire..."

Then he winks at his newfound companion and continues, "Besides, me hammer's aim ain't all that good when... as ye say, 'plastered'. Aye, many good things I've learned of abstinencing, though if ye be bent on the bar, who am I ta stop ya?"

Drawing his light hammer, Vingsturr turns to look at the gates of the town, whistling while waiting for some response from the guards above. Resigned to waiting, he continues the conversation with Mamba, "Aye, then... ye know that ah mak' me livin' offa bein' a guard and that I've sworn a Blood Oath ta find me fam'ly's lost hammer... what then of ye? What brings ye ta these 'ere parts?"

Suddenly, as the bowshots and shouting rend the air, Vingsturr heaves up his shield and readies his hammer only to relax when he sees that the commotion was only caused by a wandering hunter and his dog. "Ho there! Nay, we be not councilmen... just fellow pilgrims on the neverending road... Hight be he Mamba an' meself be called Vingsturr. Well met, hunter and what hight be ye?"

[JupiterJazz]

Not in his stern gaze from the eye-to-eye confrontation with the dwarf, his posture relaxes a bit, his doubt in the dwarf almost completely squashed. "Honorable, indeed." He almost whispers, not quite knowing what to make of the odd custom. His chest puffs out, seemingly gathering a hawker from deep down his cheeks filling up. He spits harshly on the coin, almost matching his resolve with the dwarfs'.

"Well then let it be known I, Mamba, or rather in my birth name Shadi have witnessed that you keep to your resolve and your blood oath has not been compromised." He says with confidence, but a little shake in his voice makes it obvious he's not sure if the act would be taken as good hearted as it was.

"Honestly friend my intent was not ta get drunk, but I was planning on starting a bar fight, I wanted to test your mettle, and I was looking for a little fun while doing it." He shifts the weight on his feet a little still unsure how the dwarf would act to this new bit of information as well. "As for myself, I'm traveling with this young human here, a child with a gift whether he admits it or not. I had lived my life without purpose for the past five or so decades until I stumbled upon him and his fellow kin. He is destined to save our lands, from something far greater then I, or most can comprehend. However it's not something we should sit about conversating openly in front of the gates of some backwoods town."

Suddenly aware that that the dwarf has averted his attention to something else he turns his face and quickly catches site of the small gnome barely poking head-height above the grasslands. His face taking on a doubting expression, until he notice the gnome tumble face first into the travel worn road. He barely suppresses an amused smile.

[Another_Poet]

Hight be he Mamba an' meself be called Vingsturr. Well met, hunter and what hight be ye?"[/COLOR]

"Height this, height that," mutters the gnome as he approaches the three strangers, dusting off his hands as he goes. "Three-foot-two-and-a-half, not that it's any of your business, and you're hardly bigger yourself Mister Dwarf. Honestly, as bad as most humans, hmm."

His demeanor quickly changes, however, and he smiles at the group. "I'm Plumm. Just a traveling lance who serves the gods as best he can. This is Gruffix..." He looks around. "Gruffix! Here boy!"

The sheepdog bounds out of the tall grass, no sign of the hare, and leaps onto Plumm, knocking him over and licking his face vigorously. "Ahh! Ah, O yuck, Gruff! Gruffy! Gruffix! Get off!" He pushes the dog to one side and manages to stand up again. "This is Gruffix, who is supposed to be a good and faithful steed!"

The gnome looks up at the gate. "What're we, locked out?"

[Miraqariftsky]

"Ach, my deepest 'pologies, good me laird, Sir Plumm", says the son of Swifthammer over so deep a bow that his beard brushes the dust of the ground. "Aye, ah beg yer deepest pardon fer though I'd'a been a wand'rer o'th' overlands fer many years now, me tongue still cleaves ta th'words o'me fathers o' stone. The word 'hight'--- wi'oot tha "e", mind ye--- be the old tongues' way o' sayin' "be named..." or "be called..." or "be known as so-and-so..."

"Aye, 'locked out', seems like it..." he continues, all the while with his right hand stroking his beard. "Wot Master Mamba says thar be true, aye. Doubtless ye, a wand'rin' warrior like meself do well know that the world be a dang'rous place. Ah won' blame them townfolk fer bein' careful... these be troubled times..."

"Speak'n' o' troubled times..." Vingsturr says as he turns to Mamba-Shadi's young charge, regarding him with a thoughtful gaze. "An' young fella... ye kno' how ta wield blade an' targe, praytell?"

Once again locking gazes with Mamba, the dwarf slips his hand behind his back and nicks his palm on the exposed blade of his waraxe. "Test me mettle, will ye? The eternal road shall give us our challenges--- of that I have no doubt..."

The deed done, he extends his hairy right arm for him to clasp and says, "...unless yer fain ta drink some bloodwine--- THAT'S tha one liquor me granpappy didn't mak' me swear off... Unite us i' purpose, then. We shall defend yer lad come hells or high water and may the Devourer so take us if we fail in this sacred duty"

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon calmly returns to the road to catch up with Mamba. The young man seems inconspicious with his lean figure boyish facial features, covered by a thick brown beard. His only clothing is a wide gray robe that might have been colored ages ago. Long thorns pin the cloth around his torso to make it form-fitting. When he leaves the tall grass, a leopard emerges next to him making slow steps to stay closely at his side. Cyreon smiles mildly as he approaches Mamba. We have talked about that one, Mamba. If something is only available for you only in a settlement, you might want to strife for it not to become a necessity. You can just go ahead, though. Cali and I will meet you in the city as soon as we find a trail for her to pursue later.

He turns to the others, slightly bowing to them. My apologies for being rude, not to introduce myself right away. My name is Cyreon and my feline companion can be addressed as Cali. I see that you already have met our friend Mamba. We are accompanying him on his journeys to preserve the beauty that the world still has.

[JupiterJazz]

Mamba, eyes widen quite surprised the dwarf has made such an astonishing offer with an elf so quickly. He hesitates for a second not knowing what to make of it before kneeling down and drawing his bone-handled skinning knife from his ankle sheath. He makes a quick slice along his palm, wipes the blade clean in the grass, and sheaths it back in it's rest. Standing just as quickly, he extends his hand out meeting the dwarfs' clasp. "Well met, indeed." He repeats from the beginning of their encounter.

Pausing a few seconds before releasing his firm grasp and waiting for the dwarf to do the same. Now shall we figure out how to get into this small town, I am terribly low on rations. And would like to stop bothering my companion to keep sustaining me with food. He slams his fist into the gates rather harshly hoping to make a racket loud enough to get the guards attention.

OOC: And the young lad is Silkenfists character, 26 in human years so not really a child, Shadi just calls him such sometimes because of the time difference between elves and humans. Not sure when he'll be around so he's still got to open with an enterance that's why I left him several paces behind. So he wasn't forced into anything.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm startles at the bow from the dwarf. "No sir here!" he exclaims, wide-eyed. "I know I'm good-looking but I don't deserve all that." He helps the dwarf up with a smile.

After the round of introductions, and after putting himself between Cali and a growling Gruffix just in case, he looks up at the wall again. "Ho the township!" he hollers, mimicking Vinngsturr's earlier words in his boyish voice. "Slump a little, have a seat, and kick the shoes off your feet! A fighting gnome protects you this night!" He swings into his saddle, giving Cyreon a wink as he mutters, "I sure hope there's not a plague on," and claps his tiny feet to the dog's sides.

With a laugh and a bellow, gnome and dog charge the gate. Plum keeps his lance holstered harmlessly beside his saddle, bearing no aggression as he storms the town. With a woof and a bound, Gruffix carries them over the top...

[roll0] ((Has 8' reach, will climb to scramble over the top if he can't jump the whole way))
[roll1]

[Miraqariftsky]

"Cyreon, eh?" Vingsturr says, still stroking his beard. "Ye know, lad, methinks ah saw reckernize ye..."

Snapping his fingers, he continues, "Ah yes! Me nuncle Kherron, a-ways some threescore years back, when he himself be a wand'rin' warrior here o'th' overworld, he saw a lad just like ye i'th' Wyverns' Wastes, far a-west o' here... Aye, tha way he told tha tale--- grey robes an' thorns, no big cat though--- ye look tha spittin' image of ol' Amur Tabr the Wastewalker! know ye of him, praytell?"

Suddenly, Plumm and Gruffix leap over the town's gates, leaving Vingsturr literally slack-jawed in shock. "GACK!"When he finally overcomes his sheer surprise, he swears stutteringly, "By the hoary hammer of Hurrdgunfreudth! He leaped the bloody... bloody... bloody..."

[MountainKing]

As the gnome charges the gate of the town, he notices a young man seated with his back to a wall, the shambled remains of a lute displayed across his lap... no, not displayed. The young man is gamely attempting to piece together the instrument, obviously deep in concentration. You cannot see his eyes, due to his wide brimmed hat, but the set of his jaw betrays his sheer focus. Regardless of whether you pay him any heed or not, he suddenly begins to sing.

"Through hill and vale / I bring the tale / of wanderer's eeeeever lusting! For gold and ale / their heart and hale / brings them e'er to danger's dooooooooor!"

Just then, the young man stops his singing, to pluck experimentally at the strings on what could barely be called a lute anymore; the result was a resounding cracktwang as what little strength remained in the strings snapped what little resolve the lute had to stay pieced together. With a sigh, the young man resumed his labor...

[Miraqariftsky]

"Hullo?" Vingsturr mutters, then asks around, "Ho there fellows, didje hear a sorta twang somewhere hereaboots?"

[Regord_Silentflame]

Impressive roll Plumm, if I read your post correctly you have just barely cleared the gate with your mount as well, seeing as the gate is only 6' tall.

As Plumm leaps over the gate, his path is headed straight for an completely bewildered man who leaps out of the way just in time.

"In all my life and that of me grandpappy, I've never heard of a dwarf who's left the embrace of our solid earth to soar through the skies." He remarks, getting back to his feet and brushing the dirt from his now rust-colored shirt. He turned to face Plumm "rather skinny for a dwarf, but I suppose that explains your hastiness. Do you have any earthbound companions, or can I return home"

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon looks at Plumm's charge towards the wall with appreciation. Quite an impressive bond, he has formed with his steed there, don't you agree? He reaches down to stroke Cali's fur and begins to speak in a strange, gibberish language of seemingly unrelated gutturals: Cali, dear. Can you climb the wall over there, walk a few paces, then come back down to me?

He clears his throat before addressing Vingsturr again in a normal voice. I yet have to reach threescore years in age, so this man could not have been me. I yet have not heard about him and it would be my pleasure to know more about this Amur Tabr, you are speaking of. But let's look for the singer first. It seems to me like this settlement is being the goal for many a wanderer these days.


I can take 10 to push Cali and I think that should suffice for the task. Also, Cali can take 10 to climb normal DC20 stonework, so that part should work, too.

[Another_Poet]

((Am I to understand that the bard is INSIDE the town, or leaning against the wall OUTSIDE the town?))

Plumm leans into Gruffix's back, steering the dog away from the startled man. He unbars the gate with a flick of his hooked hammer. "There's good men outside who need a drink!" he bellows, and Gruffix pushes the gate open with his two front paws.

Dismounting, he pulls a bottle of wine from his pack, pulls the cork from the top and takes a swig. "And inside too, I imagine," he adds, handing the open bottle to the dusty gatekeeper. "I'm no dwarf, but I drink like one. Whereas the dwarf outside doesn't drink at all. So I wonderif you could direct us to an inn that serves both spirits and tea?"

[Regord_Silentflame]

The gatekeeper grabs the offered bottle, taking a quick swig and returning in to Plumm.

"Makes no difference to me whether you're dwarf or not." he says, watching the gnome take his job.

OOC: I'll post this now so I don't hold you up. The gatekeeper, barring any interruption, will state this next part when he has everyone's attention.
"You and your companions may find nourishment at the 'Shut-eye' inn, it's just down the main road, it's the largest building in town, you can't miss it" he says lazily, moving aside and waiting for the band of travelers to enter, so he can close the gate.


Cyreon, your cat makes it up fine and he sees/hears everything taking part between the gnome and the gatekeeper.

For everyone who sees in the city, and for when they go in the city if they don't know. The place is very simple, small one-story buildings littered around. From inside you can see all the way to all the other four sides of the gate, the town only being 1,000 feet or so across. You can see one large building, and one other building that's 2 stories tall. Other than that, everything looks uninteresting, and poor. Other than the gatekeeper, there's no-one you can see.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm will pass the wine around among all who have a thirst, then cork up what's left and stow it away again.

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon waits for his companion to return to him before he enters. Good girl. But they've let us in already. Let's have a look into it. He follows Plumm, politely declining the offered bottle while talking to the Gatekeeper.
Sir, If you allow my humble question: Why do you hassle yourselves with a gate to enter the city? These lands didn't occur to me as requiring such form of protection?

[JupiterJazz]

Mamba stands back as he realizes what the hell just happened, "Well that's one way to get in." He pauses for a moment before addressing Cyreon, "Yes, yes, I remember well our conversations in the past, but it is much quicker if we just stock up on vitals instead of one of us going hunting whenever food is required. We must continue our quest with haste."

He walks slowly into town before turning to the others, "I'll meet up with you at the tavern." He says before turning about and heading off into town in search of some kind of market.

(OOC: If he finds what he is looking for he purchases 10 days trail rations. 5 gp normally so I took that off my sheet.)

[MountainKing]

OOC: Robilard was sitting with his back to the wall, outside the wall.

Robilard glanced up at the sky, a sigh lifting from his lips as the bard surrendered the sundered instrument to the ground. Hopping to his feet, the young man stretched his legs and smiled; it wasn't every day you saw one of the little folk make such a bold entrance. Perhaps these folk would make interesting travel companions. Resolving to follow them, but not so close as to be rude, Robilard dusted off his trousers and entered the town. Upon hearing the gatesman offer a suggestion for food and lodging, he decided to head there, and see what he could see.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Hold up, sorrah!" Vingsturr yells as he stumps and clanks over to Cyreon.

Glancing up at the gatekeeper, the son of Swifthammer shouts out both greeting and blessing at him. "May yer beard nev'r burn, may yer anvils nev'r crack!"

Catching up to the druid, the hammer-toting guardsman follows him and takes a position to the left and front of him. Vingsturr holds his shield high to better protect the both of them, all the while keeping his throwing hammer ready to hurl.

[Regord_Silentflame]

"Odd that you should mention that. Last week when I gave an order to Horace, the furnace blew open, and singed it off" he said, scratching at his bare chin.

"You don't know about the gates? you all must be from very far north. The gates aren't tall enough to keep any invading army out, but they do wonders to keep out the mindless horde."

[Miraqariftsky]

"Well..." Vingsturr says, a bit taken aback with the gatekeeper's pronouncement. "'Tis just a sayin' o' good luck where I come from... but 'pparently ye've had a spate o' ill fortune. Bad, bad omen, 'tis, the burning of a beard..."

Touching his helm and lowering his head respectfully, the son of Swifthammer says solemnly, "My condolences fer yer loss, gatekeeper"

Juggling his hammer again, Vingsturr replies to the gatekeeper. "Aye, north indeed... north indeed i' halls o' stone 'neath th' world's mould... What be this' ere 'mindless 'orde' ye speak o'? Enlighten us poor pilgrims, I pray ye, good sir..."

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon looks at the Gatekeeper and takes a mental note to keep his beard away from open flames. My... condolescences as well. But at least you can take solace in the idea that you didn't lose something that won't regrow in a while. Now concerning this mindless horde, you mentioned... we didn' encounter them on our passage but the name hardly suggests enjoyable company. If I may ask, how much need we worry about them when we continue our journey?

[Regord_Silentflame]

"Oh yes, the notde-no, the undead! that's it. I do not know how far north you humble folks have come, but our lands are plagued by hordes of the horrid things. It doesn't hinder our lives, but every month or two we all have to hide inside these gates while the dumb things wander about."

[Miraqariftsky]

"Ho then!" Vingsturr says, his eyes brightening at the prospect of battle. "If'n them beasties come 'nytime Ah'm aboot, ye can be sure some o' them'll be deader'n dead, come the dawn! But then, them walkin' corpses allus got some sorta magicks a-drivin' em... some dark curse or unfulfilled purpose or other... Whattaye reckens, sir?"

[Silkenfist]

Unfulfilled purpose? That's a childhood story I don't believe in. Cyreon clenches his fist around the gnarled walking staff. For the first time since they have met, strong emotion could be sensed in his voice. Dead bodies don't just walk around because their past inhabitant left the world without saying goodbye. These abominations are created by man-made magic, a foul disgrace for the souls to whom belonged the bodies once. For a moment, Cyreon glares at the Gatekeeper, then looks away. And you have fed up with it, allowing it to continue? Can't blame you, though. Your fine settlement doesn't look like it could put together enough force. But please tell me, some of the larger towns are undergoing efforts to abolish this heinousness.

[Miraqariftsky]

Vingsturr shrugs and hefts his hammer, running a few practice swipes through the noontide air. "Eh, 'dark curse', 'tis, then. I'll beat 'em doon if' I meets 'em and step in wi' me axe an' hew 'em doon if'n they a-bothe' these inn'cents. Hellsteeth'n, Moradin's against them undead, so far be it fr' me not ta leap ta th' fore"

[JupiterJazz]

Mamba finishes his purchase, and starts heading towards the tavern the old man directed them to. To his dismay when he gets there he can't find his group. He goes ahead and pays in advance for a room, and a late meal for him, Cyreon, and Vingsturr, and heads back towards the city gates curiosity motivating him.

As he begins getting closer to the gates he catches site of his campanions still talking with the gatekeeper. Surely that old man couldn't have anything that damn interesting to say. He keeps to himself.

As he comes up on the group he asks, "So what's so interesting here? Weaving tales are we?" his hand stroking his chin as he waits for an answer.

(OOC:How much for the room and food?)

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

Plumm runs his hands through Gruffix's fur as he listens to the man's tale. He seems to have perked up at the mention of the horde, and his eyes gleam with curiosity. As his companions chip in with their opinions Plumm keeps his attention on the gatekeeper.

"I'll be right beside you in the fray, friends, but there will be time for boasting later. Let's hear what this good man knows." He gives the gatekeeper a meaningful look. "Gatekeeper, does anyone know why they come? Have they killed many? Please, enlighten us."

[Regord_Silentflame]

(OOC: Unless I specifically tell you otherwise, everything in the game is standard cost for D&D 3.5 Core rules)

"Well...my answer would be that I do not know, to all of your questions. The undead menace has been around for generations, longer than any any of our residents have lived. They are like a natural disaster, we have a plan to keep us safe, and so no-one really talks about it, even when they come, so I cannot tell you if anyone knows why. As for how many they kill? I cannot say for other villages, but we are usually quick to respond, and even the worst of times have only lost a few men, but more frequently they simply feed on stray livestock
He shook his head, leaning against the wall of a nearby building, looking at you all one by one
"I pray thee brave travelers, your might may be strong, but do not underestimate their numbers, they roam the countryside in groups of 2 score or more, and we do not feel safe to open the gates for at least 2 days."

[MountainKing]

Robilard, having found himself at a small trading post, watched idly as what looked to be... a wild elf? Wood elf? Biting his lip, Robilard pondered a while, thinking for just a moment to see if he could remember which it was...

Bardic Knowledge check: [roll0]

Regardless of what the young man decides, he approached the vendor with a broad smile on his face.

"Greetings, good fellow! My name is Robilard Dunland, and I come to you in search of sustenance for the road ahead, as well as to inquire about the possibility of acquiring perhaps a well made lute. Mine has broken, you see, and I wish to replace it at all possible."

Diplomacy check to improve the NPC's reactions if I may. [roll1]

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

Plumm nods. "Then I pray I am here next time they show up." He turns to his companions. "I trust I'll be able to find you where there is food and drink. It seems auspicious to meet so many strong hearts in one place - I look forward to seeing your faces again soon!"

At that point, Plumm will ride Gruffix about the tiny town at a leisurely pace, seeking any temples or shrines the place has. Any townspeople he sees along the way he will greet politely, and any children brave enough to approach him get a smile and a chance to pet the big dog.

He will spread the word that he will be buying dinner for anyone who wishes to partake, at the Shut-Eye Inn.

He will enter each and every temple he encounters, making a small offering of gold at each one and spending some time in contemplation and prayer. He will treat the clergy with great deference, fully prostrating himself before them. He will also let them know of the dinner he is offering so that they can tell their followers.

((If there is a temple to Fharlanghn or to any evil deities, please let me know - I will treat those a bit differently.))

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

As the travelers gather around the guard, learning of the lifeless menace that has haunted their land for generations, an older man shuffles up the road behind them. His hair is flecked with gray here and there, just starting to turn, and it gives him a dignified look. At least it would, if his nose were not buried in a book the size of small gnome while a pole arm taller than he is thrusts up over his shoulder.

Mumbling to himself while he balances the book in one hand the edge against his breastplate, he jots notes down with the other. Anyone who looks close will notice that he isn't holding a quill, and seems to be simply tracing the notes out on the page with his finger.

He passes through the still open gate and past guard without looking up, heading straight down the main road. He only stops when he nearly trips over a gnome riding a dog.

"Oh my! ...I'm sorry sir. Please excuse me, but I was wrapped up in this most interesting dissertation on the strength of zombies as their organs continue to decay, and at what point they are mere skeletons."

[roll0] to see how well Simon is grasping and remembering the info.

EDIT: Apparently stumbling over a dog-riding gnome knocked his concentraion and short term memory a bit! :smalltongue:

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon forces himself not to glare at the Guard, his voice growing cold nonetheless. Good Sir, I can assure you while the existence of undead is a disaster, there is nothing natural about it. Nothing remotely natural... the hand painfully clenched around the staff, he shakes his head in disbelief how apathetic the people of the south react to such a threat. I think the local clergy might have more information. Could you give me directions to the persons who exercise this profession in your settlement?

[JupiterJazz]

"Undead? What undead? I sure in hell didn't see any on the way here. I doubt something as odd as hundreds upon hundreds of undead minions can just pop the hell out of no where. I think this old man might just be senile. Nothing to get worked up over." He says as he moves towards Cyreon placing a hand on his shoulder. "Besides, we'll probably be long gone before something so ridiculous, and tragic happens anyways. We've got more important things to do young one. So shall we take a vote for getting back on the road tonight?"

DAMNIT! Please, please don't offer to save them. He thinks to himself, but guessing the outcome to be much different then what he hopes for.

[Silkenfist]

If it were just for the undead... Cyreon looks at the gate. I think, the people around here have arranged with the problem. But if there really are undead out there, there must be someone... something that has created them. That's what the actual threat is. We can't allow it to continue this blasphemy to life itself, can't we?

[JupiterJazz]

"I have the feeling we're going to get sidetracked again aren't we? Oi, if you insist then lets get to it. You go find out what you can about these undead at the local temples." He pauses for a moment... "Yes, I'll go check the local taverns for information.

[Regord_Silentflame]

"Oh...well..." He points down the road, and you can see a few buildings that stand out among the others, two of which are more ostentatious than the other The fifth building down the road is the temple to Corellon, the... he counts up on his fingers eighth is to St. Cuthbert. Take your pick..."

[Silkenfist]

Very well then. I shall not continue to hassle you further. Please forgive my harshness on that matter. It was not my intention. Cyreon leaves the gate and walks towards the center of the village, his eyes rolling to belie his previous words. He takes a quick pace to allow Cali to walk close to him comfortably. In these southern regions, some things are different apparently and they don't want to encounter trouble just because some uneducated townspeople become afraid of a peaceful feline. Now on to the temples...Cyreon contemplates the options which is somewhat hampered by the fact that he has never shown much interest in the deities attended to in urban shrines, usually doubting the usefulness of their doctrine. Corellon...he remembers to be some kind of Elven God, while St.Cuthbert is something like a divine judge. While Cyreon personally sympathizes more with Corellon, he decides to pay St.Cuthbert the first visit. If that church really was centered around justice, there might be a possibility they knew about ongoing attempts to repel the plague.

[MountainKing]

After a brief (and cheerful!) discussion with the proprietor, Robilard returned to the streets, a new lute slung across his abdomen and a week's worth of trail rations stowed in his trusty backpack. Fiddling idly with the tune of the instrument as he walked, Robilard finally found himself satisfied, and scanned the street to see if any of the travelers he had seen earlier were still about...

They were! It seemed that some were heading toward various temples in town, whilst others were still conversing with the gatekeeper. Not wanting to cause any particular harsh feelings, Robilard strode up to one, a rather lean looking fellow (and traveling with the elf he'd seen to boot!), and legged a bow.

"Good day, fine sirs! My name is Robilard Dunland, a slayer of goblins and traveling entertainer. I do not wish to trouble you muchly, but I would ask if you intended to take rest this eve here in town; I intend to give a performance or two at an inn, and would dearly like to have travelers such as your fine selves present!"

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon flinches visibly when hearing the 'Slayer of Goblins' part but he tries to stay polite. A pleasure to meet you, Robilard. My name is Cyreon and the companion to my side is Cali. The leopard turns her head slightly upon hearing her common name. To be honest, we are probably not going to stay at the inn. They are usually too crowded to be comfortable for us and the rooms don't quite match our idea of a good bivouac. Nonetheless, we would certainly like to attend your performance. Our elven fellow and we haven't been in these lands yet and we would love to hear what awaits us further on a journey from a seasoned traveller like you.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Indeed..." Vingsturr rumbles, his hammer shouldered.

Eying the lute and the rakish swagger and relishing the rich words that flow from the young man's mouth, Vingsturr comes a quick conclusion of the newcomer's profession. A corner of his lips curls upward in a lopsided smile and he gives Robilard a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Well'n lad... goblinslayer, say ye? Tell'a me more o' yer exploits, an' don' ye dare shirk from yer saga! Beholden shall I be ta thee, I, Vingsturr the eigth son o' Soren Swifthammer, eigth direct descendant o' Vingsturr the Valiant... 'tis long been since a proper bard I've heard with a proper lay..."

[MountainKing]

"Well, Master Dwarf, I am honored by your request and will be happy to oblige!" Within a few strides, Robilard has crossed the remainder of the street, to seat himself atop a barrel. With fingers dancing lightly over the strings, he strums a quick scale to double check his work, before launching into a ditty.

"OOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooh...
The night was cold and lifeless,
We warriors all alone!
With naught at heart to save us,
But the cloaks about our bones!"

The music from the young man's lute slowed then, taking on a dreary, sorrowful sound.

"We few we fought so bravely,
From the walltops t'the floor!
Yet the goblins kept on comin',
All a'poundin' at our door...

The paladin, he fell that night,
To a goblin's lucky spear!
And the wizard took, his final breath,
Goblin arrows, I'm afeared!
The cleric he, did fall that night,
From a club that smashed him hard!
They fought that night,
With heart and hale.
Now only one is left to tell the taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale..."

As Robilard's voice reached a crescendo, (hopefully) a lusty high tenor, the lute began to reverbrate with the sounds of music gaining speed once again.

"They left behind only one,
To remember them fore'er!
The man was a man, a lonely bard!
That man was me, young Robilard!"

As he finished, he hopped off the barrel, and proceeded to return to standing near the travelers, still idly playing, even though he had finished.

"Well, that's just a bit of what I can do, somethin' I made up to pass the time really, it's not very good-" Robilard nodded sagely, "I've heard many better! Now then good sirs, where are you headed? I'd dearly like to give my performance with you fine gentlemen about, after all."

Perform (Sing) check: [roll0]
Perform (Stringed Instruments) check: [roll1]

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon follows the flow of the song although he twitches nervously once or twice at certain passages. Bravo! A... hearty song indeed. I would certainly enjoy to hear more from you tonight. From what I understood earlier, the Shut-Eye is the recommended tavern for travellers. Well, probably the only one, too. I'd be happy to meet you there later but in the meantime I need to meet with the local Clerics for an inquiry or two. He bows slightly to the Bard and nods to the temples further down the road.

[MountainKing]

Robilard brightens.

"The local priests, you say? Well sir, I may not exactly be a scholar, but perhaps I could tag along and lend my assistance! While I may not be quite as scholarly as the holy chaps you're likely to meet, I do know a bit of matters religious and historical, and of course, the tales that echo through the halls of time itself... what say you? It's not even quite evening just yet... a performance can wait," Robilard smiles roguishly and raises an eyebrow, "If there are valorous and goodly deeds afoot."

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

While looking down at the gnome he nearly walked over, his ears pick up the mention of a scholar. Forgetting the poor dog-rider for the moment, he turns to find the person who spoke.

"Pardon me, but did you say you were looking for a local scholar? I was unaware there was one in this...village? Hmm, when did I get to the village...?" Simon looks lost in thought, and just before he is silent so long you feel you should say something, he shakes himself out of it. "I hope you don't mind terribly, but could I accompany you? I'd like to meet this learned man I have yet to hear about."

[Regord_Silentflame]

(OOC: Giving descriptions for the temple of heironeous, and the shut eye inn.
ps: just so you all know, I have your first encounter ready for whenever you feel like winding down)

Temple of St. Cuthbert
One of the only few stone buildings in the town, the stone blocks stained red by constant battering by the dirt around. A large, smooth oaken door with a silver ring, with an inscribed cross is held open, exposing the inside of the building. Very simple there are a few open windows high up the walls, and a long grey carpet along the stone floor, leading up to a couple-stepped dias with a small iron altar. Two closed doors appear on opposite walls, and two men in grey clerical vestments walk around the room.

Shut-Eye Inn
Two shuttered windows face out to the street, on other side of a double-door, stoppered open. Inside there is a bar, the wall behind lined with many-colored bottles, a single man standing, pouring a drink for a man sitting in one of many stools. A dozen round tables are scattered along the room with a few chairs at each table, and a couple of candles lit at each table. there are only a dozen or so people scattered among the room, keeping to themselves. In the back there's a staircase that leads up and out of view.

EDIT: Sorry, I meant St. Cuthbert, not Heironeus!

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon smiles warmly. It would be our honor to enjoy your company but I am afraid it will be hard to find an experienced scholar in a village like this. Nonetheless, I would like to converse with a studied member of this community about certain hindrances on our further way. Specifically, the guard mentioned Undead creations roaming the lands. He shrugs and looks at the others. We figured, the clerics of Heironeus would know most whether it is a threat to regard. Please excuse me if I have caused unnecessary worry about something that might not be much of a concern anyway. Cyreon tries to keep his voice calm and easyminded but the shuffling feet and fingers fiddling one of the thorns in his robe reveal his tension though.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Ach, weel..." says Vingsturr, trying to hide his wincing beneath his huge and beastly beard. "Well, lad... ehm... aye, verra good yer lute-playin' be. A good melody, ye sing, aye, but melody an' string-skill be not all there be ta a good song... Ye needs mer versificating, methinks..."

"Aye, then, comin' along shall ye be?" asks the son of Swifthammer, his namesake weapon spinning from finger to finger. “Yon elf be Mamba, guardian o’ this ‘ere druid lad by the name o’ Cyreon. I be Vingsturrn, son o' Swifthammer, an' th' gnome wi' th' dog be hight Plumm"

Turning to Simon, Vingsturr asks, "An' ye, sirrah, wot hight ye be--- declare yerself if join us, ye shall"

With that, Vingsturr commits himself to the front of the party, keeping the vanguard just in case any threat would suddenly assail them. There, the dwarven warrior stands ready to hurl his hammer at the slightest sign of hostile action from afar but is also prepared to belt away his inheritance in favour of the heavier warhammer or waraxe in case of anything that truly closes in.

[MountainKing]

Robilard winks knowingly.

"I never said you'd find a scholar in this little fish, in a world of leviathans; never fear, master Cyreon, we shall search for this information together!"

Then, as Vingsthurr spoke, Robilard looked pained, as if physically struck upon the cheek.

"Well, master Dwarf, I do apologize. I did say it was just a bit of improvisation, nothing I would actually perform with..." The young bard trailed off a bit, fingers beginning to caress the strings of his lute.

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

Startled, Simon looks at the dwarf. "Declare myself? Oh, you mean introduce myself? Why I am Simon Germonique, a simple scholar and wanderer of the world."

Turning back to Cyreon Simon sighs quietly, "Ahh, the clerics will likely have some knowledge, but I have found them to be surprisingly close-minded and ignorant at times. But I shall accompany you if you don't mind. Perhaps this one will prove enlightening."

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon nods slowly. That might be true, friend Simon. But to be honest: A man with a stubborn and narrow-minded worldview is better than a man with no such view at all. Actually, there are few human traits more despicable than indifference. I will most likely disagree with much of what the clerics will have to say. But at least they actually will have something. Cyreon speaks the last words more to himself than to the others his eyes pointed to the ground and his voice devoid of any accentuation.

[Miraqariftsky]

Vingsturr sighs and hangs his head in shame. "Ach, lad... me 'pologies ta ye. Ah had nae right ta dispar'ge yer work, simple fighter as Ah be"

"Tell ye wot, though..." says the son of Swifthammer as he gives Robilard a friendly punch on the elbow. A human would have placed an arm around the shoulders, or punched a shoulder, but Vingsturr, dwarf as he is, can't reach that high. "Whatsay ye that Ah tell thee tha tales o' me clanhold, unfold ta ye tha Sagas of Sturmsullren an' tha epic Lay of Lorsbrund, eh? Ah be but a wand'rin warrior but 'tid nae stop me frum learnin' tha art o' tellin' tales an' versificaterin'... mayhap ye e'ev peck oop a word o' two o' th' tongue o' me deepdelvin' folk, aye?"

"Whatsay ye ta me boon'd off'r, sar Robilard?" says Vingsturr with a sincere smile on his black-bearded face.

Turning to Simon, he answers, "Weel tha noo, sar Germonique... well met ta ye frum a fella wand'rer. Though... these be dang'rous times... As said tha man, thar be plagues o' horderin' undead aboot... Know ye aught o' blade an' targe ta dafend yersel'?"

[MountainKing]

Upon the offer of music and tales from Dwarven lands, Robilard brightens near instantaneously.

"Why, Master Vingsturr, I would be honored! Truly this is a blessed day, for one such as I to find such a varied band of travelers such as yourselves; I could even learn from Master Copper," he says happily, obviously taking "Copper" as Copper Mamba's first name and "Mamba" for the surname, "What do you say, sir? Why not teach me a thing or two of the elven songs? I already speak your tongue, so it would not be so difficult!"

Even as he speaks, Robilard begins walking toward the temple in question, slightly bumping Cyreon's elbow as he walks, giving the man a silent cue to start walking as well.

Bluff check to conceal the intent of the elbow bump: [roll0]
Bluff check to convey hidden message in the elbow bump: [roll1]

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon nods to the others. If we all are headed south, it might really be a good idea to share each other's company. It makes for safer roads and lighter spirits. Also, it would enable me to hear more of your tales, dear Robilard. He turns to Robilard and walks with him to the St.Cuthbert temple. I am not quite familiar with the etiquette of these temples, though. Is there something, I need to know? Like not bringing certain things in there or addressing the attendants in a special way?

[MountainKing]

"Hmmm, in a small town such as this, I doubt the local priesthood has nearly the reservations about manners and suchnot as the sort you'd find anywhere larger," Robilard mused, "Good manners of course are important anywhere, but so long as we're polite and keep our voices respectful, there shouldn't be any disturbance..." Robilard tapped his chin, idly slinging his lute behind his back.

"Oh! I don't believe that they would be too appreciative if we brought Cali in with us, a fine and noble seeming creature though she... he... it may be?" Robilard stumbles a bit with the lack of certainty that came with his lack of knowledge concerning the hunting cat's gender, but otherwise undeterred, he continued.

"I suspect that, if it is undead we are persuing, perhaps we ought start at a temple to Pelor, if they have one. The god of light despises them as surely as an old baker's wife despises young, free spirited hooligans at her window!"

[Silkenfist]

Cali? The Druid looks genuinely puzzled. Well, of course not. I can't imagine a reason, the clergy wouldn't let in good creatures. I was thinking more about weapons as possible prohibition. At the entrance of the temple, he stops shortly. Pelor, you say? We can keep that in mind for a later part of the journey but unfortunately, we only have St.Cuthbert and Corellon as options.

[Another_Poet]

((At this point Cyreon may notice Gruffix is waiting faithfully outside the temple. He is not tied up, just waiting and spending lots of time and attention on his own butt.))

[MountainKing]

"Well Master Cyreon," Robilard confesses with some embarrassment, "I don't mean to call the manner of pedigree of Cali into question, it's just... well... it's a big cat... the sort that ought remain outdoors..." the realization of just what manner of person he is speaking to suddenly begins to click in Robilard's head, and his eyes widen when the realization that he'd just uttered a rather insulting thing to this person clicks into place shortly after.

"Again, no offense, sir and cat," Robilard says quickly, hands raised to chest level, "It's just, well, townsfolk, cityfolk, they're all fairly similar in that regard. Not everyone thinks animals and creatures and such are the holiest things about, you know? I-I... uh..."

For the first time in his life, Robilard finds himself staring potential oblivion in the face at the hands of a wrathful druid and his fierce animal friend, and as his familiar shield of words begins to crumble in front of him, Robilard's face reddens quickly.

"...please don't have it eat me, sirrah... bards are widely thought to be unhealthy..."

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

"Oh, it's quite true Cyreon. Most folk are quite curious in that regard. Why, they can't tell a panther from a displacer beast, much less when one is peaceful!" Simon laughs quitely, quite oblivious to any insult he may have given. "But I suppose it's hard to blame them, since typically anything outside their walls does want to eat them. Sometimes it makes me wonder how we've lasted so long! Hmm....you know, that could be a very interesting topic...I wonder if there are any papers on it at the university..."

Simon gets quieter, though still clearly talking to himself, as he wanders somewhat in the direction of the local churches, his eyes again distant registering something no one else sees.

[Miraqariftsky]

Vingsturr steps up between Cali and Robilard, confidently placing himself between the quivering bard and the golden-eyed cat. He then says over a pauldroned shoulder while unconsciously twirling his light hammer, "Lad, if'n ye nae wantin' tha cat ta eat ye, don't anger th'bloody cat. Don't look nae cats i'th'r eyes, yep"

[Silkenfist]

Surprised by the Dwarf placing himself in front of her, Cali looks up to her companion, exchanging a puzzled look with him. Cyreon quietly snarls a short sequence of unintelligible noises after which Cali slowly curls up to his feet, looking down the main road indifferently. Meanwhile Cyreon extends a hand to Robilard, calmly placing it on the bard's shoulder.
There is no reason to be ashamed of your words, friend Robilard. In some way, you are certainly right. Cali and her kind are fierce and competent predators. We are well-advised to keep our distance from a hunting Leopard. However... Cyreon adds emphasis to the word only to continue to speak calm immediately afterwards ...humans are by no means less dangerous predators. Numerous of her kind have been hunted down by humans themselves. There is at least as much reason for her to be afraid as there is for you. You have our word that Cali will neither attack nor threaten innocent townspeople or wanderers. Now can I guarantee her the same for you?
Cyreon doesn't raise his voice or even indicates that it was phrased as a question. He looks at the others for a few seconds before snarling another small phrase. Cali gets up lazily and comes to his heel. Cyreon nods towards the open temple door. Let's go.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

The little gnome makes his offerings at each temple, and after about an hour finds himself on the threshhold of the inn he was referred to earlier. He glances around at the crowd there, and if he sees the other travelers he met at the gate he only waves at them from across the room.

He goes first to the innkeeper, climbing atop a stool to be seen over the bar and placing a small stack of coins ((10gp)) in front of him. "Warm greetings Master Innkeeper, and warmth to all your clients. If you have the supplies, I would buy a supper and two drinks for each and every living soul who comes here this night. If you haven't enough, then give them what you do have. This should cover it, but you'll find me by the fire if the tab runs higher. Don't pad it too much."

He winks at the man and starts to climb down the stool, then looks back up. "But only two drinks each, my good man--I won't be responsible for brawling and debauchery."

Then he is off to find a footrest to sit on near the fire, and the company of the others if they have arrived yet.

((I'm about an hour ahead of the others so I won't be posting much until they catch up or flash forward. Alternately we can all flash forward to the next morning if the DM is ready; I have no further business in town.))

[MountainKing]

Robilard sputtered, finding little courage in the druid's words.

"Si-sirrah! Really, I must say if you really wanted to keep on the bright side of things, you really ought to leave Cali outside!" Glancing up at the symbol of St. Cuthbert (as that is the temple I believe he to be standing outside of), Robilard dashed in after the druid, even as the color continued to drain from his face.

In a moment, they were going to need him, if his guess about the temple's rules on animals was correct.

[Regord_Silentflame]

(OOC: Refresher for the look of your whereabouts)


(OOC: Giving descriptions for the temple of heironeous, and the shut eye inn.
ps: just so you all know, I have your first encounter ready for whenever you feel like winding down)

Temple of St. Cuthbert
One of the only few stone buildings in the town, the stone blocks stained red by constant battering by the dirt around. A large, smooth oaken door with a silver ring, with an inscribed cross is held open, exposing the inside of the building. Very simple there are a few open windows high up the walls, and a long grey carpet along the stone floor, leading up to a couple-stepped dias with a small iron altar. Two closed doors appear on opposite walls, and two men in grey clerical vestments walk around the room.

Shut-Eye Inn
Two shuttered windows face out to the street, on other side of a double-door, stoppered open. Inside there is a bar, the wall behind lined with many-colored bottles, a single man standing, pouring a drink for a man sitting in one of many stools. A dozen round tables are scattered along the room with a few chairs at each table, and a couple of candles lit at each table. there are only a dozen or so people scattered among the room, keeping to themselves. In the back there's a staircase that leads up and out of view.

EDIT: Sorry, I meant St. Cuthbert, not Heironeus!


The two priests turn at the sound of visitors to their temple, and at once notice the large cat walk in beside the men. A look of shock, and mostly hidden fear sweeps their faces. One of them does not turn away from them, but walks slowly towards one of the doors on the left wall, while the other approaches them cautiously, noting the look of unease on Robilar, and clearing his throat:
"Greetings travelers to the house of St. Cuthbert the just. May I ask what right need be wronged to call you here?"

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon curtiously bows before the Cleric, not paying a look to the one who is retreating to the door. We greet you, good man. My companions and I are travelling south and seek your counsel. Specifically, we have hard rumors about a plague of undead in these lands and we are eager to know whether we have to undertake precautions.

[Regord_Silentflame]

"oh, the undead. He stood several feet in front of them, standing straight and proud, but still sending a look at the Leopard every now and then.
"They are like hunting animals" Another glance to the cat "They come by every few weeks and roam the countryside for a couple of days, and they relentlessly hunt any living creatures that are unlucky enough to come across their path. We are safe behind these walls because they do not see us. If you are thinking of heading south, the only time that is truly safe is a few days after they leave. They usually do not come back for a few weeks, but there have been times they come back in less than a week, and so you would not want to tarry too long either.

[Silkenfist]

We thank you for your advice. Cyreon notices the uneasiness of the cleric but fails to find quick words of comfort. Though we had hoped to hear more about things that can be done other than hiding behind a solid wall. Needless to say, it would delay our journey if we had to hop from village to village, having to rest for weeks in each of them. It doesn't quite fit our idea of a pleasant hike. He strokes Calis fur around her neck - more to calm the priest than the leopard. His gaze drifts off while he continues.
Can you tell us who in this region takes care of that... plague? Maybe we can confer further with them.

[Regord_Silentflame]

"I can help you there" says a man coming into the room. The priest that had "run away" frightened, had gone through the door, and alerted the high priest, who now stands before you. His robes are pure white, with silver embroidery running along the entire length in intricate patterns. He waves a hand dismissively, and the priest who had been talking nodded, bowing quickly and taking his leave through the door the high-priest came in. He made his way slowly across the room, and spoke in a low voice as he drew near:

"Brave sirs, we are a village of farmers, the best of us perhaps could match with any single one of these vile creatures, so there are none that can "take care" of the plague. Over the years, certain rumors have come to my attention, and I have confirmed them with St. Cuthbert himself, but for the safety of the humble folk here, I have kept the information from them. The undead spawn from a long forgotten cave to the west, called Morrak's Tomb. If you enter their lair when they are about the countryside, you may only encounter scores of the unholy creatures, instead of thousands. There you can discover the source of this scourge, and rid our country of them.
He sighs, pausing for reflection for a moment before continuing "It would be more effort than it's worth if you are all just passing through our country, but that is my only knowledge of how to stop them. Our town cannot offer any reward for your bravery, but if you find the reason to accomplish this task, I can assure your names will be known throughout our land, and even in those of the elves.

[MountainKing]

"Morrak's Tomb, you say?" Robilard interjects, "Why, sounds dangerous," the bard's eyes glint with... excitement?, "I believe sirrah, that if we can, meaning Master Cyreon and I, can have some time to speak with our fair and noble companions, we can find it in our infathomable good natures to assist," the bard twirls lightly on his toes, the lute flying to fore that his back would not crush it as it impacted gently against the wall. With a thoughtful look on his face, Robilard begins to ponder.

Bardic Knowledge check: [roll0]
Knowledge (History) check: [roll1]
Knowledge (Religion) check: [roll2]

Essentially, Robilard is poring over what resources he has available to him, to see if he knows anything of relevance to someone called "Morrak" or a location known as "Morrak's Tomb".

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] Intelligence check to see if anything is remembered/known about Morrak's Tomb

"D'ye ken, that thar Morrak... his name sounds Dwarven but I ain't hard naught o' that bugger" Vingsturr says in consternation. Stroking his beard, he pronounces, "Be tha' as i' mae, Ah'll maek shore ta do me best again' them beasties"

[Silkenfist]

I won't even try a check there, wouldn't make much sense. Also, I'll assume small fluffy tricks work with Cali without much effort

Cyreon utters a small quiet growl. As he kneels down before the high priest, Cali simultaneously rises into a sitting position. Please don't concern yourself with this. I can't speak for all of us just now but if there is some way for us to stop this disgrace against nature and life, it is my personal mandate to undertake an attempt. He looks up from the floor to the high priest. Still we request your support in terms of information. The location of Morrak's Tomb specifically as well as any experience you have in protecting yourself from these abominations.

[Regord_Silentflame]

"There is a particular magical enchantment, that renders the sight of the undead ineffective against those who are thusly enchanted. If you wish to wait a few days, we can provide you with a tonic that can provide you the benifit, but it would only be for a short time. They would allow you to sneak past, or to run away, but they would not be best served as your only protection.

As for the location, I can provide you directions, they are not difficult, and Morrak's Tomb is not that far off.
The High Priest pulls out a short quill, and a scrap of parchment, and after writing down directions to get to Morrak's Tomb, he holds it out for Cyreon to take

"Brave Sir Dwarf, I pray that your best, and hopefully the best of the rest of you as well, against these fiends will be enough to rid out land of this plague"

[MountainKing]

Suddenly, Robilard's lute began to play a slow, haunting melody (for Robilard had obviously discovered that he did indeed know a bit about Morrak's Tomb!), and slowly, the bard rose to his feet.

"Morrak's Tomb, final resting place of a Dwarven hero of old, renowned for slaying trolls in the hundreds... I don't know what the people hereabouts know of the tale, but suffice that this hero, and his tomb, are known in distant lands..." Robilard eyed the priest hard, his expression grave.

Intimidate check to soften the priest up a bit: [roll0]

"Mark my words, priest. They are known, and feared. The tomb is cursed, according to the tale... and you would do well to tell us everything that you know about this Morrak and his tomb, before we set out on our way."

[Regord_Silentflame]

"I assure you sir that I have told you all I know!

[MountainKing]

"Hmph," Robilard snorted, "Well then, I think perhaps your research into the matter is somewhat lacking. No matter!" the bard's face flashed instantly back to being personable once more, "We shall seek out this place, armed with the righteous elixirs you have proposed, and explore the meanings behind this affair!" Robilard patted Vingsturr on the shoulder.

"At the very least, we'll be visiting a tomb of one of your famous kin, sir! Surely that alone is worth the trip."

[Miraqariftsky]

"Arrehk!" Vingsturrr swears as Robilard pronounces his lore on the legendary Morrak. "Keh'murstakh! Ah, the Trollsbane! Moradin indeed blesses us wi' hallood pilgrim'ge an' righteous quest i'one day, aye? A good day ta die an' a'even better day ta live, true 'nuff..."

[Regord_Silentflame]

The High priest nodded, and bowed quickly:
"Today our village is truly blessed by St. Cuthbert. I will inform my clergy of your need for those potions. Tell me sirs, are others in your entourage that are to take part in this quest? I must know how many to create"

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

"Oh this is a fine thing! I hadn't anything specific catch my interests like this in months! A tomb cursed with undead, and a dwarven tomb at that! Truely unusual, this should be most interesting! I would think as many as you could safely produce would be ideal, but I think at least two doses apiece, so we can sneak in and out if necessary." Simon blinks, and remembers that he's been so quite thinking about how humans have survived in such an unfriendly world that it's likely several of these people had forgotten he was even there!

"That is, of course if you don't mind another along for the ride! I may not look it, but I know a thing or two about the undead myself! Truly a fascinating topic they are. Especially the ones that retain their own mind, and truly blurring that line of when you're alive and when your dead, and calling in to question just how firm that line is. I know there was some report I was read on it earlier..." Simon starts to dig through his backpack again, rummaging around in more paper than you would think would fit in a bag that size.

Sorry again for the long delay...

Knowledge on Morrak's Tomb:
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]

[MountainKing]

"Two apiece, plus an extra for emergencies," Robilard remarked amiably, flashing the priest a knowing smile, "After all, while I apparently knew a bit more about Morrak's Tomb than you did, neither of us quite know what to expect... between myself, Cyreon, Vingsturr, this good Simon fellow, master Cyreon's elf companion, and I suspect that peculiar gnomish fellow, that would be... eight and ten, near a score of these elixirs."

Diplomacy check: [roll0]

[Silkenfist]

Way OOC:
master Cyreon's elf companion,
My what? I didn't know, I could take an Elf as Animal Companion :smallcool:

Cyreon stands up again and motions to Cali that she can relax as well. He waits for the others to make their estimates, seemingly lost in thought with a displeased look in his face. We thank you for that offer, high priest. But it will be hard to estimate what the future will bring. There might be more wanderers who will have an interest in joining the expedition. Also, the large body of the horde should probably be avoided by the simple mundane means of circling around it altogether. Certainly, the blessing of your potions would help but choosing the right time to advance will be more critical. What we will need are your ideas of what the source of the plague could be as well as your recommended treatment of it. Would destruction suffice or is there more for us to heed?

[Regord_Silentflame]

"Well, I don't have a definitive answer, but I have a theory about that. Usually the undead are raised by dark power, to serve the bidding of those who raised them. These though have no purpose, they simple roam the country, eating. My theory is, that someone, or something, is raising them, and sending them out to wreak aimless havok. I do not know what their source is, but if you put a stop to it, perhaps they would stop as well."

"About the potions, I suppose we could get you a score, but it will take a few days, and we'll have to pray you are successful before anyone else needs our aid.

[MountainKing]

Robilard smiled warmly.

"Fear not, good priest. Our hearts are stout and brave; we will prevail, and when we return, we will give a great recounting of our journey and our trials; whatever we discover, you may then record, to keep record of for years to come," Robilard shrugged uneasily, "...just in case our efforts don't stop it permanently..." the bard smiled again, "But I assure you, we shall do our best!"

He turned to his companions then.

"Well then, Cyreon, Simon, Vingsturr... shall we obtain lodging then? Surely you don't wish to camp outside the walls for several days, master druid."

[Miraqariftsky]

"Verily" Vingsturr replies, tucking his hammer back into his wide belt. Nevertheless, his right hand hovers over his many hilts, ever-ready for trouble. "Aye, Ah'd be partial ta some beef-an-mushroom stew, meself... sadly, with mere goat's milk"

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon hesitates for one moment. While I would normally recommend spending the night in a natural environment, this situation is far from normal... or natural for that matter. We need to make sure not to run into the horde when we make our move for the tomb, so we might need to stay for a while. We could use the time to gather everyone who is willing to participate and prepare ourselves for the case we are forced to fight. He sighs and sratches the back of his head. I guess, I'll ask the local innkeepers whether they would be so kind to donate a little place in the stables for Cali and me. It is probably the best compromise between comfort and security, there is for us.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Do wot ye will, lad" Vingsturr rumbles, nonchalantly stroking the stone head of his warhammer. "I'll stick by ye as I be sworn ta do"

[MountainKing]

Robilard frowned uneasily, and scuffed a foot; he'd spent the night outdoors many a time, but he had positively NO desire to sleep in a stable, especially when there was a perfectly good INN to take lodging in, like any sound minded, sensible being SHOULD.

"Well, masters, I believe we shall be parting ways, then... ah, I'll see you in the morning!"

With that, Robilard heads for the inn, with intent to purchase lodging for the next few nights.

[Regord_Silentflame]

OOC: Alright, we'll skip ahead until the next undead invasion (since I'm guessing that's what you'll wait for)

Despite your urgings, the high-priest comes to you a couple of days later with 1 potion for all of you, with 2 extras.
"We tried, but we just don't have the materials for more sirs."

Most of the villagers were very pleased to have a free meal, and Plumm has many friends in town, although 2 or 3 people are glaring jealously.(It cost you a total of 5 gp to provide a large meal and bar tab for everyone)

After 5 days, the call that the undead have been spotted by the farther farmers comes in, and throughout the day the gates are open, scores of groups of people through to stay safe. The population of the town has nearly doubled, every building packed with people.

OOC: Everyone tell me where you'd be at about 4 or 5pm that day.

[MountainKing]

Robilard, for his part, spent his time between the tavern and the gate, plying his musical trade by day, and spending time in the evenings working with Vingsturr, learning bits and pieces of the Dwarven language, and committing Dwarven ballads to memory (both of which a bard has quite a capacity for).

Robilard's Perform checks for earning a bit of coin during the day, for five days:
Day One-
Perform (Stringed Instruments): [roll0]
Perform (Sing): [roll1]
Day Two-
Perform (Stringed Instruments): [roll2]
Perform (Sing): [roll3]
Day Three-
Perform (Stringed Instruments): [roll4]
Perform (Sing): [roll5]
Day Four-
Perform (Stringed Instruments): [roll6]
Perform (Sing): [roll7]
Day Five-
Perform (Stringed Instruments): [roll8]
Perform (Sing): [roll9]
This is assuming that we're IN the fifth day, and not the day after, though it doesn't make much difference aside from roleplaying for me.

As Robilard sat, perched on the wall as he was, he played his lute happily, bringing perhaps some measure of cheer to those coming to the town as they pass him by.

Perform (Stringed Instruments): [roll10]
This roll is not for the purpose of making money, just for, as I said, roleplaying.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

Plumm let the innkeeper keep the change ((I had given him 10 gp)) with the admonition of remembering to show generosity to the poor when they most need it. He did his best to be polite to the jealous-looking people.

He spent the days digging a large (5x20' wide, 10' deep) trench just off the main road outside the gate. The trench runs parallel to the town wall. It's a big job for a gnome so he sought assistance from any of the villagers who took a liking to him, even if they could just give an hour or two of help here or there. Then he covered it with thin branches and then leaves and grass.

((Untrained craft(trapmaking) skill for a 10' pit trap covering. It's only meant to corral zombies, not to actually hurt them, since it isn't deep enough for that. I'll accept any and all Aid Another rolls you folks can give me to help disguise it.
[roll0] ))

One the day the reports came in, he took up position on the wall near the gate, overlooking his covered trap. As travelers come in he warns them verbally about the trap in case they should stray off the road, and he laughs and jokes with the children who come through.

His hound has been noticeably absent except for a brief appearance one day to play with a group of children.

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon spent most of the past days at the local temples, trying to learn more of the region, debating the upcoming quest with his new comrades and making one visit to the nearest forest to give his friends at home information about the recent events. When word of the attack is spreading, he will go to the outer farms, helping to bring the farming families and their livestock within the safety of the city walls. Cali will spend that day resting well away from the main roads in order not to cause any problems that could cost precious time.

[Regord_Silentflame]

In the early evening, as the Sun is getting low in the sky, things are dying down. Almost everyone is in the city walls by now (PCs excluded for those of you outside), when a haggard, worn out man can be seen running closer to the city. A few of the townspeople manning the gate walk outside to meet up with him, and they start a heated conversation.

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon notices the arrival, interpreting it to be a messenger of some kind. He continues escorting farmers into the city but he will stop shortly as soon as he reaches the gate to address the messenger. Excuse my interruption, good man. But you arrived in a great hurry. Is there something we should know about?

[Regord_Silentflame]

The worried man turns to face Cyreon, but couldn't get out more than quick gibberish. The gate "guard" who was talking to him patted him on the shoulder.
"The poor man's family is in trouble. His wife is pregnant, she's almost ready to burst as is, so she can't walk. He's come to find a cart to transport her here in."

[MountainKing]

"Well then good sir, there is no question to the matter! Children are the beautiful light of hope in the world, and we cannot leave a woman in danger such as this!" Robilard spoke quickly, his voice carrying a note of compassion with an undercurrent of urgency...

Diplomacy check to improve NPC's attitude, if necessary:
[roll0]

"Now, kind sir, this is of utmost importance! Where can we find a cart and horse, post-haste!"

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

"Gruffix, come!" The gnome jumps down from the top of the wall and his dog bursts into being in a glimmer of light at his side. To the man at the gate he calls, "Please, can you warn travelers to mind the trench outside?"

[Silkenfist]

A cart... Cyreon looks at the horizon already somewhat anxious to see the waves of mindless abominations approaching. I don't know where to find that one. But tell me, sir. How exactly is the state of your wive? Will she need the cart or could a strong steed suffice... when I could guarantee for its tameness? Cyreon looks directly into the eyes of the man, speaking quickly and somberly.

[Regord_Silentflame]

"I'm a farmer, not a doctor. One thing I know though is I'd rather have my wife ride to town on a tame horse than eaten by dead'uns while a carriage is on the way.
He turned frantically to Cyreon "please sir, I cannot offer you a reward, but the undying gratitude of a man in desperate need, and the safety of a newborn babe and her mother.

[Silkenfist]

Say no more. Cyreon calmly puts a hand on the shoulder of the man and looks towards the gate. If there is something we can do to prevent these horrors to cause more death, then it is our duty to do so. I will need you to tell me the way to find the house. Plumm, I will need you and your hound to accompany me and talk to the lady since I won't be able to. Cali! The leopard approaches slowly, looking at the Druid with expectation. I need you to protect me during this. I will get out an bring your wive back. Cyreon takes two steps back and kneels on the ground, concentrating. The next moment his form becomes blurry, quickly reshaping itself while brightening up noticeably. Few seconds later, a stout white pony stands in front of the townspeople. It steps forward to the husband looking at him attentively.

Wild Shape into a War Pony
Handle Cali to protect me

[MountainKing]

"Master Cyreon, hold a tick, and I shall speed you on your way, at least briefly!" With that, Robilard muttered and hummed a moment, fingers waggling this way and that before the bard reached out and touched Cyreon's flank.

"Now go, good Cyreon! Fly like the winds!"

Cast expeditious retreat on Cyreon.[/i]

[Regord_Silentflame]

The man blinks confused, stepping back. Unable to think of anything else to say, he just blurts out:
"Do I ride him?" he says, looking at Plumm.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm smiles his best reassuring smile. "Mmmm... better to say here. Give me directions and we'll get her back safely!" He eyes the bard as he finishes casting his spell. "Master Robilard, is it? Would you be able to put the same magic on good Gruffix here?"

[MountainKing]

"We must hurry!" the bard says as he steps to the sheepdog, "Master Cyreon, with your permission, I would go with you to yon endangered damsel; would you be willing to carry me with you?" Without waiting for any answer, the plucky bard clambered atop the horse-bodied druid and wrapped his arms about his neck.

"No time for answers, friend! We must be off, post-haste!"

EDIT: Actually, I can't cast Expeditious Retreat on anybody. I overlooked that it's a Personal spell, so, we're going to play pretend and act like I never tried to do such a silly thing. :smallredface:

[Regord_Silentflame]

"It's just two miles on the road south, then you can see the house on your right, it's the only one that's taller than it is wide."
He says, backing up and letting them head out.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

"Raise your voice, Master Bard!" yells the little gnome. "Summon the others to follow!"

With that, he races out of the gate and down the road to the south.

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

Strolling towards the gate, curious as to the influx of people dying down, if this was everyone in the area, Simon sees his fellow travelers already there, preparing, apparently to go somewhere.

"Now where are you all off to? I though we would be investigating that Tomb within the next several days. Don't tell me we're heading off already and I didn't notice! Why does that always seem to happen...for some reason I'm always left out of the loop of comings and goings..."

Simon is lost for a brief moment before catching himself. "And where did you find such a steed, I wouldn't have suspected a village of this size to house one...And so intelligent appearing, too. Well, no matter, shall we be off then?"

[MountainKing]

"No, good Simon, we are about to mount a rescue for a woman with child, left in the wake of the coming undead!" Giving Cyreon a pat on the flank, he continued, "This is master Cyreon! We do not seem to have enough steeds for all, but we do not ride into battle, rather for a mere rescue! Stay here, good scholar, and inform good Vingsturr of what has happened; we shall return shortly!"

[Miraqariftsky]

"Ach, lad! Halloa!" Vingturr yells as he bursts, hopping, from the tavern's outhouse, tugging on his trousers with one hand. "Sorreh boot me scarceness. The goatsmilk 'round here's purty wahl turnt!"

When he hears the news of the rescue mission, he calls out and quick-marches to catch up with the others. "Oist, me legs be stubby an' don' taek me 'squick's y'all longshanks, but Ah still be a fair shot at 'roon forty feet wi' me dwarven arrer. Ah'll taek potshots at 'em dead 'uns while y'all heft th' missus away, righ'..."

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon doesn't resist the Bard and slightly bends his knees to help him get up. Impatiently, he nods in direction of the farms and stomps with one of the front hooves while uttering an eerie series of growls to the leopard kneeling besides him.

[MountainKing]

"Well met, good Vingsturr! The shambling horde is presently approaching, and we fear that it will crash upon the gates of the town before long! We have much need of haste, friend; remain here, and we shall return post-haste!" Patting Cyreon on the neck, Robilard smiled an almost mad, roguish grin.

"We ride!"

[Regord_Silentflame]

Hello? anyone there?

[Another_Poet]

We've announced who's going to the house and who isn't. I think we're all waiting for something from the DM. What happens?

[Regord_Silentflame]

Well, that's very nice of you all I suppose, but none of you have actually "left" yet, so I've been waiting for you to finish your conversations with eachother and actually...leave

[MountainKing]

Well, that's very nice of you all I suppose, but none of you have actually "left" yet, so I've been waiting for you to finish your conversations with eachother and actually...leave


Robilard is TRYING to. :smallfrown:

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Lets get a move! I would hate to think of something horrible happening to a farm wife, especially under my watch!"

And with that, Simon heads out the gate and starts up the road (completely not noticing that he has no idea where this farm house is!)

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

Plumm urges Gruffix to top speed and darts just ahead of the scholar, showing him the way as best he can reckon it from the directions he was given. He'll continue on till he sees either the tall house, someone in need of help or some sign of danger.

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] Spot
[roll1] More Spot
[roll2] And yet more Spot
[roll3] And another Spot check...
[roll4] Yer mad and yer seeing things! Go to a doctor already, dagnabbit!


Vingsturr huffs out and runs outside the gate but his stubby legs have no hope of catching up with his longshanked companions. Twirling his hammer every so often, he settles into patrolling the road just outside the town's gates, pacing restlessly, searching the horizon for signs of their return... or the assault of the undead.

[Regord_Silentflame]

Plumm out-paces his scholarly companion, noticing the house just before he'd lost sight of Simon completely. The house was fine, and there were no undead to be seen. But the smell! For anyone who had ever been near a dead corpse before, they would know at once that it was the horrid stench of rotting flesh carried on the slow breeze, coming from the hills to the west.


For the sake of arguement, since I know Robilard was TRYING to leave, I'm going to assume he's right beside Plumm.

[MountainKing]

"Ugh! What a stench!" Robilard exclaims, "Quickly, Cyreon! We're almost there!" The entire ride, Robilard had spent clutching the horse-shaped druid's neck desperately; he had little expirience with riding horses, and had really only what grace he bore through virtue of his dexterity to stay seated. Self consciously, the bard attempted to bury his nose in Cyreon's mane, hoping to protect his senses from the scent of carrion without the druid noticing.

Bluff check to disguise his hiding of his nose as just desperate clinging to Cyreon's neck. I think I can do that, not that it's really a big deal... I'm just kind of tipsy at the moment, so please pardon my spelling. And rambling. Rolling dice now...

[roll0]

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

"Peeee-yu!" Exclaims the gnome as he catches the scent on the wind. "It's like they're dead and gassy! I hope we've come in time..."

He jumps off of his dog's back as he approaches the house, tripping and somersaulting as he lands and just about slamming into the door. "Oof! Ummm.. you in there Missus? It's just us, completely alive - we're here to help you!"

Plumm alternates between rapping on the door and jumping up and down trying to see through the windows.

[Regord_Silentflame]

"I'm here. Come in"

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon maintains his shape, not stepping in yet. He bows down to the Leopard, uttering a small sequence of sneers. We wait outside, Cali. Our friends will bring out the one for us to protect.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm enters, shielding his face with one hand and asking, "Are you decent, ma'am?"

[MountainKing]

Just as Plumm opens the door, Robilard half falls with what is probably the most grace anyone could muster when falling off a horse, and lands with a rather undignified thud on his rear. Hopping upright, Robilard pats Cyreon on the neck.

"You'll be bearing the missus back without me atop you, Cyreon. I've a trick or three to keep up with a running horse!" With that, the bard approached the door, biting his nip nervously... something felt... amiss.

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

"Someday, I've really got to get myself a horse...or maybe a pegasus...or a griffin...it sure would be better than always running everywhere. I really have to remember that this time..." Simon huffs along easily, slowly approaching the house in the distance when he gets the whiff of undead. It's coming from the east, and not the house, so he speeds up a bit to get there before anything else does.

[Regord_Silentflame]

"Who is it? where's my husband?"

[MountainKing]

"Madam, please, my name is Robilard Dunland, and we've come to rescue you. The shambling horde has returned to your fair lands once again, and your husband came to town seeking aid in retrieving you hastily! We do not have time for questions or further introductions, so if you would please come with us, we can be off!"

Diplomacy check to get the woman's arse in gear!
[roll0]

[Regord_Silentflame]

She groans, slowly getting to her feet
"I appreciate the help, but I really could not walk all the way to town from here, I'm just too heavy!"

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

Plumm still has his eyes shielded in case she isn't decent, and he stumbles about the room bumping into things. "No ma'am, we have a horse! And a dog... but probably best for you to take the horse." He frowns. "You are human, right?"

[MountainKing]

"Indeed ma'am, we have brought our good friend Cyreon with us, who has obliged us in the service as a steed! Come, Plumm and I will assist you onto his back, and do not fear! Cyreon will not permit you to fall!"

With that, Robilard began to hustle the woman discretely by helping her remain steady as she walks, followed by helping Plumm get her onto the horse (or rather, having Plumm help him get her onto Cyreon, for even if the druid stooped low, the plucky gnome would not be of a great deal of assistance).

[Another_Poet]

Plumm helps as best he can. "It's not bad for the baby to ride a horse, is it?" he asks.

[Regord_Silentflame]

"I think it would be worse for the baby to be eaten by zombies" she says exasperated, getting very difficultly onto Cyreon's back.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

The gnome seems relieved when the woman is safely onto the horse, and more than a little exhausted from helping to get her up there. He wipes the sweat from his brow and clambers onto Gruffix, looking sceptically at the now-mountless bard and the pregnant rider. "I um... How do I lead this thing?" He wonders aloud before remembering it is no ordinary horse. "CYREON!" He calls, speaking loudly and slowly like he's talking to a deaf person. "CAN YOU HEAR ME? WE NEED TO GO BACK TO TOWN NOW!"

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

Jogging up just as they're hoisting the woman onto Cyreon, Simon waves and smiles. "Hey there, hope you're doing alright. The road is pretty much clear for the moment, so let start heading back!" With that he turns around and starts jogging right back to the village.

[MountainKing]

"Simon?!" Robilard cried incredulously as the absent minded scholar appeared, "By the gods, what are you doing here?! Qui- no, get over here! You're mad, you know that?!" Robilard started jogging after Simon, calling back to Cyreon and his passenger, "Never fear m'lady, Cyreon will bear you gently!"

"Simon! Gods above and below, SIMON!" When at last the bard got Simon's attention, Robilard had an exasperated expression on his face.

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

A good 20 squares down the road, he realizes that Robliard has been yelling at him since he caught up. Simon turns around to see whats wrong, "What is it? I thought we were to get this lady back tot he confines of the village wall?"

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon starts a slow trot, carefully testing how quickly he can be without the woman on his back shaking too vigorously. He snorts and nods to Plumm, trying to wink as he starts the return to the city.

[MountainKing]

"Yes!" Robilard says, exasperation apparent in his voice, "But unless I am mistaken, you are somewhat ill-suited for fleeing from the undead on foot! Start running, Simon- NOW! I will remain by your side, and if we are set upon, I will try and distract the shambling horde!"

Simon! Run away, run away!

[MountainKing]

"Yes!" Robilard says, exasperation apparent in his voice, "But unless I am mistaken, you are somewhat ill-suited for fleeing from the undead on foot! Start running, Simon- NOW! I will remain by your side, and if we are set upon, I will try and distract the shambling horde!"

Simon! Run away, run away!

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

Simon stares at Robilard confused for several moments. "But these are wandering zombies and should be easily out runnable, even on foot. Besides, their stench is coming from the west, and we should have no trouble keeping ahead of them. Truly, the lady should be easily safe."

...
...
...

"Oh, yes! We should get moving now, shouldn't we?" And with that Simon turns 'round again and continues jogging back towards the village.

[Regord_Silentflame]

Almost as if speaking of them caused them to rise from the ground, over the hills to the west a huge mass of graying flesh rises into view. The dead are advancing at a very slow rate, but they are coming with an ominous inevitability.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

Seeing the horde, Plumm urges Gruffix up to the two men on foot, but keeps his eye on Cyreon up ahead to make sure he is escaping with the pregnant woman.

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon maintains his pace even as the mass of undead becomes visible. So far it didn't seem like they would be able to catch them and haste might be harmful for their guest. He continues to concentrate on keeping the weight balanced and snorts briefly to the leopard at his side. Let's stay calm, Cali. We won't attack these things. Should they reach us...do your best to protect the woman on my back.

[MountainKing]

As the shambling hordes lumbered into view, Robilard's eyes widened, before his face struck with the picture of noble heroism.

"Haste, good Simon, haste! They have come, and draw near to us!" With that, the bard rolled his wrist and sang a few words in Elvish, enchanting his legs with greater speed.

"Master Plumm! Noble Cyreon can bear the woman safely, but Simon is on foot! We must assay the coming undead and see if we cannot draw them away a short distance!" With that, Robilard dashed towards the undead mob, with the intention of using a few arrows to see if the undead would turn en masse... and of course, he makes sure to keep a healthy distance between himself and the undead.

Cast Expeditious Retreat, duration is 5 minutes.

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

Eyeing the queer and worrisome Robilard, Simon continues heading towards the city. Once the horde crests the hill, he speeds up to a run.

"Wait my good Robilard, we should be able to outdistance them easily, no need to head towards them!"

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

"Master bard! Return!" Plumm bellows in his little voice. For now he sticks close to the horse bearing the pregnant woman.

[MountainKing]

"Ride on, noble Cyreon, ride on!" the bard shouted back, even as he brought his shortbow to the fore. His legs carried him over the grassy plain rapidly, with an inhuman (indeed magical) speed and grace. Once he was some one hundred feet distant from the undead, Robilard begins to fire arrows into the mob, hoping that the sight of living flesh paired with the irritation of stinging arrows would be enough to turn the horde, causing it to alter its direction.

[Regord_Silentflame]

OOC: The undead are very far away, it's going to take Robilard at least a few minutes to get within a hundred feet.

[MountainKing]

Make it so, number 1. :smalltongue:

[Regord_Silentflame]

Which means the rest of you should post something within a day or so, or I'll head straight to combat for him alone.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

Plumm is visibly conflicted. He looks back and forth between the courageous bard and the woman who's practically in labour in the saddle. Or lack of saddle, as it were. He bites his lower lip hard, and stays by her side. Looking up he tries to sound calm and reassuring. "Don't worry, Ma'am, we've got a good lead and we'll be to town soon."

[Miraqariftsky]

He said 'twould be naught but a swift ride... and ordered me ta hold the line here... blight! BLAST!, runs Vingsturr's thoughts as he paces back and forth some hundred feet from the town's gates, waiting anxiously for his companions' return. ever and anon, he looks up and gazes at the horizon, wary for both charges and threats, all the while passing his throwing hammer from one hand to another.

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon merely shakes his snout as he trots on, beginning to miss his ability to express himself in Common. He tries to keep up the pace in the hope that the Bard returns as soon as their distance to the horde has improved enough. At Cyreon's flank, Cali pays a short look to where Robilard went, then follows her companion nonetheless.

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

Simon turns and stares after Robilard for several long seconds, wondering why he is so eager to run towards the undead. The smell is bad enough from here. With a shrug and a thought to remember to ask him later if he survives, Simon turns and heads back to the village, not worried of being caught at all.

[Regord_Silentflame]

OOC: Alright, seems like everyone's said what they're doing, so we'll skip ahead a little.

The undead are mindless zombies and skeletons, so they possess no effective means of ranged attack of course, so the valiant bard can tell me what his actions are for about 4 rounds before they get within close distance of him.

By that point, the rest of you are 1/2 - 3/4 of the way back to the town, and you should return in about 2 minutes.

[MountainKing]

OOC: Robilard's plan is as previously posted. Shoot a couple arrows in the general direction of the undead, see if they notice him, then start moving and hope that they follow him rather than continue rambling toward the village. Sort of a pied piper act, except with pointy sticks and running away instead of playing a flute.

[Regord_Silentflame]

Alright, well many undead react to being fired at, and a few score start to follow after Robilard, but there are many many more, and they continue on their path unperturbed.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

Plumm escorts the horse back to town. When they approach the gates he lets the horse amd rider go in alone, wishing the woman a safe delivery as she goes. He takes a moment to give his pit trap a final inspection.

((Regord if you need to see the specs and my roll for it see post 98 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4244937&postcount=98). Did the villagers pitch in? Did we get it dug and covered?))

((Also I don't think anyone said whether or not they had Aided Another during the three days of work. The pregnant woman thing came up and we got off the topic. If anyone was helping me dig it, let me know, because I only rolled an 11 on my own.))

[MountainKing]

"Right," Robilard muttered, clearing his throat softly. Pointing at the nearest batch of undead who had opted to ignore the plucky bard, Robilard suddenly cut loose with a piercing cry, the magic of the music flowing through him.

"HoiYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAH!"

And with that sudden, defiant outburst, the bard quickly moved himself to a safer distance.

Casting Sound Burst on nearby zombies; Robilard will not be ignored! Then, of course... running away.

[roll0] points of sonic damage to a group of undead in a 10 ft radius area, preferably all undead who are ignoring Robilard.

[Regord_Silentflame]

Plumm: yeah, it was finished exactly how you wanted. The Villagers helped, but they're worse at it than you, so how effective it is is dependent on the other players, but even if they didn't help, it will work.

Robilard: A sound burst doesn't even nearly hit all the undead, but I do admire your spirit


When Robilard bursted the undead sonically, a few were knocked about a little, and one of them was even unfortunate enough to shake apart, it's split body still wriggling on the ground.

He got what he wanted. When the zombie hit the ground, it was as if every single one of those lifeless creatures turned, staring directly at him. As he ran away from the horde it responded, the skeletons bursting forth from the back of zombies and charging straight for him, and if he ever bothered to look back, he'd realize that he wasn't gaining any ground on them.

[MountainKing]

OOC: Yeah, I figured it wouldn't, but when all else fails in the art of getting somethings attention, just yell really loud. :smalltongue:

Robilard paused, only long enough to take a glance... then the bard yelped, and suddenly he was running even faster than before.

Discretion lad, that's the better part of valor! By Fharlagn's codpiece, run!

Robilard will now be taking a Run action, and I'd like an estimate on how much time is left on my Expeditious Retreat.

[Miraqariftsky]

Suddenly, Vingsturr hears the sounds of battle from beyond the field of tall grass. The wandering warrior hears the furious retreat of his comrades, Cyreon's earth-eating hoofbeats, the blast of magic from Robilard and the unmistakable stench of the damned dead.

Jumping and hopping to get a better vantage point, the son of Swifthammer sees the writhing mass of accursed undead striding slowly, ominously, purposely in pursuit of his comrades. Seeing that a single dwarven arrow would make little difference against such a horde, he prepares to throw it nevertheless and draw his axe afterwards. Breaking into a charge towards them, his short legs pumping the dirt. "Baruk ai khazad! Khazad ai menu!"

[Regord_Silentflame]

OOC: Yeah, I figured it wouldn't, but when all else fails in the art of getting somethings attention, just yell really loud. :smalltongue:

Robilard paused, only long enough to take a glance... then the bard yelped, and suddenly he was running even faster than before.

Discretion lad, that's the better part of valor! By Fharlagn's codpiece, run!

Robilard will now be taking a Run action, and I'd like an estimate on how much time is left on my Expeditious Retreat.


Don't worry about it, with expeditious retreat, you can get back before 5 minutes is up, especially if you start it running.

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

Simon looks on from the gate as the dwarf charges off towards the undead. "My, but everyone seems to be so eager to rush off, don't they. Quite strange really, since they're coming to us anyways. It looks like Robilard made sure of that. I would have thought he would try to lead them away. Oh well, I guess sometimes plans can go bad. Oh well, I guess this is a good of time as any to gt a handle on what we're facing!

[roll0]
[roll1] (for Knowledge Devotion feat)

With that Simon will a charge when skeletons get within range (assuming he knows that none of them are crazy strong or something)

[MountainKing]

To make it clear, Robilard IS trying to divert the undead away from the town. He isn't particularly worried about Expeditious Retreat running out on him, as once he's a run action or two away from the undead, he'll have plenty of time to recast it if it's necessary. That's why I asked, because Robilard's plan is to lead the undead in a direction that is different from the destination of the party bearing a pregnant, helpless woman.

[Regord_Silentflame]

I don't think I've made this clear. There are nearly 1000 undead in the vicinity, although many of them are very far away, there are still several hundred nearby. They're rather spread out, and unless you're running generally towards the party (45 degrees to either side) then even with your expeditious retreat, they'll catch you, simply because there are that many spread so wide. Your tactic will cause them to not be moving towards the other players, or the town, but unless you want to literally wade through the undead, they'll still be heading towards them, just much slower.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

As the woman is taken safelhy inside the town, Plumm rides his sheepdog back and forth between his several over-eager allies urging them to get back inside the town walls (that's Vingsturr Simon, not Robilard, whom I trust has a plan).

"We can mow them down from in there! Out here it's us who'll get the mowing!"

[MountainKing]

And a plan he has, indeed! ...maybe? I mean, bloody hell, that's a lot more undead than it sounded like it was going to be.

Robilard's eyes widened as he ran, realization sinking in with alarming speed... this was a much larger swarm of undead than the priest at the temple had made it out to be. Frowning, the plucky bard decided that, chances were, Cyreon and company had gotten enough use out of his distraction... it was time to go!

That'll be a Run action back toward town then... bloody hell, thousands of undead...

[Regord_Silentflame]

Robilard gets back to the gates, they've been left open for him, and he has a hundred feet or so between him and the charging skeletons.

[Miraqariftsky]

Suddenly, Vingsturr stops in shock as he crests the nearest clump of tall grass and sees the truth of the graveness of the situation. The dwarf dashes back to the relative safety of the gates and pants out to Robilard, "Ho there! Meheard some bangin' an' clangourin' an' methought ta join th' fray... se... be... ho... Ah... Cyreon's back, mesees... Se noo, do we maek a stan' haer or got ye somma trick oppa yer sleevin'?"

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

Plumm's mount pads up beside the bard and the dwarf. "I've got a trench dug outside of town that should trap thirty or for--holy **** on a **** sandwich! There's how many?" He stares in disbelief at the growing horde sweeping over the hills. "If we're to make a stand then let's get to the wall. The villagers said they can't get over it so we should be able to poke, pelt and snipe all day."

[MountainKing]

Robilard skidded to a halt inside the gates, breathing hard and slapping his hands to his knees.

"By... the gods... thousands of 'em! Shut the gates, by Heironeous' tin-covered backside, SHUT THE GATES!" Blowing out one final heavy breath, the bard straightened and continued to breath, albeit gradually catching his breath.

"I have no idea Plumm, Vingsturr... can skeletons climb walls?" The bard looked around, beginning to worry, "Oi! Does anyone know if skeletons can climb walls?!" The bard's mind began to race as he tried to think through what little religious schooling he'd gotten.

Quick little Knowledge (Religion) check, if I can. Trying to see if Robilard knows if skeletons can climb walls... or at least, if these ones look like they were exceptional in the realm of skeletonhood.
[roll0]

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

"Well of course there's so many. You didn't expect less to make such a large cloud of stench, did you? And Robilard, of course skeletons can climd the walls, but do you see the brains inside their skulls that will let them think of the idea?" Simon turn to the nears wallguard and and asks, "Are there usually this many, or is this something new my good sir?"

HP: 36/36
AC: 17
[roll0]
Status: +4 on attack/damage rolls vs undead (Knowledge Devotion)
Spells left: 2/5/1

I'm assuming the Knowledge Religion check of 31 will let me know these things. Also, a +4 to attacks and damage on undead til end of encounter, w00t!

[Regord_Silentflame]

(Yes, skeletons CAN climb walls, but because they have null intelligence, it may take them an hour to think of the idea XD)

The gates are closed now, but the skeletons are fast approaching.
(I'll roll Init for everyone, you get a full-round action to draw weapons/get in place, yatta yatta, then post your action for this current round. I don't have a map yet, but I'll get one in the next few days. For now, just assume if you're on the gates, there are at least 3 skeletons within 60ft of you, none closer than 30ft)
Map/Initiative updated!
Don't worry, you won't have to fight them all.

[roll0] Cyreon
[roll1] Plumm
[roll2] Simon
[roll3] Robilard (can't access your sheet)
[roll4] Vinsturr

Enemies:
[roll5]
[roll6]
[roll7]

Looks like Vingsturr is first.

[MountainKing]

You know, I can't access my sheet either, but according to my copy my init is +4 (all from dex). I think I PM'd the sheet to you back in the day; if you want a copy of your own, I can resend it.

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

"Well this should be interesting! I can't wait to see how effective that pit is!" With that Simon waits and picks out a good target before launch an arcane bolt at it.

HP: 36/36
AC: 17
Initiative: 6
Status: +4 on attack/damage rolls vs undead (Knowledge Devotion)
Spells left: 1/5/1

Standard Action: Cast Disrupt Undead at the most dangerous looking skeleton in range.

[roll0] (35' range)
[roll1]

[Silkenfist]

After returning the woman to the safety of the city walls and patiently waiting for her to be picked up, Cyreon assumes the shape of a Human again. He bows before the young family then returns to the gates. Enjoying the ability to speak again, he utters a set of growls to Cali before he climbs the city walls together with her. He makes himself comfortable for a long night to come.


Handle Animal to advise Cali to stay on the wall and only fight the Undead that have successfully climbed it. Tell me if I have done this earlier or whether it consumes my action for this round.

[Another_Poet]

Regord:
In a human-sized town with a human-sized fence, is there anything a gnome can stand on to fight from the wall?

The gnome jumps up and down eagerly when Simon mentions his pit. "Hee hee! Me too! Maybe we'll catch a few for interrogation!" He wrinkles his nose. "Hmm, or a bath. Master Bard, can you lure them toward it with your illusions? Or should I got out there on the hound and do it?"

He scratches his chin as he surveys his odds of riding out, luring the undead to the pit, and getting back again alive. ((Regord, is that possible or are they already densely pressed around the walls?))

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon sits still on the wall, alertly observing the Undead but not moving a finger for now. As he hears his comrades plan for battle, he slowly shakes his head before resting it on the back of his hand. If you don't mind me cutting in: Why are you so eager to destroy these corpses? I commend your zeal to rid nature from the very sight of them but as soon as we succeed in our quest, the cleansing will happen anyway. For all we know these gates have weathered more than one assault already. We can very well save our powers for tasks or foes that require their use more urgently.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

"With great respect for your Reverence, Master Druid," Plumm says solemnly, "I try to not presume victory. If we live and we cleanse the land at the source, today's battle is indeed a mere etude. But if we die on that quest--and we are all mortal--then whatever we did today can make the job easier for more suitable heroes."

[Silkenfist]

That is true. Cyreon replies calmly, keeping his eyes focussed on the mass of Undead surrounding them. But for now it should be our duty and priority to keep this settlements including ourselves alive for the fortnight. These decaying lumps of bone down there don't seem to be an immediate threat. Believe me that I would rather see them destroyed right now but since we will soon gain this very opportunity, I will restrain myself from endangering the mission. Attacks against them will reduce their numbers somewhat but from what we have seen it might also cause them to stick around longer and delay our quest against the source. He exhales heavily and presses his hand against his temples as his fears manifest inside his head. Undead marching the streets, slaughtering townsfolk, humans being devoured alive, vainly climbing walls to temporarily delay their doom... he opens his eyes again and looks at Plumm. But the main reason why I am reluctant to use my limited powers just now is the fear that there might be enemies that are able to overcome the bounds of the wall which we need to fight. If we are to defend the city and ourselves, we should consider this possibility as well.

[MountainKing]

Robilard frowned.

"Illusions? Good heavens, whatever made you suspect that I possessed such magics?" Robilard grabbed his lute, grinning fiercely at the oncoming skeletons, "No, I'm afraid that my magics are not so subtle as most may be..." With that, Robilard hopped onto the wall and began to strum his lute vigorously, ending on a high, piercing note, similar to his singing cry earlier.

Casting Sound Burst once again, targeted to hit as many skeletons as possible.
Sonic Damage: [roll0]

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0]
[roll1]
wh-wh-whklonk


"Aye" Vingsturr concurs. "Yon gnome's right, laddae buck. Ye don't kill the stokarth beast by bashin' blindly... ye gots ta goo fer th' josee bits--- th' head, heart and loin..."

"Sadly," he says as he draws back and hurls his hammer at the foremost skeleton. "We be stuck a' potshots fer th' moment at these buggers an' wot I sai' earl'er be naught but a metaphor, who-er apt i' mae be"

[Regord_Silentflame]

But the main reason why I am reluctant to use my limited powers just now is the fear that there might be enemies that are able to overcome the bounds of the wall which we need to fight. If we are to defend the city and ourselves, we should consider this possibility as well.

Oh, what ever would give you that idea? :smallbiggrin:


your efforts down many skeletons, but sadly there are so many, they just fill in the gaps, and continue on. Luckily though, the trap catches them, and they fall down into the pit, and as they flail, they catch others, sending them crashing down.


Alright, everyone make spot checks.
Cyreon: it's a move action to order your animal companion, and a move action to get up, you can take another action.
Plumm: you can get on a building kind of close to the wall (5-10 feet away) that'll be high enough to let you see. Otherwise, you could try a balance check to put youself on the gates.
Also, you can get out and run around if you want, none of them have bypassed your trap.

[Silkenfist]

Some spot checks:

Cyreon: [roll0]
Cali: [roll1]

Of course Cali's roll is only relevant if whatever she sees will cause her to react in any notable way.

[Miraqariftsky]

Again and again, Vingsturr's trusty dwarven arrow flashes from hand to foe, thrumming through the air in deadly arcs of stone and steel yet in his heart he knows that this is but a poor imitation of the true Swifthammer for which his sires had sought.


[roll0] Spot

[MountainKing]

Sadness, I don't even have a modifier to Spot...
[roll0]

[Miraqariftsky]

"Have a' ye, blasted bonebaggen blighters!" Vingsturr yells as his warhammer crashes through the ribcages of two skeletons that had made it to the ramparts. Sputtering against the shower of bone shards, he shoves the larger weapon back into his belt and steps back a bit, heaving high his dwarven arrow, making ready to hurl it again...

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

"You know, this really is getting wort of pointless..." After launching his initial blast, Simon realized how useless such paltry efforts were. Instead he pulled out a book and started jotting down notes on how the undead were handling the pit.

HP: 36/36
AC: 17
Initiative: 6
Status: +4 on attack/damage rolls vs undead (Knowledge Devotion)
Spells left: 1/5/1

[roll0]

[Regord_Silentflame]

Alright, with the undead just falling into the pits last round, that was nothing useful, so we'll start at the beginning of intiative this time, something useful will happen now.

Those of you who passed your spot checks (I sent PMs, so if you didn't get one, you didn't pass), you're allowed a free action before initiative starts.

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon twitches. He had watched the Undead's assault calmly, but something caused him to rise to his feet quickly. He picks up his staff and point to a place somewhere amidst the mass of Zombies. Something is coming. He points an open hand into the air, muttering a quick prayer as minute turbulences ripple through the air above. Something airborne.

Call Lightning as soon as I get the opportunity. I'll decide whether or not to throw a bolt when it is time.

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon twitches. He had watched the Undead's assault calmly, but something caused him to rise to his feet quickly. He picks up his staff and point to a place somewhere amidst the mass of Zombies. Something is coming. He points an open hand into the air, muttering a quick prayer as minute turbulences ripple through the air above. Something airborne.

Call Lightning as soon as I get the opportunity. I'll decide whether or not to throw a bolt when it is time.

[MountainKing]

"Uh... you know, I see it too, Cyreon..." Robilard began to put his lute away as he shouted, "Everyone without a weapon... GET INSIDE!"

[Miraqariftsky]

"Vai, whot?!" Vingsturr sputters over the din of battle.

The dwarven warrior readies his hammer for throwing, his right arm pumped well back like the tail of a scorpion. "Errbourne, ye say? Wharra? I see naught but walkin' corpses! Gimme somma lighten, comrade, whar be it?"

[Silkenfist]

The Druid concentrates, trying to focus his eyes on the shape he had seen earlier. I am not entirely sure what it is. It looks like a bat only...larger. Let's be ready should it come for us.

[Regord_Silentflame]

(Is anyone going to do anything for this round of initiative, or should I just move on?)

[Silkenfist]

(I mentioned something along the lines of Call Lightning, if I have the Standard Action)

[Regord_Silentflame]

(Yes you do, and did. I meant it as a general question)

[MountainKing]

Robilard is shouting at the villagers if there are any nearby, and readying his shortbow if he can.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

Plumm is still on the ground inside the wall, and conseqently can't see over it. He calmly strings his miniature longbow as he listens to the druid's reasoning and the others' plans for battle. When he hears the warning about the giant bat, he brightens. "To victory!" He shouts, raising his bow over his head and jumping back aboard Gruffix. Together, dog and gnome scramble up a stack of barrels onto the roof of one of the houses near the wall.

((Regord: I'm assuming there's at least one house I can get onto without a jump or climb check.))

Once up I'll make a Spot as a free action:

[roll0]

If I see the bat thing I will launch an arrow at it, no matter how far away it might be:

[roll1]
[roll2]

Plumm also lets out a gleeful chuckle when he sees that the undead are falling into his pit trap outside the wall.

[Regord_Silentflame]

Simon, Vingsturr, anything for this round?
btw, Plumm, you can see it, but your arrow was far off.

[Miraqariftsky]

Vingsturr doffs his bronze helmet and drops it to his feet then wipes the sweat and hair away from his eyes. Seeing Plumm loose at something in the distance, he squints that way and makes ready to hurl his hammer it the flyer once it comes within range. "Aha! Yon's tha blighter! Commaon, bugger, yost a li'l bit closer!"


Ready action to hurl the hammer once flyer is within range. Ready action to draw waraxe when it buzzes the ramparts.
[roll0]
[roll1]

[Another_Poet]

((How far off is this thing?))

Plumm waits a moment and looses another arrow at it.
d1d20+7
[roll0]

[Another_Poet]

sorry, broken attack roll code....
[roll0]

[Regord_Silentflame]

(It's rather close, only 50ft or so.
Right now I'm just giving Simon another 6 hours or so to post, and then if he doesn't we'll move on without him)

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

"I'm sorry Vingsturr, what was that? I'm afraid I was too caught up in watching the zombies struggle with the trap."

HP: 36/36
AC: 17
Initiative: 6
Status: +4 on attack/damage rolls vs undead (Knowledge Devotion)
Spells left: 1/5/1

[Regord_Silentflame]

The Creature flies out from the skeletons, and then Vingsturr takes his chance, hurling his hammer at the creature, hitting it straight in the face, and it dropped down, and crashing into the wall, splintering the gate.

A few seconds later, the rest of the horde reaches the wall as well, pounding ineffectually at the wood.

Enemy: -6 hp

(Your turn Robilard)

[Miraqariftsky]

"Haharr, gotcha, ya batted bogaras!" Vingsturr yells triumphantly as his hammer hits true and knocks the creature out of the sky. "Come back to me, ya Clangeddin-kissed weapon!" he says as he holds out his gauntleted hand and calls his hammer back.

Turning to Simon, he says, "Naw, I just smashed a flying daemon ootta tha skie, laddie, nuthin' ta warry yer scholerly heid aboot"

[Another_Poet]

Plumm

"Unless you have a charm that makes arrows fly straight!" Plumm almost-bellows from the roof above.

[MountainKing]

"Y'know, gents, I've a confession to make. I'm all well and good for valor and heroism, but, I don't think these walls are going to hold... there's a thousand undead out there if there's ten, and... well, there's a lot of people in this town who're about to find out that being dinner isn't pleasant. We need to get them out of here!"

[Silkenfist]

Then we will have to make them hold. Cyreon answers the Bard while crawling towards the damaged gate. I am afraid there will be no way for the townspeople to leave the city. Think of the children or the elderly who surely can't outrun these creatures. If they leave the confines of the wall they are likely to fall victim to the horde. He bends down trying to look at the ground beneath the feet of the approaching horde. I wager our chance are better to just hold that breach as long as we have to.

Change of plans. I'll use the Lightning as soons as I have it available to destroy the Undead that are closest to the gate. Also, I'd like to inspect the vegetation around the gate. Is there enough for me to make Entangle work?

[Regord_Silentflame]

Is there enough for me to make Entangle work?

Yes, I usually give a lot of leeway, and for spells like that, as long as there COULD be enough, there is.

[Another_Poet]

Plumm fires an arrow randomly into the horde. (Not gonna bother rolling it :)

[MountainKing]

The following post is made under the assumption that Robilard has proven his proficiency with knowledge {religion} checks to know that to kill zombies, you need something that's not so much stabby, and really not thumpy, but definitely slashy. That's how basic I'm putting his level of understanding.

"Well, master Cyreon," Robilard gulped, "I will do what I can... if anyone has perhaps a good, sturdy dagger, or even a noble longsword, I can join the melee... but otherwise, I will have to remain back, and do what I may with my music." With that, Robilard brought his lute to bear, and without further ado, he put his thus far formidable lute playing skills to work.

We're going to be going with Inspire Courage on this one. Let's hope it helps.

Perform check: [roll0]

[Regord_Silentflame]

The following post is made under the assumption that Robilard has proven his proficiency with knowledge {religion} checks to know that to kill zombies, you need something that's not so much stabby, and really not thumpy, but definitely slashy. That's how basic I'm putting his level of understanding.

We're going to be going with Inspire Courage on this one. Let's hope it helps.

Perform check: [roll0]

Yeah, you do know that for most people, unless you have a slashing weapon, it's not worth attacking.

Unless I'm mistaken, you don't need to roll the perform check for bardic music.

[MountainKing]

OOC: Apparently it's only some uses of bardic music that you have to, but I rolled it anyhow, because... well, from my perspective, it's a measure of how good his music sounds, and that's one of the important aspects of Robilard.

[Regord_Silentflame]

The creature digs it's talons into the ground, and hauls its self back to it's feet, and lunges forward, crashing into the gates once more, causing them to break further.

Several skeletons have begun a similar action, slamming into the gates instead of just clawing uselessly at the walls.

(alright, everyone gets another action)

[Miraqariftsky]

"HARRERRED HELLSTEETH!" Vingsturr swears and races down the ramparts and makes his way to the gates. Tucking his light hammer into his wide belt, his waraxe comes forth in a flash of sharpened steel and he holds it high, ready to repel. "Gi' some waggon here or sumfink ta block 'em with! Plumm, to me! We'll hold 'em off!"

[MountainKing]

Robilard looked about, swinging his lute artfully as he turned to see if he could espy something suitable...

Robilard's Spot check: [roll0]

...whilst all the while maintaining his vibrant music, which filled the heart with memories of elders telling tales of great heroism and reknown, inspiring the bard and his friends to greater courage and daring.

That would be a continuation of my aforementioned Inspire Courage.

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

Simon took notice with a start as the creature started to bash into the walls. "Oh dear, this won't do! Why look, even some of the skeletons are picking up on it's tactics!" With that he takes a jab at the creature that fell from the sky.

HP: 36/36
AC: 17
Initiative: 6
Status: +4 on attack/damage rolls vs undead (Knowledge Devotion), +1 Inspire Courage
Spells left: 5/6/3

Move Action: Get to where I need to be to attack if needed.
Standard Action: Attack the creature with my Guisarme.

[roll0]
[roll1]
Power Attack for 4.

I'm assuming the bat thing is undead. If it's not, subtract 12 from the damage, and tell me which knowledge check I need to make for it's type.

Edit: Yeah, I guessed as much. rolled a 3 >_< Ouch.

[Regord_Silentflame]

(Simon: Yes, the creature is definately undead, it's a zombie. To know what the base creature is though, someone would need to make an arcana check. also, sorry but your attack missed)

(Robilard: you see plenty of buildings that are large enough to block the gates, if you could find out how to move them)

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon sees the creature rise and stifles a curse. Standing on the wall just next to the gate, he concentrates on the electricity surging through the clouds above and channels them towards his target. Don't we have any more bars to reinforce the gate? His voice almost breaks as the first bolt of lightning comes down from above.

Why is the flying thing standing again? Doesn't matter, I'll throw some lightning at it:

[roll0]

[Regord_Silentflame]

(alright, I think everyone took an action, if I forgot anyone, sorry, just post 2 actions for this next round)

The zombie opens it's decaying maw, letting out a low roar, and lunging at the gate, clamping it's yellowed teeth on a wooden board, and tearing it off, leaving a gaping hole in the wall.

One of the skeletons pushes past the others and starts to crawl through the hole, it's glowing red eyes staring blankly at Plumm.

Zombie: -15
Alright, another action for everyone!

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

Simon curses as the ripped out board blocks his aim, and swings again.

HP: 36/36
AC: 17
Initiative: 6
Status: +4 on attack/damage rolls vs undead (Knowledge Devotion), +1 Inspire Courage
Spells left: 5/6/3

Standard Action: Attack the creature with my Guisarme.

[roll0]
[roll1]
Power Attack for 5.

If the Skeleton is provoked/provokes an AoO:

[roll2]
[roll3]
Power Attack for 5.

EDIT: OK, it's clear the dice hate me today. :smallsigh: And I'm assuming the bat thing is at least Large, yes?

[Regord_Silentflame]

Yes, it's large

[Miraqariftsky]

Attack roll [roll0] Power-Attacking for an extra four points
[roll1] damage from waraxe

Lesson? Power Attack only when possessing great advantage.


"Baruk ai Khazad! Dharok mar dalan! Kharos ai ghelmrad!" Vingsturr yells in his mother tongue and then swings his axe at the monstrosity bashing through the gate. He rushes forward with a mighty swing, nearly trips on a rock and misses wide.

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon fails to see what happened to the gate, but the sound of ripping wood could not be misinterpreted. The arcs ripping through the clouds find their target once more as he lets out a violent shout, his brown facial hair standing almost upright in the thick charged air.

3d6-5

Factoring in assumed damage reduction

[Silkenfist]

Oops.

Rolling Now: [roll0]

[Another_Poet]

((The zombie looks at Plumm? You realise he's on the roof of one of the houses, right?))

Plumm stands in his stirrups and faces the breach in the wall, lifting his hands and his voice. The winding road of Farlanghn has clearly been tattooed on the palm of both hands, and as his voice booms over the fray the symbol begins to glow.

[roll0]

[roll1]

[Another_Poet]

So this turning affects 6 HD undead or lower. It affects up to 12 HD worth. Any of them with only 2 HD or less are destroyed instead of turned.

On the second round, Plumm will repeat (I didn't take an action in the previous round so, as per your instructions, am taking two now.)

[roll0]

[roll1]

Edit: so the second round of turning affects undead with 9 HD or less, up to 16 HD total, and any with 2 HD or less are destroyed.

[MountainKing]

Robilard's playing continued, but with no suitable weaponry, and no cart to be seen, the bard feels a little helpless. Without regard, he continued to play, whispering quiet prayers to... well, any goodly god who felt like listening at the moment.

Play a level five game, they said! See the world, they said! Now I'm stuck as a bard with these undead!

Oh, and everyone, make sure you're adding your Inspire Courage bonuses to your combat stuff; it's pretty much all Robilard has to contribute. :smallfrown:

[Regord_Silentflame]

Zombie: -31

Plumm: Yes, he was looking at you, you were the only one not on the gate, thus being the only one not straight above him. At least I believe so, it doesn't really matter anymore.

You killed it, and you killed the closest 28 skeletons nearest the cracked gate. The only creature that remains as a threat is the zombie.

[Regord_Silentflame]

Unless I'm mistaken, everyone's had an action this round, so now to start again


The Zombie tosses the bit of wood in it's jaws effortlessly to the side, and glares upward, at the creature swinging a long blade at it, and it lets out what was probably intended as a growl, but only comes out as a low gurggle, and then he snapped at it.


Attack to Simon
[roll0]
[roll1] Damage

[Regord_Silentflame]

Poor Simon

[roll0] Crit Confirmation
[roll1] Crit Damage


The Zombie's strike rings true, it's jaws clamping down on one of Simon's arms, rotting, broken teeth sinking into skin and tearing away at sinew and muscle, nearly wrenching the limb from his body.

[Miraqariftsky]

[roll0] single-point PA
[roll1] waraxe damage


Vingsturr's whoop of joy chokes into a gasp of dismay as he sees the beast bite into his comrade, nearly rending him asunder. The dwarf charges forward, knowing that he has little in the way of Simon's sword-skill yet still he moves in, bringing the heavy head of his axe to bear upon the loathesome creature...

[Another_Poet]

Plumm
Plumm Cobbler (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheets/view.php?id=48615)
HP 46/46, AC 21 (19 charge), Touch 12 (10), Flat-footed 21 (19)
Fort +10, Ref +5, Will +7,

Gruffox, riding dog (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/monsters/dogRiding.htm)
13/13 hp
AC: 21 (+2 Dex, +4 natural, +5 barding), touch 12, flat-footed 19

Seeing that the strength of his faith alone is not enough to end this zombie, Plumm had already leveled his lance and grabbed his dog's reins. But when he sees the bard so savagely torn into he claps his feet to his steed's sides and makes an all-out charge off of the roof...

((Regord, is that okay (I'm picturing 10' drop, no damage) or do I need to roll something?))

Bracing his lance he skewers the intruder...
[roll0] +1 bard +2 charge +4 smite evil
[roll1] +1 bard, +5 smite, x3 spirited charge w/ lance
(& if you want to add +2 for flank to the attack roll, I don't mind :smallsmile: )

[roll2] Result replaces dog's AC if higher than his normal AC (currently 19 with the -2 from the charge)

[roll3]
[roll4]

[MammonAzrael]

Simon

Simon cries out in pain as the creature lands a vicious blow, it's teeth sawing through his arm. He manages to pull away and retreat to a safer location to tend to the horrific wound.

HP: 23/36
AC: 17
Initiative: 6
Status: +4 on attack/damage rolls vs undead (Knowledge Devotion), +1 Inspire Courage
Spells left: 5/6/3

5' step away from the creature.
Standard Action: Activate my Healing Belt for 1 charge.

[roll0]

OoC: I can't hit it, and it just rolls 2 20s on me. talk about adding insult to injury. :smallfurious:

[Regord_Silentflame]

For Plumm.

Plumm, a couple of things.
1: Your mount will have to make a jump check to get over the gate to the zombie.

2: Because you're making a charging "fall", your mount's going to have a harder time when it lands, so it's going to have to make a reflex save, or your choice of a balance check or tumble check. If your mount fails, he'll fall prone. If your mount passes the reflex/tumble, but not a balance check, you'll have to make a fortitude save against nonlethal damage from being rolled on.

3: Luckily for you, you get a +1 bonus to your attack for higher ground, otherwise you'd have missed.

4: After your charge, you're going to have to decide which side of the creature to be on, you can either be on it's side (I'll roll randomly to decide which side of it the house was on), or you can be in front of it, between it and the gate.

P.S. I'm sorry for taking all the lucky d20 rolls, I guess it's karma's way of getting back for Plumm destroying the rest of the encounter :smallbiggrin:

[Another_Poet]

((I'm confused; I thought the zombie had broken the gate? Can't I hit him w/o crossing the wall?))

[MountainKing]

"By the gods," Robilard breathed, his fingers nearly fumbling on the strings of his lute. Moving quickly (possibly still under the effects of his Expeditious Retreat spell?), the bard moved to Simon's side, his lute playing continuing even as the bard sang softly, uttering words of healing passed on from bard to bard over time. Strumming a note strongly, he let it echo to give him time to reach out and gingerly touch the mauled arm, causing the wound to glow slightly, before the magic began to stitch it back together. As the glowing subsided, Robilard's music picked up once more, filled with renewed vigor.

Move and cast Cure Light Wounds on Simon, and continue my Inspire Courage.

[Regord_Silentflame]

((I'm confused; I thought the zombie had broken the gate? Can't I hit him w/o crossing the wall?))

The Zombie broke a hole in the gate, not the entire gate, and Vingsturr charged it first, so he's blocking your attack through the hole, so the only way is over the gate.

[Silkenfist]

Cyreon notices Cali arching her back to lunge forward and attack the zombie. He presses down on her shoulder softly, holding her back. No. They are well armored and can hold. Attack only if the thing comes through the gate. His voice becomes increasingly distorted as even more arcs bolt down from the heavens.

As a free action, Handle Animal to convince Cali to wait with an attack until the zombie is inside the city. Then, ready an action to send another bolt of lightning into the zombie as soon as none of Cyreons allies is in contact with it.