The forgotten forge (3.5)

[Aquateenflayer]

Sharn, the city of towers. A monument of civilizations taming of nature. It’s towers reach unnaturally high into the skies thanks to the effects of a minor planar breach. While ranked as one of the greatest cities of Khovare on this particular night there is no place you wouldn’t rather be.

Nights in the Towering city are plagued with the parasites of society who come to prey upon the naive and the greedy. Rats as big as dogs can be seen on the edges of your vision dragging scraps of trash into the shadows. The muffled screams that can often be heard in the distance are disturbingly not always followed by the shrill whistle of the watch.

The scholars said that tonight is the first time since the start of the last war that Kythri, the plane of chaos, is coterminous to Eberron, which has set the upper class to worrying. As for the rest of the population, they seem to more concerned with the horrible storm that has settled over Breeland. Despite rather ominous portents of late Sharn has been packed to the gills with travelers since the announcement of the famous Brothers Scorned, Mathis ir’Phiarlan and Wathren ir’Thuranni have put aside their differences to perform a benefits concert in Kavarrath Concert Hall to aid the Widows and Orphans of New Cyre.

With all of the inns and boarding houses full you find yourself wandering the streets of Sharn seeking shelter from the storm. Your clothes are soaked and the wind whips violently through you causing shivers to course down your spine. Roomers of kindly people offering shelter has driven you to Chelsea Spire. Dizzyingly high and still not the top Middle Dura is a district where many a traveler have met their untimely demise at the end of a silent blade. A complex lattice work of crisscrossing bridges and interloping balconies connecting towers form the walkways of Sharn where you now wander. Other desperate individuals can be seen in the distance knocking upon doors looking for a place to stay.

OOC: Pease include a breif description of your char in your first post and pick a color to put all of your dialogue in.

[Cymru]

Martin shivers 'cause of the rain, mumbles to himself "Damn barren cold rain, and just tonight I cannot seem to find shelter. I should have stayed in the temple district.. Always a place for a cleric in a house of worship.. But no, damn fool...". Looking at nearby door he continues; "I could always try just to... You cannot deny entrance to a holy servant of Dol Dorn can you?".

He knocks on the first door he reaches, and once it opens adresses the person, "Dear sir/madam, I'm looking for a shelter for the night. All taverns are full, and the weather is gasthly. Could you shelter a servant of Dol Dorn, just for one night? I can protect and pray for you, seeking the wisdom and power of Dol Dorn the Just"

After saying that he bows low.

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Martin is a tall, well built human. With short spiky blond hair, and brilliant blue eyes. Wearing his scale mail whenever possible, on his back is a heavy steel shield, engraved with the symbol of Dol Dorn, and at this side a longsword. Those who watch closely can see a silver symbol of Dol Dorn dangling from his wrist.

[Arq Kujos]

The poured down hard on the young man walking through Sharn. His blond hair hung around his head, and his clothes were soaked through. He slowly made his way to Chelsea Spire. So far, there had been no rooms available. He knocked on a few doors, but no one answered.

Then, a little ways ahead, he saw a man bowing. This confused him, but when he saw the symbol of Dol Dorn hanging from the man, he knew right away that he was a servant of his lord. He made his way to the door. "Greetings. Could you spare a room for me and my friend?" He held up a gold coin in an offer to pay for the room.

*Are you a servant of Hyroneous or Dol Dorn? I'm confused.*

[Cymru]

* I had forgotten that Eberron has other deities... So now I am a servant of Dol Dorn instead of Hyroneous..*

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Harper isn't the only person excited about the concert, but might well be the only one so consumed with anticipation as to stand outside in the rain all night to wait for it. Warforged (or Druids for that matter) are never particularly dependent on the comforts of the indoors, but then they don't usually have much of an appreciation for music either, so no competition there.

Even so, the wait does take some degree of dedication. Harper isn't quite as sturdy as most other mini-golems, and this is easy to see. This is one of the Warforged that was made at the end of a long evening, when the creation forge was running out of its daily mojo and starting to go light on the musculature.

To help offset the local dull vibe, he hums to himself and softly strums a little mood music on his lute to go with the weather.

Hmmmmm... da, daaaaaaaa...

Not a big fan of lyrics - they can attach a strict, artificial meaning to an otherwise perfect piece.

The instrument looks almost as though it could still be attached to the tree it came from; its strings seem out of place, yet remain entirely necessary to its being. As such, the lute is an excellent reflection of its owner.

Grizzly, on the other hand, isn't quite so enthused. The exceedingly friendly brown fuzzball of a dog, though born and raised in the wild, is quite open to the notion of looking for shelter when it rains. This is something that dogs just naturally do for survival.

So, upon seeing an open door, Grizzly does something else that comes naturally to dogs: he sits nearby, staring wide-eyed at the person inside, whimpering just softly enough to be completely pathetic yet just loudly enough to be easily heard from across the street.

[WillWolf]

Xandur

He was cold. In the It wasn't the cold that bothered him so much as being wet, because coldness could go away; being wet made his furs stink and soaked through his cotton. It made him vulnurble to being ill, and besides, he didn't like the looks of this place; not a place to sleep outside. Having very few possesions in this world; he decided it was best to seek some shelter for the night. Seeing a group of people already surrounding an inn keeper, he guessed that the man had some rooms to rent.

He strode on and stood in the back, stoically, and wordless. He did give the occasional glare to the warforged (not understanding that he was a sentient being) but otherwise did nothing, except sort of grunt a little.

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Xandur of the Bear Clan is a five foot four human. He has large scars on his face, but they look clean and neat as if he were ritually scarred rather than a battle scar. He has brown eyes and black hair which is scruffy and medium length, but in oppertunely cut. He is dressed in furs (deer to be specific) but also is currently wearing studded armor. He has a cape, it's not particularly long, which is also drenched. He wears brown cotton pants and kneehigh boots, though he seems to have some trouble walking in them on the cobblestone. Across his back is an old blood stained great axe. Whenever he is spoken to he stares directly at them, awkwardly so.

[Aquateenflayer]

The door finally opens enough for you to get a glimpse of the man who opened it. A stout dwarf wearing the black cloak of the City Watch scowls at the dog whimpering at his feat. Get back ya bloody vagrants. There's hardly any room ta stand in here as it is. Get yer gods to find you some shelter. And you warforged, what are you doing looking for shelter ya can' even feel the cold. He angerly slams the door in your collective faces.

The small amount of heat that came from the when the door opened only served to remind you how cold you all are. A flash of lighting illuminates the streets for a moment. Across the way you notice a tavern letting in a group of halflings and their dinosaur mounts after a bit of coin changed hands.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Harper suddenly stops strumming upon hearing the commotion. To be honest, she wasn't paying very close attention.

"Who? Me? I wasn't..."

*AFOREMENTIONED DOOR SLAM!*

It would be at this point that she notices the small crowd of people that seems to have formed outside of the dwarf's residence, as well as Grizzly, tail between his legs and head lowered in disappointment.

"Ohhh, I see," Harper says. Stowing her lute, she walks up behind the two clerics and puts her arms around their shoulders. "Well, nuts to him, then, eh? We'll just take this party somewhere else and make sure that jerk misses out. Now, let's see..."

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Harper's first response would normally be to set up a tent for the distressed travelers; there's a reason that Grizzly wears those funny saddlebags. In this case, what she really wants to do is set up camp in the middle of a nearby bridge and make sure that everyone notices it, just to further piss off this one guard... but then, these two looked like they might not be fans of that idea.

Then she notices the tavern door scene. It's obviously a plot hook, but more than that, it's an opportunity to mess with the greedy proprietors, make her dog happy, and help out a few random strangers in the process. Sweet!

Harper looks from the tavern to each of the clerics in turn, her eyes displaying a gleam of excitement that one would hardly expect from others of her kind.

"Let's go!"

[Cymru]

Martin starts as the door slams closed "That's rude...", and falls to ackward silence. As Harper turns up, "Okay, yeh, I might go along", then shaking his coinpurse; "Haven't got a gold on me though".

*raises shoulders in apology*

[WillWolf]

Xandur:

Xandur, who dislike having to give a whop load of gold to a dwarf with a bad attidue; decided to simply wait outside. Well the others seemed to be going somewhere, and this warforged seemed to be offering them some place to go, so he decided to try it out. If worse came to worse he would simply kill them all.

And so he blankly followed suit.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Okay, yeh, I might go along..."

*Distinct lack of coins rattling*

"Haven't got a gold on me, though."

Harper grins - well, you think it might be a grin, it's hard to tell - and dismisses this issue with wave of his hand. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," he says. Barring any outside prevention, he walks up to the tavern door and gives it a few knocks.

[Cymru]

Martin looks around at the people now gathering and starts "Well, if we are going to find shelter together, we might as well introduce ourselves." He then slaps a hand to his chest in salute "I'm Martin DenBerg, protector of the holy Dol Dorn. A healing and fighting cleric in his holy name" He then looks pointedly at the other clerical figure. "It seems to me you are a fighter in the name of the divine Dol Dorn too, but I sense you haven't had the precise training to be a cleric yet? Tell me your name and story, Friend"

*In his speech you notice he is very formally trained in speechcraft. The extra capitals he really manages to pronounce as capitals*

[Arq Kujos]

Ral seemed pleased to be noticed. No, I am not a cleric. I was chosen directly by Dol Dorn to be his voice and his hand in this world. Unlike you, my brother, I have no formal training. Ever ounce of power I possess comes from our god's own will and my training comes from experiencing the world around me, not dusty tomes or dark libraries. He stopped for a moment and smiled, seemingly pleased with his words, but then he remembered to actually introduce himself. My apologies. I am Ral of the village of Kaine. Ral's speech was very similar to himself, raw and unrefined. His clothes were dirty and his hair was shaggy. He seemed very much like a farmer in armor, wandering around. But to those with a more magical sense, he glowed with a divine aura very similar to Martin's. He then turned to the warforged. Wow, I've never meet a warforged before. He placed one hand on mechanical being, just wanting to prove to himself that it really existed. He quickly withdrew his hand and then presented it to the warforged for a handshake. Greetings friend. Who are you?



*Ral is just your average hick farmer turned servant of god. *

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Ah, yes," Harper takes Ral's hand and bows. "My name is Harper. The rest you will figure out easily enough sooner or later, but as a hint, I apologize in advance for being a generally misleading example of what most Warforged are like."

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Releasing Ral's hand, she also considers taking the opportunity to poke fun at their belief in and worship of certain one-dimensional mythological characters, but the unfortunate implications and potential loss of party cohesion doesn't seem worth it.

The dog stands under the nearest awning and shakes off, getting water droplets everywhere. Seeing as it's still raining and everyone is already drenched, this makes little difference.

"Oh, haha! Everyone: my companion, Grizzly, purebred mongrel and Big Strong Guuy! Yeah!" The point in the introduction at which Harper bends down to pet Grizzly and scratch him behind the ears should be pretty obvious. Soon, though, Grizzly starts tugging and pointing his nose to indicate the muscular fellow with the furs in the background.

Harper looks up at the stout figure. "You've been quiet," she says as she gets to her feet. "Well, the rest of us have been introduced, so I guess it's your turn now. What shall we call you?"

[WillWolf]

Xandur:

Xandur waited patiently whilst the group continued to go on. He really had nothing to say to this whole situation. All he wanted was a nice cozy place to sleep and since the group was doing the same, was just following them. They looked like they were used to getting rooms in the city of Towers, he was not.

"I am Xandur" was all he said in a very thick accent. "I do not believe in your gods." He said very nonchalantly and straightforwardly, not directing it to anyone there, but since he knew that the men were sizing each other up on the basis; he decided to follow suit, politely. "I work as mercenary." And that was all he said.

[Aquateenflayer]

Grizzly suddenly shoots forward to a nearby bridge and begins to howl. Then he runs back to the party then runs back to the bridge. As you approach you find what the dog wanted you to see, a dead body.
The corpse of an elderly man with a gash across his neck. The wound is still bleeding but the rain is cleaning the bridge faster than the red liquid can stain it. He is still clinging to a large brown satchel a hand clenched tightly around the strap.

[Cymru]

"Oh for the love of Dol Dorn!", Martin swears for not paying attention, and hurries over to the body, whether to check it's really dead. Then starts "Someone died on us out here. See any guards around?". In the meanwhile nervously looking around.

Spoiler

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spot/search for a guard or killer
"spot" - (1d20+2)[19]
"search" - (1d20)[12]

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Grizzly? Grizzly! What are you - ooh."

"Someone died on us out here. See any guards around?"

"Screw the guards. They'll probably just ask us questions that we don't have answers for. This guy's throat must have been slit just now." Harper turns to the dog for help in planning their next move. "What did you see, Grizzly? What happened? Do you know where it went? Can you smell anything?"

Grizzly continues to pant and stare dumbly at his druid friend.

"Of course." Harper sighs, unable to help smiling a little. "...I knew I should've prepared 'Speak with Animals' this morning."

[Cymru]

Martin looks at Harper; "I know you're not very fond of cities, civilization and stuff... But we are in a city here... Which basically means the guards know what's happening, and need to be informed by conciderate citizens like us..."

Martin sighs.... "Sorry, don't want to lecture you... Let me just say a prayer for this man, while you lot check around us for guards or the possible attacker..."

Martin folds the hand of the dead man, laying the brown satchel aside. Tries to pose the body in a respectfull pose. Martin closes his hands over the dead man's hands, closes his eyes and starts muttering "O mighty Dol Dorn...."

[WillWolf]

Xandur:

Xandur wasn't exactly sure what was going on. People died all the time, very little attention was given by complete strangers to their well being unless it was somehow seen as a gift from 'the gods' so to speak. And so Xandur just looked down stone faced; if he could avenge this man he would, it would be apropriate, but quite frankly; he doubted that the guards would give a ---- about him.

Still looking for someone sounded good.

Spoiler

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Spot check: (1d20+1)[20]

If search is more appropriate, just take the final roll and minus two.

[Aquateenflayer]

Martin and Xandur scan the darkness for possible suspects seeing only their new heavily armed companions getting drenched in the rain.

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Everyone please make your listen checks.

[Cymru]

"listen" - (1d20+2)[19]

Martin listens for sounds...

[Arq Kujos]

(1d20+2)[17]

Rol perked up his ears and scanned the area.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

{"Hey! Listen! Hey! Hey! Hey! Listen! Hey! Watch out!"}

{Harper: (1d20)[11] +2(wisdom)}

{Grizzly, just for fun: (1d20)[7] +5 (or so the MM says)}

[WillWolf]

Listencheck: (1d20-1)[14]

[Aquateenflayer]

Rol and Martin hear metal scraping on stone coming dircetly bellow you. The noise moves to the side of the bridge. With the heavy rain making such a racket it is of no surprise the others don't notice the odd noise.

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Rol and Martin roll your initiative checks.

[Arq Kujos]

"What in the name of Dol Dorn is that?" Rol exclaims, drawing his sword.

(1d20+1)[18]

[Cymru]

"I hear trouble", Martin starts... Loosens his shield, and draws his longsword.

(1d20-1)[8]

[Aquateenflayer]

"Die blood lover!" A Cloaked figure jumps onto the bridge between Harper and Ral. A gleaming bastard sword Slams into the warforged's ironwood frame and pulls it out with the sound of splintering wood. Leaving a nasty gash across the warforged the figure now crouches in a defensive position.

Spoiler

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Harper takes 6 damage

Initiative order
Mysterious Assailant
Rol
Martin

[Arq Kujos]

(Since he is between Harper and I, am I flanking him? If not, Rol will move to flank him and attack)

"Die, Villain!" Rol will move to flank his foe, and then strike at him from behind.

Attack Roll: (1d20+2)[19]
Damage Roll: (1d8+2)[7]