[3.5] Ryclend Deephold

[Gryndel]

Stories of Ryclend Deephold were told all over the land. It was originally the home of Ryclend the Relentless, the first true noble in a vast land of wilderness dotted only by sparse civilization. The noble warrior, stout of heart and active in justice, built a castle above a natural cistern as a base to eradicate evil and establish a society based on law. Sir Ryclend perished while exploring the depths of his own home, unknowingly constructed atop layers of ancient civilizations and natural underground environments.

His son Leomand, who became the first King, finished the castle and sealed off the dungeons. The King focused on the land outside the castle and those who dwelt there, promoting the basis of modern society today. He eradicated most internal threats to a civil society, and ensured security form external threats by sponsoring the construction of castles and fortified towns. Many of these can still be seen amidst the cities and towns known now, and some few are constantly upgraded and still used as homes by local nobles.

Many generations passed, wars, famine, invasion by all manner of hordes, and changes in environment both natural and otherwise, have altered much of the land. But Ryclend Deephold remains, albeit in ruins, generally known today atop the aptly named Death Knoll. Tales of adventurous forays within typically end in horrific disaster, usually relayed, and likely enhanced, by bards who claim to have met a survivor or their offspring. Those who dare take up this risky challenge typically meet at Greenhorn Hall, a fabulous Inn located at a major crossroads in the Kingdom.

Right in the middle of what is now only a quaint and modest farming village called Thifton, which is several miles from Death Knoll. Thifton was once a thriving metropolis, destroyed in a series of wars, and rebuilt around the only surviving structure; Greenhorn Hall. Originally built by a family of elves and a pair of dwarf twins, the Inn would take an hour to describe with any justice. The current proprietors are Elduin Elkinor (Elf wizard) during the day, and Bukrohm Orcsplitter (dwarf cleric) during the night. A vast staff consists mostly of young locals, who assist this pair at all hours in shifts. They're also aided by the ever present yet rarely detected Unseen Servants, minor elementals, and Fairies.

The main road cut directly through Thifton, stretching through the hills to the east and west. Greenhorn Hall was constructed on the east corner of where the south road began. The road to the west was used much more often than the east route for various reasons. Primarily, there was little to the east beyond some farmsteads and wilderness, and some ruins - including Ryclend Deephold. The south road was the most recent and well traveled.

The high hills and valleys around town were populated and well guarded, and many boasted famous vineyards and orchards. Beyond this, and the roads to east and south, was a vast expanse of wilderness in the shadow of the distant high north mountains.

Traveling east to Ryclend was always risky, though some few brave locals took it upon themselves to visit homesteads occasionally and ostensibly patrol the lonely road.

You find yourself sitting inside Greenhorn Hall, for whatever reason, interested in seeking something in the depths of Ryclend...

[Gryndel]

"How many hours, have I waited... for you?
Morning will shine with new bright hope once again.

Across the open plains, searching ever for the light,
Its off in the distance, up and straight to the right.

Holding hands, through the darkness... people wondered.
Distant heirs, down through the ages, will ask of you.

What happened to our world here, and was it ever new?
The nightmare of millions, is finally coming true.

Where is our sun...

And there we see, what we want to see... in the darkness.
And emotion is our only warmth, where is our son?"

A hauntingly lilting voice accompanied a complex flow of chords played on a guitar as the master bard played one the crowd's favorites in the waning hours of the day. Empty tables were rare inside the large common room of Greenhorn Hall, and often empty seats were hard to come by during performances and meal times.

Many patrons were locals, some regular customers. But the majority were always passing through to other destinations, or resting before returning home after some merchant delivery.

[Gryndel]

Quijol, Drynch, and Sir Strohn

A trio sat at a table in the far left corner, next to the bar against the back wall, where a heated debate took place. An elf in a dark green robe sat with a patient expression as he gazed between a dwarf in full plate armor who argued with a tall human in plate armor. From their equipment it was fairly easy to discern that the elf was an arcane caster of some kind, the dwarf was a war priest, and the human was some sort of knight.

The dwarf seemed livid that the knight so stubbornly refused to accompany them somewhere. The dwarf boasted various valid points to argue against what turned out to be steadfast obedience to an unmistakable command by the King, a paladin himself.

The knight toasted them with providence and luck, then rose and bowed respectfully before he went out the back door toward the stables. The elf chuckled and said something softly, to which the dwarf roared in anger and bellowed curses in dwarven, fuming until he finally broke a mug by slamming it on the table too hard. He suddenly launched into baritone laughter as the elf shrugged and ordered more drinks, then looked around the room alertly with his penetrating green eyes.

[Jokes]

Sienna slouched in her chair, the cup of mulled wine already dulling the various aches and pains that her dragon blood hadn't been able to reach. She had barely spoken to Halad since returning to town, only giving the elf pained scowls every now and then. The other patrons had taken a quick glance at the halfling as she entered, hiding half lipped smiles behind mugs and spread fingers. He face was ruddy and smeared with blood, most of it not hers. He cloak was in tatters and half of it trailed behind her, dragging mud in across the floor. An errant twig had fallen from her hair as she sat down.

"That's the last time you use me as the bait." She said finally, for perhaps the hundredth time since she'd met Halad.

[Gryndel]

No stranger to Greenhorn Hall, Sienna knew there were residents who had healing available - for a price of course. The dwarven cleric of Clangeddin, who was currently sitting with the elf wizard known as Quijol, was known to heal those who had sustained wounds in honorable combat for nothing more than the story of such a fight. Otherwise Drynch would heal most for less than it cost for potions, though these rarely came without some grumpy and stern reprimand.

Though both these people seemed to ignore Sienna and Halad beyond a quick glance, More than a few others took notice. A few snickered at the old banter they'd heard before from the two stalwart adventurers. Others sported various facial reactions, ranging from intrigued to disapproval, and some whispered among themselves. Most simply ignored them as background noise while paying attention to the bard.

[Daryk]

Halad

Grinning, the tall elf replied, "Oh admit it, Sienna! It was fun, and it barely touched you. Besides, you'd be clean already if you let me use a charm or two. Here, have another round!"

The serving girl brought the pair two more glasses, one a common cup of mulled wine, the other small and crystal, filled with a strong clear liquor. Two empties were already on the table in front of the elf, while a third, still half full, was in front of a slightly wobbling raven. A cooshee sat attentively to the other side of the elf, it's large frame taking the place of a chair at the table.

[Figment_]

Roderick sits at a common table, enjoying a well-seasoned meal and a cool mug of ale. A barrel chested human; He is somewhat tall and moderately built. He has cropped black hair, light green eyes and a short trimmed beard. Much lined for someone of his age, more frowns than smiles have passed this man's face. He is clad in clerical vestments over heavy splint armor, and a heavy shield of dusky wood compliments the well-crafted longsword at his hip. The clutched lightning bolt of Heironeous is embroidered into his vestments, and mimicked on a silver symbol hanging on a long cord from his neck, for easy access. A pack and well used boots show he is accustomed to traveling. Despite his obvious pleasure at a warm meal and a soft place to sit, it is obvious that his guard is up. He flags down a server:

My thanks and compliments to whomever prepared this food, I daresay, I can recognize the meat in this stew, which is a thing I have long missed in my travels. Another order of the same, please and more ale, thank you.

[white rider]

Carn
Carn sat quietly, lightly sipping a cup of wine with a shaking hand while observing the other customers, paying special attention to the cleric. Carn had seen that type in his travels, and while they were always respectful, most did not take kindly to people with objective senses of property like Carn.

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carn, human Rogue 7

chaotic good, 5'6''
STR 16 +3
DEX 18 +4
CON 13 +1
INT 14 +2
WIS 12 +1
CHA 16 +3

ARMOR CLASS 19, flat footed 19, touch 14
INITIATIVE:+4
fort:+3
ref:+9
will:+3
+1 flaming Bastard sword +10 1d10+4+ 1d6 fire 19-20
Bastard sword x2 +8/+8 1d10+4/1d10+2+1d6 fire 19-20
Mwk shortbow +9 1d6 X3 60 ft 40 arrows
FEATS :Two weapon fighting, weapon focus (bsastard sword), oversized two weapon fighting, two weapon defense
Bluff +13 Listen +6 Move Silently +14 Open Lock +16 Diplomacy +17 Disable Device +14 Escape Artist +9 Search +7 Sense Motive +11 Sleight of Hands +9 Hide +12 Intimidate +10 speak language (Abyssal Common Dwarven Elven Goblin Infernal Orc Undercommon)
Sneak attack +4d6, trapfinding, evasion, trap sense, uncanny dodge
backpack
bedroll
Flint and steel
Hooded lantern
Oil flasks x5
Mwk thieves tools
6 potions clw
hand of the mage
35gp

[JungleBox90]

Boggard

An aged elf, a wayfaring traveller, slightly bent but active, with grayed mustaches that bristled forward like those of a prawn, pushed open the swing door into the commons. His hair was still a dark black and tied to mimic a pony's tail. His face was slightly gaunt due to a long jaw, one coated with fine, but untamed folicles. His short beard was split into two with braids and thin bands.
Though a cloak and leathery vestments covered it, one could see that he wore a remarkable piece of armor forged of mitral. The stain of mud and filth and the presence of tatters on the hem of his pants and cloak obviated the fact that he had wandered through a variety of wild terrain.
A scabbard was fixed to his belt; it sheathed a sword with an ornately crafted hilt. An arrow quiver that was strapped at his back, but there seemed to be no bow to match it.
He was having a sprightly conversation with a dark furred rat which perched itself on the elf's right shoulder.
"And then he hit his head on the sign! Ah, priceless!" He rambled on--loud and boisterous.
The rat gave a meager squeak in reply as the elf convulsed with laughter.
A cursory reconnoiter distracted him from the apparently very amusing chat.
"Oh! They have mead! Splendid!" He turned his familiar. "Bojangles, you want some mead? I want some mead."
The rat replied with a series of faint squeaks.
"Ale? Just ale? Nonsense! You need a strong drink, one that'll put hair on your chest!"
The elf sat himself in a rickety wooden chair and gestured for the server to come over. Without letting the server speak, he interrupted her with his order. "I'll have myself a pint of Mead, if you have it. And my friend here-" he gestured to the rat on his shoulder. "-will have a half-pint of the strongest batch you have." The rat interjected with a loud chirrup. "Oh! And some stale bread too, if you have it. Bojangles here is a mighty glutton!" The elf chuckled quietly to himself.
The server gave him a quizzical look, rightly thinking him to be a strange creature, but simply nodded and retreated from his presence.
"She was nice."

[white rider]

Carn
Carn, amused, wandered over to the elderly elf
So, is that a pet or a familiar? you look like the spellcasty type.

[Daryk]

Craban

Fixing an unsteady eye on the newly arrived wizard and his familiar, the raven croaked, "Hey boss, wizard at six o'clock." He then plunged his beak back into the glass of liquor and took another sip.

Halad

"Eh?" the elf replied, casting a quick glance behind him. Shrugging, he turned back to his companion with a smile in the hopes her mood would improve. His drab clothing was cleaner than the halfling's, but well worn and well suited to being overlooked. The only obvious weapons he carried were two exotic knives at his belt and three quivers strapped to his small pack.

Ryn

At the raven's comment the hound also turned, but her eyes lingered on the rat before returning to the table.

[Dark_Stalion]

Bartholemu

Alone at a table not far from the rest sits a young man. "Sits" is perhaps not the most accurate word. He is hunched, but not slouched. Slouched would imply a level of ease or relaxation and this human is anything but. His eyes dart nervously from one patron to another as he huddles arround his drink, or what's left of it. He has been nursing it for hours, if the rate at which he sips is any indication.

His alertness and almost palpable fear is perhaps the only notable thing about the boy, though. He is small in height and stature, has mousy, brown hair of unremarkable length and his clothing is that of a craftsman, stained and worn with use. Even the items adorning his body, the tattered cloak, the worn backpack and the tarnished bracers upon his wrists speak of age and much use, certainly more than anyone could credit to someone so boyish and inexperienced as he appears. The bracers appear to not fit him too well and it seems likely that when he stands up the cloak will probably appear oversized on him too.

As his eyes dart nervously about the roon, they alight upon various occupants, though never for long enough for eye contact. A Dwarf, an elf, another human huddled together.

They look like they might be, he thinks, looking away quickly before they might notice his gaze, afterall, I don't want to go alone. I really don't want to go alone...

His constantly moving, nervous eyes flit over other people, another pair who have just entered. A halfling and an Elf, sitting together, still dirty from the road.

But then if they don't, maybe I can persuade them...

The young man is distracted by the appearance of something scaly and green on his shoulder. A long, forked tongue flicks out to taste the air before he can grab the lizard and stuff it down his top.

"What did I tell you about showing yourself, Eppy!" he scolds quietly, "We don't want to give away too much."

He resumes his nervous vigil, scanning the other patrons, listening out for the magic words. If he doesn't hear them soon, he thinks, then he'll have to make a move.

[Figment_]

Roderick

Waiting on his next serving, the man appraises the room, his eyes lighting on the multiple strange animals and familiars and such around the room. After a short time, his eyes land on the young halfling woman; more specifically, her wounds. He rises from the table, adjusts his tabard and makes secure the peace bond on his blade and makes his way through the crowd over to her table.

I don't mean to intrude, but I can see you are somewhat wounded. Would you allow me to speak a blessing from Heironious over you? I have gifts enough from him today to ease your hurts, if he finds us both worthy.

[Daryk]

Halad

The elf glanced up at the priest, then turned expectantly back to Sienna. This was new. Usually it only took a few rounds of mulled wine to restore her spritis enough for another go the next day.

[Vauron]

Victor

At the end of the bar reclines a tall man, clad in well worn outfit of greens and browns. Hanging from his belt are numerous little trinkets, souvenirs of a dozen journeys, while a light circlet rests on his brow. He is nursing a drink, his second in as many hours, apparently more interested in observing his fellow patrons of the inn than in the vitals provided.

Is there really anyone here who might be worth bringing along? I've managed just fine so far. Still, enough people have failed that they couldn't all be too stupid to live. If there is any base to the rumors, there should be plenty of treasure to split among a group.

[Jokes]

Sienna smiled broadly at Roderick. "Now that's the type of magic I like," she turned to Halad, "better than all your showy off stuff." She saluted the man with her mug and downed the last of it. "Bless away!"

[Gryndel]

Each of the ten interested in going to Ryclend Deephold received notice to meet later that night in a room upstairs. For some it was a subtle message from a servant, others heard this whispered by an invisible fairy. Regardless of how they learned of the meeting, all those told of it had one thing in common; an interest in delving into the Deephold to gain fame, fortune, or simply face their fate.

OOC:

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Feel free to continue posting while we wait for the final pair to post here. The role playing and development of those always entertaining interpersonal relations are fun, and sometimes useful later.

I also award the group as a whole some XP for good role playing, even if not all participate at the same level of involvement. Since you are very close (you need 500 more xp) to 7th level (ok 8th technically ) some good interactions before the meeting will get you there before the night is over at the inn.

[Gryndel]

Everyone needs to roll a Will save DC18 (divination, mind affecting)

You can roll in the dice thread if you want, or in a spoiler here...

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Drynch (1d20+10)[15]
Quijol (1d20+9)[16]
Bernard (the bard) (1d20+8)[15]
EDIT Wowzers, none of my minor NPCs made it, and you know none of them did any casting!

[Gryndel]

DM
An elf and dwarf sat at a table very near Victor, the elf apparently deep in thought while the dwarf fumed and rumbled; mostly in dwarven, but sprinkled with curses and other words in Common to pick up that he was on about paladins and how stubborn they are at times.


Quijol
Smiling at the pixie who appeared with a tray of drinks, the young elf wizard cocked his head slightly for a moment, then nodded once. Glancing at Victor as he touched the dwarf’s armored forearm lightly with one finger he said, “This might be our lucky night Drynch, and we have that knight to thank for it.”


Drynch
The dwarf glared at the elf momentarily, then chuckled softly before draining the entire new tankard of ale. With a loud belch he set the empty on the table and looked around the room with a serious expression, as if concentrating on something as he sighted each person.

After a moment he spoke in a grumpy tone, “Hrmph, looks like a big crowd, an’ ye know da ‘rules, long ears. Guess we’ll see, eh? If naught else, I hear dem gobbos gotsa new leader. Tis vital dey get knocked down a few pegs soon, an’ da season’s bout right fer a gobbo war.”


Bernard
Meanwhile, the bard played a few intriguing bars on a flute, then sang:

When you're falling awake, and you take,
Stock of the new day.
And you hear your voice croak, as you choke,
On what you need to say.

Well don't you fret, don't you fear.
I will give you good cheer.

Life's a long song, life's a long song,
Life's a long song, life's a long song.
If you wait, then your plate, I will fill.

As the verses unfold, and your soul,
Suffers the long day.
And the twelve o'clock gloom, spins the room,
You struggle on your way.

Well don't you sigh, don't you cry,
Lick the dust from your eye.

Life's a long song, life's a long song,
Life's a long song, life's a long song.
We will meet, in the sweet, light of dawn.

As the Baker street train, spills your pain,
All over your new dress.
And the symphony sounds, underground,
But you wanted to rest.

Well don't you squeal, as the heel,
Grinds you under the wheels.

Life's a long song, life's a long song,
Life's a long song, life's a long song.
But the tune ends, too soon, for us all.

*flute solo*

But the tune ends, too soon, for us all.

lyrics by Ian Anderson - Jethro Tull

[Dark_Stalion]

Bartholemu

The nervous young man notices the human approaching the elf and the halfling at the bar. He is feeling more nervous as time goes on, and it shows. His leg is jittering up and down and sweat beads upon his brow. There are even teeth marks on his lip where he has been worrying at it.

Are they together? Maybe I could persuade all of them? What if it goes wrong? No, I can't think of failure, I must think of Master Dimlar. I will not fail him!

He takes a couple of deep breaths, steadies his shaking leg with one hand, wipes the sweat from his brow with the other and stands too quickly, knocking over the chair. As he bends to right it, a heavy purse falls from his clothes with a clatter to the floor. He scrambles to pick it up and secrete it again about his person.

Standing straight with chair replaced he takes another moment to calm himself, grinning sheepishly arround at any who have taken note of his clumsiness. He smoothes his mousey hair down, bites his lip, and sets off towards the bar.

"Sorry, excuse me, sorry," he appologises absently as he squeezes behind the chair of a boisterous and moustachioed elf who seems to be talking to himself.

Reaching the three at the bar he tries to get their attention.

"Hello, sorry, yes, um, hello, I'd like to pay you this," he holds out the aforementioned purse. For a moment he looks confused. "No, wait, I mean I want to go to the, ah," he appears to have difficulty saying it, "the, ah, um," and then, finally, he manages to whisper horsely, "the Deephold." He swallows nervously and shakes the bulging purse with an unconvincing clatter. "I can pay you, uh, to, um, go with me?" His voice rises as he goes, ending with a sqeek.

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If someone tries to grab the bag from him, he will try to keep a hold of it.

Edit: Curses, ruined the rolls by "previewing" the post. Remind me not to do that again. Will roll in the dice thread.

Edit 2: Looks like I got a 10 for the will and a 17 for the grapple.

[Jokes]

Sienna had ignored the whispered invitation. She'd heard of the Deephold a couple of times, mostly from the proprietors and the whole thing smelt fishy. She didn't like the idea of those big underground things. Nowhere to run, climb or hide. And given Halad's penchant for putting her in the thick of things, she'll probably end up doing a lot of them all.

The clink of coins shook her from her thoughts. If there was anything that could change her mind about anything, it was that noise. "Deephold, huh? Oh, yeah, me and Halad were just thinking about going down there, weren't we?" She considered making a grab for the bag, but this guy was holding it tight.

[white rider]

Carn
Carn, hearing the jittery man say something about deephold, disengaged himself from his conversation with the elf and walks over to the nervous man
hello, my name is Carn. You said something about the deephold? i have heard of it and would not be averse to exploring it, but i too realize the folly of going into that den of evil alone.

[white rider]

Carn
Carn, hearing the jittery man say something about deephold, disengaged himself from his conversation with the elf and walks over to the nervous man
hello, my name is Carn. You said something about the deephold? i have heard of it and would not be averse to exploring it, but i too realize the folly of going into that den of evil alone.

edit: sorry for 2x post

[Gadora]

Alberich

A rather short, dusty man enters the inn, carrying a pack that looks heavier than he should be able to easily manage. As he finds his way towards an open table, he can be heard speaking softly to himself.

"Celestial Hordes, it'll be good to have something other than conjured food for once."

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Will save, assuming Alberich was meant to be included in that group:
(1d20+8)[10]

[Daryk]

Halad

Distracted himself by the jingling coins, Halad hesitated a moment until he realized Sienna had asked him a question. "Huh? Oh, yes. Definitely. The Deephold, right," he said. Craban's eyes never left the bag of hidden shiny things. Ryn was the first to notice Carn's approach, and eyed him steadily, her ears swivelling ahead of her large head. The hound snorted lightly, drawing Halad's attention. Even through the pleasant alcoholic haze, the elf realized he and Sienna were now surrounded and outnumbered by strangers. Seemingly friendly ones, but strangers nonetheless. Straightening slightly and facing Sienna directly, he said, "We seem to have drawn a crowd! Perhaps we need a bigger table, eh?"

[Figment_]

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will save: (1d20+13)[31]

Roderick smiles back at the halfling and begins to chant softly, asking Heironious to close this woman's wounds. His holy symbol shimmers briefly as he expends more divine power than the spell needs, to extend it's duration.

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Extended Lesser vigor on Sienna, 30 rounds of fast healing 1

This may take some time, but should make you feel nearly whole... Ms...?

[JungleBox90]

Boggard

Boggard was too engaged in his jovial conversation with his familiar to notice Carn's coming and going--fully oblivious to the man presence. His ears were not properly attuned to hear someone else voice at the time.
Finally, the drinks had arrived! An unseen servant dropped two tankard's on the table, one of regular size, filled to the brim and topped with froth. The other a small mug held a liquor with a strong pungent smell. It made Bojangles writhe in his skin once the foul fragrance enter his sensitive nose.
"Oh don't be like that! Drink up!" Boggard urged. "You won't get any tougher by just milking a bottle of wine or watered ale. Put some poison in those bones!"
Reluctantly, the rat scrambled down to the tabletop and place his paws on the brim. With an inaudible gulp Bojangles began to lap up the liquor. "Chiefly done, my friend!" Boggard shook with laughter as he reached for his tankard and gulped down a few mouthfuls.
However, his pointed ears perked at the slight utterance of a single word: Deephold. Boggard turned his attention to a motley collection of fellow traveler who were congregating at the bar.
"Deephold? Did they say Deephold?" He questioned, asking no one in particular. "I think they said 'Deephold'!" He took another swift sip of mead before grabbing at his familiar, which seemed to be drowning himself in the half-filled mug. "Tiny Master Jangle, I believe we've found ourselves in proper company. Yes, proper company. Proper..." Boggard paused as his left eye twitched. "What was I saying?" The rat heaved a tiny sigh. "Ah right!"

The rugged elf gathered himself up and approached the congregation; as he did so, the rat sprinted off the table and latched itself onto its master's cloak, climbing to its perch on Boggard's shoulder.

"Excuse the intrusion my dear shovemans*, if you please, but I overheard a fragment of your conversation. You shovemans mean to travel to Ryclend Deephold, no? By happenstance, I find a need in venturing there myself. I can only wonder if you might need the services of a knowledgeable adventurer such as myself to be your guide. Are any of you willing to invest an interest in that?"

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*Note: "Shoveman" is a polite version of saying "stranger", in Boggard's mind at least. Weird? Yes. Blame the mushroom...

[Dark_Stalion]

Bartholemue

The very young looking man, he can't be more than 16 or 17 by his looks, clutches his clacking purse to his chest and stares wild eyed at the human who has approached him.

"Well, uh, I can't, uh, I can't pay too many people, but I suppose I have enough for one more." He looks nervously down at the bulging purse in his hands. Then he jumps at the boisterous voice of the elf right behind him.

"I cant, I can't, I can't... There's too many. I don't think I can pay you..." He trails off. His leg is twitching again, causing an annoying tap tap tap tap on the floor, and his knuckles whiten as his grip tightens on the purse.

[white rider]

Carn
Oh, I don't need much pay. If i were in this just for money, i would sell my gear and live a life of luxury until the end of my days

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carn, human Rogue 7

chaotic good, 5'6''
STR 16 +3
DEX 18 +4
CON 13 +1
INT 14 +2
WIS 12 +1
CHA 16 +3

ARMOR CLASS 19, flat footed 19, touch 14
INITIATIVE:+4
fort:+3
ref:+9
will:+3
+1 flaming Bastard sword +10 1d10+4+ 1d6 fire 19-20
Bastard sword x2 +8/+8 1d10+4/1d10+2+1d6 fire 19-20
Mwk shortbow +9 1d6 X3 60 ft 40 arrows
FEATS :Two weapon fighting, weapon focus (bsastard sword), oversized two weapon fighting, two weapon defense
Bluff +13 Listen +6 Move Silently +14 Open Lock +16 Diplomacy +17 Disable Device +14 Escape Artist +9 Search +7 Sense Motive +11 Sleight of Hands +9 Hide +12 Intimidate +10 speak language (Abyssal Common Dwarven Elven Goblin Infernal Orc Undercommon)
Sneak attack +4d6, trapfinding, evasion, trap sense, uncanny dodge
backpack
bedroll
Flint and steel
Hooded lantern
Oil flasks x5
Mwk thieves tools
6 potions clw
hand of the mage
35gp

[Gryndel]

Bernard
With the murmuring of patrons currently coalescing into tighter groups turning to talk about Deephold, the bard ended his current song with a flourish, smiling and nodding in thanks to the crowd as some showed their appreciation. After all, most customers had heard many tales of Ryclend, and seen many an adventurer come to Greenhorn and go to Death Knoll, never to be seen or heard from again. While unhappy about the interruption, one of the hallmarks of a successful bard was to flow with the feelings of the crowd despite personal desires to perform a particular piece.

Bernard stepped to the edge of the stage to collect what few tips were offered and snickered slightly as an invisible (wait, is there any other kind? hehehe) sprite whispered something to the bard. Straightening after pocketing his meager earnings, he raised his hands and asked for attention, "The illustrious Elduin has asked me to announce that there will be a meeting upstairs shortly concerning another gallant jaunt to Deephold! In honor of such, I shall sing the most famous rendition about Ryclend."

OOC: Lyrics pending...