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  1. - Top - End - #1
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
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    Default Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    A Tide of Evil Rising

    The walled city of York lies under a pall of thick coal and peat smoke mixing with dark and storm wracked grey skies above. The gusting wind and driving cold rain keeping the normally bustling streets to a much quieter level. The serried ranks of traders and rickety stalls creeping to the edges of the damp thatch and hunkering down in the filth in the slight shadows of the buildings.

    Everywhere you look one can see refugees from the surrounding villages. Tales of dark spirits killing serfs and shadowy humanoids with cloven hooves and beastial heads feasting the flesh of the fallen, cruel beast people touched by the Dark Gods of the Underworld or the spawn of the frozen Hell depending on the religion one chooses to follow.

    Even this late in the evening the bells of the Lightbringer's Temple tolls mournfully calling in the ever growing number of faithful. THe gentle tinkle of gold and silver donations adding to the Church's ever growing hold with Lord Jorvik. Closer to Lord Jorvik's keep the Bray horns of the Temple to the Old Gods call their own followers.

    The taverns however ignore thei calls. The ale and mead flowing as saxons rub shoulders with tartan clad celts half their size and hulking norsicans drain horns of mead as fast as the bar maids can fill them. The forced joy drowning out the tension and worry in the streets beyond...

    Spoiler
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    Feel free to post your entry into the Town and please ened up making your way towards either...

    The Woad and Wain - cheap pub by the river
    OR
    The Red Lion - more expensive tavern populated by minor nobles and some of elven blood.

    Thanks to Emperor Ing for the nice Avatar

    Work: End of the year rush. Probably no real updates till the weekend or week commencing 22nd

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    Pixie in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    Through the strong winds and bitter cold Olaf seems to carry himself like one would expect of a man that has come from a much colder environment. He makes note as he travels the streets to the pubs to watch the interactions of the people of this town. He is specifically watching for petty thieves and other hoodlums. While he has no intent to interfere with the on goings of the town, he takes note to remember faces and gather information for future use.

    He walks into Woad and Wain he sees to attaining a private room if one is still available otherwise he will wait to visit The Red Lion later in the evening. Then he visits the bar to gather a bit of information about the town. His current plan is to spend some time in this town, so tries to find if there is perhaps a recently abandon house (either from death or leaving the town) he might be able to usurp or perhaps another form of long term boarding.

    Spoiler
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    Spot Check to see if he notices any pick pockets or thugs throughout the town as he walked through it.
    (1d20+6)[21]

    Spot Check to see anything else unusual about the community.
    (1d20+6)[12]
    Thank you Mr Saturn for the Avatar.

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    Barbarian in the Playground
     
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    Caelin

    I walk the last stretch of the road leading towards York, speaking with the traveling farmer I've spent the day walking beside. I've sang the man some songs, and told the man many, many stories, and along the way, he's told me more about the current state of York than he realizes. I make careful note of where the poor farmer plans to spend his night, some pub called the Wood and the Wain...

    I wonder...a town like this probably has it fair share of the cruel and evil, but these stories are so...shocking. As much as smallfolk of York could use a laugh tonight, I'm going to need the wider views of the Nobility. I think, watching the wooden palisade of the town grow slowly larger.

    "I'm afraid, Bren, that I'm not going to York tonight. I fear that I might be better served in the south, where maybe I can find a town with better luck? *Small laugh* But, if I come to these parts again, I hope to find you in better times! Good-bye, and good luck in your work Bren. I say with a gracious smile, slowing from alongside his haywain. As soon as he starts to pull away, I activate my ring of invisibility, fading into the night's growing shadows, slip 10 gold into the small cubby of the haywain, and make my way to the walls of York.

    I slip into the town, maintaining my ring's blessed illusion. Let's see what the rulers of this town have to say... And I make my way towards the Red Lion, keeping clear eyes out for any disturbances.

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    (1d20+5)[15] Spot Check.

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    Benedict

    After an uneventful few days travelling cross-country, Benedict switches to the road for the last few miles before entering York.
    The tolling of the bells is a comforting sound, a reminder of more peaceful days in the monastery. But comfort must wait.
    With a silent prayer to the Lightbringer, Benedict heads towards the Red Lion. For once, his mixed parentage may actually make life easier.

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    Spot Check: (1d20+16)[35]

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    Silene and Polk

    "All right. Another half mile, and then we should land."

    "But I like it better up here. It smells really bad down there. Like smoke. But not the nice smoke like from spruce that's been sitting out all winter or the flames that I shoot. Smoke that remembers what it used to be, when what it used to be was a rotting foot."

    "Nevertheless, we should land soon. We'll be heading into a more heavily populated area, and not everyone knows that dragons like you are friendly. You wouldn't want to cause a panic, would you?"

    "I suppose that the sight of a creature of such power and majesty might be misconstrued as aggression by some. Mama said that I was to exercise restraint in self-revelation, and that dragons had two eyes and two ears but only one mouth for two reasons."

    "Oh, and what were those two reasons?"

    "One, that wisdom was to be gained more from watching and listening than by talking. And two, that it's blessedly difficult to keep track of where your flame is going when it's coming out of two mouths."

    The pair angle down into a glade just off the road, a bit ahead of their travelling companions. A moment later, the halfling woman emerges, walking next to a teeneaged boy with a mop of blonde hair and a long, oddly cut leather coat. Silene is walking stiffly, and eventually she gives up, abandons all hope of dignity, and asks for a hand up onto Polk's shoulder.

    "Now remember our cover story. I'm the mysterious swordsman with a brooding manner and a tendancy to shout as I leap up and kick people. You're my comic sidekick."

    "You don't have a sword. And I'm not your sidekick."

    They rejoined the companions who had been travelling with them from the north. Silene pointed further down the road.

    "We are perhaps two or three hours' walk to a city that's overhung with smoke. It must be York. It certainly matches the descriptions we have been hearing. There are storm clouds up ahead. I'm guessing it will be raining by the time we arrive."

    Spoiler
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    Waiting to progress further until I'm clear on who might be travelling with these two. I'm assuming Saenry and Mailoc. Not so sure about Michelle.
    Currently climbing out of a heckofa two weeks at work/RL. Now working to catch up. Thanks for your patience.

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    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Michelle Easton

    The changeling woman laughs--silently, as she always was in her natural form--at the exchange between Silene and Polk. She wonders what it must be like to have a friend like that, somebody who knows you so completely yet still accepts you as you are. However, she can't let her mind wander for too long, as her attention is drawn to the smoke in the city ahead. She closes her eyes and, with a deep sigh, begins to change form.

    Her opalescent hair shimmers with flickers of red as if it is catching fire, then bursts into a rich crimson. Her lavender, almond-shaped eyes shrink and contort themselves as they take on a rich blue. Lastly, her gray skin fades to a pale white as she shrinks in size. Once she finally does speak, it is in the hacked Celtic accent of Adalia Three Trees.

    "Right, that's York up ahead; I'm sure of it. We can nip into the Woad and Wain to ease the woes of the road and rain. Speaking of, think three hours is enough to beat the rains, then? she asks nobody in particular. She picks up a sprig of grass, tossing it to the wind and studying how it falls. "I can feel it mahself--rain's coming in bout ninety minutes. We'd best move quickly, then." Michelle waddles on in front of them, immersed in her current personality. It seemed the changeling always felt most comfortable in someone else's skin.

    Survival - (1d20+3)[18] to predict the weather.

    Spoiler
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    Aptitude Focus: Wilderness
    Floating Bonus feat: Craven
    Last edited by OMG PONIES; 2012-08-14 at 07:55 AM.
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    Mailoc

    Polk, if you'd care for a sword, you're more than welcome to borrow mine. Mailoc smiles at the pair of them, and wraps his cloak around him more tightly. He glances at the threatening sky above them. Nothing wrong with a bit of dampness, but I'll admit, sleeping with a roof overhead would be nice tonight. Adalia, if you know of a decent inn, lead on.
    There is the moral of all human tales;
    'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past.
    First freedom and then Glory - when that fails,
    Wealth, vice, corruption - barbarism at last.
    And History, with all her volumes vast,
    Hath but one page...

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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    The young 'man' leaps at the offer of a sword, and darts over to Mailoc.

    "Ooh! Thank you! That might be fun. So many of the humanoid men keep commenting on their prowess with a sword, comparing the sizes of their swords, wanting to poke them into things. Mama says that it's because their penises are not as large as dragon penises. I've never seen a men penis. What does yours look like? Does it go inside and outside like a dragon's? Can I see?"

    He waves Mailoc's sword around experimentally, and seems to get the hang of it quite quickly.

    "There. Now I am a dashing young hero."
    Currently climbing out of a heckofa two weeks at work/RL. Now working to catch up. Thanks for your patience.

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    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Mailoc

    Mailoc eyes him for a second, admirably struggles to maintain a straight face, and bursts into laugher. He recovers after a moment, and addresses Polk while wiping at his eyes. Yes, you certainly are. And as to your other questions, well, I can't say that it isn't true for some men. Ahem. If you'd like to learn a bit more about human anatomy, I'll see if I can find you a book or something a bit less.... Another laugh threatens to interrupt him, but he composes himself, and continues. Anyway, this falchion isn't a "poking" sword, it's a cleaver. Not an elegant weapon, and it takes a lot of room to use properly, but very effective. It's also handy for chopping through brush, or in this adamantine weapon's case, buildings and walls.
    Last edited by Menteith; 2012-08-14 at 01:59 PM.
    There is the moral of all human tales;
    'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past.
    First freedom and then Glory - when that fails,
    Wealth, vice, corruption - barbarism at last.
    And History, with all her volumes vast,
    Hath but one page...

  10. - Top - End - #10
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
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    The Road Outside

    As Michelle expects the rain begins soon the driving sleet and wind a potent combination to bring misery to weary travellers. Even ones as bawdy as Polk. The gates of the city loom high above you soon as the guards huddle in their guard house avoiding the weather.
    "Tuppence for foot travellers" the weary guards mention holding their hand out for the 2 coppers from each member of the quartet.

    The heavy wooden gates creak open slightly as Silene, Mailoc, Polk and Michelle squeeze through the partially ajar gates that will soon be closed as night drapes it scary cloak around the city and terror and trouble stalk the wooded hills and apple laden orchards.

    Walking up the streets they can all see the thieves, beggars and refugees that fill the nigh soil laden alleys but despite the grim sights and the smells the welcoming squeal of bagpipes and cheering of ale drinking draws you onwards to the Wode - the busy and large tavern juts off the main market square. A towering 4 storey edifice with large stables and a yard filled with merchants' wagson around the back of it.

    As Mailoc swings open the door the busy taproom quitens slightly as the 4 strangely garbed adventurers are witnessed entering. The mass of labourers and off duty guards giving hard stares, a smattering of celts and Norsemen likewise looking surprised...

    Woad and Wain
    Quote Originally Posted by Void View Post

    He walks into Woad and Wain he sees to attaining a private room if one is still available otherwise he will wait to visit The Red Lion later in the evening. Then he visits the bar to gather a bit of information about the town. His current plan is to spend some time in this town, so tries to find if there is perhaps a recently abandon house (either from death or leaving the town) he might be able to usurp or perhaps another form of long term boarding.
    Olaf pushing through the town's filth strewn streets can see the evidence of the rising trouble in the town. The gangs of strongarms and thugs lurking in the shadows. THe ragged youngsters with quick hands and sharp knives- both signs of a town on the edge.

    Pushing through the muck strewn streets, hurrying slightly as the rain begins to fall more heavily he soon reaches the loud and raucous door to the Woad and Wain. The sound hits the heavy set Norseman like a wave, the smell of mead and ale, the shouts of conversation and rattle of dice competing with the faint singing of a bard on the stage - the young red haired celtic girl, barely 2ft tall balanced on the table dancing and singing lustily as her companion blows hard a skirling rythm on the bagpipes.

    The crowded interior - mostly rough coated labourers and mailed off duty guardsmen move out of the way for Olaf as he pushes his way to the bar. The busy wench grunting a brief acknowledgement before pushing across the horn of ale. "No rooms norseman. For shilling (5sp) you can be having a space in the straw above the stable out back. Its dry and warm". With that she whirls away serving a pair of heavy set builders beside Olaf.

    A moment later the doors creak open as another strange bevy of adventuring types push in. Clad in mail, steel and bedecked with weapons. The noise of the tavern quietens slightly as the doors swing open. Something about one of the women in their midst looking familiar...

    Red Lion

    Quote Originally Posted by Roguenewb View Post
    Caelin

    I slip into the town, maintaining my ring's blessed illusion. Let's see what the rulers of this town have to say... And I make my way towards the Red Lion, keeping clear eyes out for any disturbances.
    Quote Originally Posted by hierophant View Post
    Benedict

    After an uneventful few days travelling cross-country, Benedict switches to the road for the last few miles before entering York.
    The tolling of the bells is a comforting sound, a reminder of more peaceful days in the monastery. But comfort must wait.
    With a silent prayer to the Lightbringer, Benedict heads towards the Red Lion. For once, his mixed parentage may actually make life easier.
    Benedict quickly reaches the gates and after handing across a couple of coppers enters the town. The welcome evensong of the Temple's bells a suggestion that some element of civilisation resides in the town.

    Moving switly and gracefully he slides towards the North end of the town where the streets are a little cleaner and the clientelle a little more friendly where he won't have to cover the long ears that give away his heritage.

    The delicate sounds of a truejenn blowing a delicate and jaunty tune attract his attention to an Inn termed the the Lion d'or a roaring red lion on the sign. The doors swing opne smoothly and the faint smell of garlic and lamb wash over you as a large fire crackles in a hearth and a young girl blows on the elven pipes in a pleasing manner. All around you you can see the grace of your people and the Parisien tongue being spoken. It feels, as much as possible, like a slice of home. As you stand in the doorway a young maid approaches with a gentle courtsey. "Bonsoir, may I take your cloak. Would you care for some wine?"

    Even as she leads you to a seat no-one really notices the door opening and shutting behind Benedict - must be the wind and no-one came in.
    Thanks to Emperor Ing for the nice Avatar

    Work: End of the year rush. Probably no real updates till the weekend or week commencing 22nd

  11. - Top - End - #11
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
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    Caelin

    A still tongue is a sure sign of a moving mind as my father used to say... I think, wryly. Looking and listening around the bar provide little immediate insight. Getting a whole crowd to talk about a single topic is never easy...You'd think I'd have learned learned to expect that by now... I think, with an amused little sigh.

    I look around the bar for a suitable dark corner, and a suitably drunk patron, though those two need not be in the same place. Once I've found what I'm looking for, I step into the darkness, and dismiss the magic of my lucky ring, appearing in the shadows while trying to hide myself as best I can.

    Spoiler
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    Hide check (to help reduce the suddeness of dropping invisibility) [roll1d20+4[/roll]


    I approach the drunken elven woman at the side booth. "Bonjour madame. Have you seen a friend of mine? A tall man with bright white hair and a bold scar across half his face?" I project the confidence and friendliness I have learned and practiced in a hundred bars in hundred duchies across Britain. She'll enjoy the company, and no one was ever hurt by a white lie...

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    Diplomacy (1d20+22)[24]

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    Planetouched in the Playground Moderator
     
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    Saerny

    Human cities were all the same. Too many people, too many buildings. Saerny pulled his cloak tighter around him and scooted his seat closer to the fireplace. Not like a proper burrow. The halfling had been in the city since the morning, waiting for Silene in a miserable tavern named the Woad and Wain. Not a decent drink either.

    He kept his distance from the cityfolk and they from him. Don't know why we have to meet here anyway. Damn bells ringing all hours - oh. The open door blows in the wind and rain and Saerny shivers for a moment. He stands up, then looks around him and realizes most everyone is twice his height, then sits back down. They'll come by the fire soon enough.

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    Sorry for the late arrival, didn't catch the IC thread was up.
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    Olaf takes note of the new folks that entered. Though as he cant quite place what seemed familiar about the woman yet, he decided to give his memory a chance to kick in before approaching them. He takes his drink by the fire place. There he noticed the halfling (Saenry) huddling by the fire. He sits not too far from him and says, I see the weather disagrees with you little one. I would tend to agree for where I come from we do not have this sleet as the Saxons call it. The weather has the decency to either rain or snow, not both. Olaf then takes a drink and holds silence to let the halfing decide if he wants to enter conversation or not.
    Thank you Mr Saturn for the Avatar.

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    Kurn arrives at the Wode and Wain:

    York was huge. Dozens of houses, more people than he could count. At first he thought he must have come in on market day, but there wasn't a market. Just people. Everywhere.

    Boris...

    Yeah?

    Did we... is that how it's supposed to go?

    Healing is a difficult art to master. Remember old Cuuthric used to say that the hardest part was dealing with the people?

    The huts were strange. Larger, more sturdy. Stone. Either these people really liked tall cealings, or there were multiple floors in there. He'd been in a tower once, and was suitably impressed, but here they were building up because there was no room to the sides. It was, incredible.

    Kurn wondered if he'd ever get see the inside of one.

    Yes.. I just expected them to be, well, a little more...

    Grateful?

    Um... Happy. I mean we did heal her, right? We did it properly, we followed all Cuuthric's recipies and steps.

    Absolutely. Everything according to the ancient lore. Hedgehog teeth for weak eyes. A cough, so singed hedgehod bristles for that. There was that rash, that had to go, and of course she had a case of the rattles, so hedgehog fat and hedgehog claws for those two...

    More people, different people, drifted by. He'd given up trying to memorise them all. Talking to eachother. They were heading to the big hut at the end of the row, the one with the warm light and the smoke that made his stomach growl. He was, he realised, actually going to have to face these people.

    ...for the hair, terrible condition that was in, and then those small wounds on the face of course...

    Maybe it would go better if he didn't heal anyone this time.

    Boris, do you think maybe we shouldn't have tried to cure them all at once?

    He could feel the spirit regarding that statement from all angles, like a cat faced with an unfamiliar fish.

    But.. that was the beauty of it! We had a hedgehog. We might as well use it all in one go!

    I'm just thinking... maybe we weren't supposed to use the whole animal. I think we were supposed to use bits. I mean, that bit where we rub hedgehog fat on her rash.

    Yeah? Well we did. That hedgepig was definitely on the pudgy side. Ok, so she got a few spines stuck in her arm, but I'm sure that took her mind right off things.

    I think... we were supposed to just use the fat.

    Well, you can't do that unless you, ha, cut the poor thing open.

    Yes.

    Oh. Ew!

    I think healing is supposed to be Ew. I think there's a lot of Ew involved.

    But that would kill the hedgepiggy! Besdies, how are you going to heal people using bits of dead animal?

    Kurn sighed, and shifted his weight. It seemed like there were a lot of things that he hadn't been told, a lot of things that went unsaid.

    Maybe there's stuff we need to know. Back home, the midwife used a lot of hot water, but I never could figure out...

    Oh that, that's easy. You boil water to keep it clean.

    Really? Kurn hadn't thought about how to clean water. Washing it, he realised, had a certain impracticality about it.

    Sure. I don't know why they needed it clean though. Maybe a stork is a very fussy animal?

    Kurn digested this new information. Sometimes Boris was very enlightening to have around.

    Anyway, she didn't start screaming until we tried to get her to swallow the hedgehog claws.

    That's because the hedgehog wouldn't fit in her mouth.

    It did fit! Eventually. It's not my fault it wouldn't stop struggling. Besides we took it out again.

    Eventually.

    Well yeah, hedgehog spines are really tricky that way. We still cured her of everything. You're just upset because her family got, well, a bit excited. Testy.

    Numerous. Heavily armed.

    Well that too. But don't worry. I think we lost the mob on that turning just after the bridge. They've not been down here in over an hour...

    So I can get out of this barrel?

    Sure, why not?

    Kurn hauled himself out of the sturdy, rapidly filling, rain barrel, and stood there dripping. He looked like he'd just waded the river, but then it was raining anyway. Other than that he was remarkably intact. He straightened his clothing, untangled the clay spirit vials that hung from his elven bow, and wound his best feathers back into his braided hair. There, every inch the civilised man! He supressed a little frisson of excitement as he headed for the inn door. York! Nothing could possibly go wrong now.
    Last edited by Togo; 2012-08-15 at 04:16 AM.

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    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Michelle Easton

    The shapechanger smiles as she eyes Saerny sitting alone. "No comfort quite like that of a familiar face, am I right?" she asks with a smile. However, her smile freezes in place, making it quite apparent that she wishes to remove it as Olaf joins the halfling. "Make that two familiar faces," she mutters through her teeth so only her companions can hear. "I know that damned Norseman from a job. For now, I am Adalia and nothing but, savvy?" she asks those with her.

    Michelle had a creeping feeling that Olaf had known her true nature when last they met, but she wasn't sure. She had felt that she was being followed and, when she activated her Detect Thoughts ability, could have sworn she heard Olaf's mind over the chatter of the crowd she hid within. However, he had never come to call so she had thought it another figment, another phantom fear from too much time on assignment.

    But now, here he was once more. Michelle's Detect Thoughts had been screaming at her since they entered the city, and the bar was no different. However, she had long ago learned to focus it on individuals, tuning out the pedestrian cacophony in order to hear the inmost being of the one she was truly interested in. She focuses the cone of the spell on Olaf, and picks up a distinct sensation of confusion, underpinned by a moment of...recognition?

    Olaf must make a DC 20 Will save vs Detect Thoughts, but I'm just trying to pick up the fact that he remembers her. I figured that would be enough, but if not she can take 10 on Sense Motive for a result of 30, allowing her to gain a sense of the social situation.
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    Pixie in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    Michelle sees Olaf is sympathetic toward the halfling Saenry, but even then she can tell he appears to be working something out in his mind. As Michelle works her magic to read into thoughts the initial noise of the room slips away as she begins to focus onto the Norseman she knows as Olaf. Although her focus is keen, Olaf seems to have closed his mind to any intrusion and it would appear his secrets would remain his for the night. From what she remembers about the man though is he tends to wear his emotion on his sleeve and she might feel if he out right recognized her it would likely be more apparent.
    Thank you Mr Saturn for the Avatar.

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    Saerny

    The norseman towering over Saerny catches him a bit by surprise. The halfling looks up for a moment and then chooses to scoot his chair against the wall so he doesn't have to crane his head to see the large man. Despite his ill mood a hint of smile appears at Olaf's talk of the weather. If he's complaining about the Saxons he can't be all bad...

    "I'll drink to that." Saerny says and raises his mug to the norseman's. "You mentioned home. Where are you from...if you don't mind the question." Saerny asks as his eyes flicker over the norseman's body, taking in his huge bulk and looking for weapons.
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  18. - Top - End - #18
    Titan in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    After nearly slicing off a finger while experimenting with Mailoc's 'cut-through-anything' blade, Polk thinks better of carrying it, and returns it with a curt bow to the holy swordsman. Polk opts instead to be a 'master of foot and elbow'

    York is a source of considerable consternation to Silene. She hands over the coppers for Polk and herself from a purse clutched in a miserly hand, and her hand rests suspiciously on her belt knife whenever they are approached too closely by a local. Not only were these people unconscionably large, but they smelled appallingly badly.

    Entering the Woad and Wain, Polk is hard pressed to decide what to be fascinated by first. He had been hearing about Saxon taverns for some time. They were places of some mystery. Places where strangers met and brawled. Or met and fell in love. Or met and decided to do business together. Business was another complex and nebulous concept that she was excited to be exploring. But for now...a tavern.

    Silene stays close to Michelle, and nods silently as she makes her public identity clear.

    "As you wish. And...you mean the big man with Saerny?"

    She still didn't know what to make of Saerny. The older halfling had certainly proven himself capable, both as a traveller and a warrior, but he spoke with such care. And yet here he was, as arranged, and had even managed to strike up a conversation with strangers.

    Polk darted immediately towards the bar, occupying the space so recently vacated by Olaf. His accent betrayed their northern origins, plus more than a hint of a strangeness all Polk's own.

    "Excuse me. Do you have mead?"
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  19. - Top - End - #19
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    As Saerny looks over the tall norseman, he notices while strong his muscles are not the bulky kind. Rising from his back Saerny would notice the hilts of two finely crafted scimitars rising; not cross hatched. Both hilts with a wolf head on the base, one made of black opal and the other of white pearl. Olaf leans forward in his seat a bit so the halfling does not have to crane to much to look at him. "The northern fjords.", he says with a smile as to assume everyone knows of the cold sliver like bodies of water along the coast of Norway. "No shortage of snow and ice there. My name is Olaf, son of Gunner. It is nice to meet you little one. What about you?" Leaving the last question a bit open to either be about Saerny name or home. Olaf figures he should let the halfling lead the conversation as Olafs foreign nature often confuses or intimidates folks.
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  20. - Top - End - #20
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    After nearly slicing off a finger while experimenting with Mailoc's 'cut-through-anything' blade, Polk thinks better of carrying it, and returns it with a curt bow to the holy swordsman. Polk opts instead to be a 'master of foot and elbow'

    York is a source of considerable consternation to Silene. She hands over the coppers for Polk and herself from a purse clutched in a miserly hand, and her hand rests suspiciously on her belt knife whenever they are approached too closely by a local. Not only were these people unconscionably large, but they smelled appallingly badly.

    Entering the Woad and Wain, Polk is hard pressed to decide what to be fascinated by first. He had been hearing about Saxon taverns for some time. They were places of some mystery. Places where strangers met and brawled. Or met and fell in love. Or met and decided to do business together. Business was another complex and nebulous concept that she was excited to be exploring. But for now...a tavern.

    Silene stays close to Michelle, and nods silently as she makes her public identity clear.

    "As you wish. And...you mean the big man with Saerny?"

    She still didn't know what to make of Saerny. The older halfling had certainly proven himself capable, both as a traveller and a warrior, but he spoke with such care. And yet here he was, as arranged, and had even managed to strike up a conversation with strangers.

    Polk darted immediately towards the bar, occupying the space so recently vacated by Olaf. His accent betrayed their northern origins, plus more than a hint of a strangeness all Polk's own.

    "Excuse me. Do you have mead?"
    Currently climbing out of a heckofa two weeks at work/RL. Now working to catch up. Thanks for your patience.

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  21. - Top - End - #21
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    Mailoc

    Of course, Adalia. I'll see to our rooms, and will join you by the fire shortly. I'll see if I can find something to eat, as well. And just out of curiosity...has Polk ever had alcohol before?
    There is the moral of all human tales;
    'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past.
    First freedom and then Glory - when that fails,
    Wealth, vice, corruption - barbarism at last.
    And History, with all her volumes vast,
    Hath but one page...

  22. - Top - End - #22
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    Silene's face swivels up to Mailoc's at the question. It freezes into a mask for a moment before it reveals a flicker of...well, not quite fear, but something closer to the meltdown that occurs when the sheer number of variables suddenly expands beyond the mind's ability to compute them.

    The halfling defender shoots towards the bar, slides deftly between legs and spaces in the crowded and dirty room, and seems to reappear next to Polk.

    "Milk! She means, do you have milk!"

    Polk gazes down at Silene, puzzled.

    "No I don't. But I can order one for you if you like."

    Turning back to the harried publican, Polk smiles broadly.

    "One mead and one milk, please!"
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  23. - Top - End - #23
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    The WOad and Wain

    THe packed soon returns to normal with the bagpipes drowned out by the chatter and commotion of the bar. THe arrival of a couple more celts soon attracts attention as a few hands move to knife hilts - or in the case of the wiser ones their belt pouches.

    The barmaid looks at Polk at his companion wordlessly sliding Polk ahorn of mead and proferring a small horn mug towards Silene.

    As you settle into the Woad the buzz of conversation surounds you as you can start to hear snippets... "bandits raiding from the hills. They tain't normal"... "like me with heads of cows and beasts they was".... Sir Agravain you reckon, no ways he was with that sort of ceremony"... "Don't be talking about Slough Feg in here. I'm a man of the Light I am".....
    Thanks to Emperor Ing for the nice Avatar

    Work: End of the year rush. Probably no real updates till the weekend or week commencing 22nd

  24. - Top - End - #24
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    Chimera

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    Kurn pauses. The taproom is full. So full that a dancer has to be on the table, and the thirsty sawdust on the floor was getting sated on spilled drink and tracked in water. At first he simply tries squeezing through the press. This leads to a disasterous start in which he hooks a chair and a burly man with a leather apron, both of which he then has to return.

    After that he holds his longbow before him like a staff, and keeps another on his possessions, and manages to make progress towards the bar. Boris eagerly shows him the easiest route, which is helpful, even if it seems a bit of a long way to go. Even then he has to keep stopping, to remove his club from pressing into someone's back, to untangle the leather loops of his charms from someone's drinking arm and to remove someone's hand which had somehow got tangled up with his belt pouch. Still, everyone seems good humoured about it, so he says as little as possible and moves on.

    He shoots a hungry glance towards the fire, where his wet clothes would dry more quickly, but past experience told him that going straight to the fire would raise eyebrows, and if he raised too many eyebrows he'd somehow find himself outside in the rain again. Buying a drink would act as eyebrow repellant, provided he held it high and didn't actually finish it. Drink first, then fire.

    And he had to talk to people. He needed to choose the right person, he decided, as he neared the bar itself. He paused slightly, to let a halfling in a hurry dash past. Someone who would listen, and give good advice. Someone important. He scans the crowd. He settled on a young man, almost his own age, who was gravely giving advice to that same hasty halfing, about what to drink. His air of natural authority and wisdom makes him the obvious choice, and the familiar Iceni accent so far from home reassures him that he's chosen well.

    Kurn approaches Polk, the clay charms dangling from notches in his longbow clattering as he rests it carefully on his own foot. He smiles, whisps a beaded braid from his face, and speaks.

    Hi, I'm wet.

    Introduction out of the way, he presses on.

    So, what's good to drink here?

    Sensing that something was still missing, he tries to explain.

    I just need to ward off some eyebrows.

    He smiles at the halfling too for good measure, glad that he's not the only one who has to seek advice.
    Last edited by Togo; 2012-08-15 at 08:13 PM.

  25. - Top - End - #25
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    Polk had just received a horn brimming with a thick amber fluid, and bent to fumble for coins in his pouch. Reaching up, Silene snags the horn and holds it out to Kurn, swapping it out for the small wooden mug that she had just been handed.

    "Here! Try the mead."

    Polk either doesn't notice the switch, or doesn't mind, as he slides a silver coin across the bar. He gives Kurn a cursory examination.

    "You certainly are wet. Were you attacked by the Ouse? You should try taking off all of your clothes and rolling in dry sand."

    Polk steps away from the bar, sipping the milk, and walks over to Saerny. Meanwhile Silene nods up at Kurn, inexplicably grateful for the interruption.

    "Saerny! This is a big place. Do you think that they wanted it to smell like this, or if the smoke and sweat thing happened accidentally?"
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  26. - Top - End - #26
    Halfling in the Playground
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    With a smile, Benedict hands over his cloak.
    "Merci. No wine tonight, but the lamb smells delicious. A warm meal to take the edge off the chill would be most appreciated."

    Taking his seat at the table, he keeps his eyes and ears open, content to observe the surroundings before approaching anyone.

    Spoiler
    Show

    Anyone/thing of note - mainly looking for people worth approaching for information.
    Spot: (1d20+16)[29]
    Listen: (1d20+16)[27]
    Last edited by hierophant; 2012-08-16 at 04:24 AM. Reason: Forgot to colour my speech!

  27. - Top - End - #27
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Michelle Easton

    Adalia maintains her smile, but behind the mask of flesh Michelle is cursing her continually worsening luck. First the Norseman had struck up a conversation with Saerny, and now that peculiar seer was here. It's not that she was unhappy to see him--after all, Kurn had saved her life when the other healers and holy men had been too busy saving their own. It was just that too many people from her past gathering in the same place tended to be a bad thing; she still didn't know how she had gotten the halflings and the Saxon to not execute her on the spot, much less allow her to travel with them. Even still, the little woman does not allow her smile to fade as her eyes scan the crowd and her mind scans their thoughts.

    Maintaining concentration on Detect Thoughts, targeting each individual in the crowd (or as many as I can). Will save DC 20 from each to avoid having surface thoughts read.

    Togo:
    Spoiler
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    As Kurn's gaze falls upon the redheaded woman at the bar with his new companions, he is struck by a vision. Standing in her place, he instead sees a bloodied dwarf ordering a tankard of ale. The face is the familiar one of Winston Wolff. He turns to Kurn and raises his glass for a toast, at which point the seer notices that the dwarf has almond-shaped, lavender eyes. No matter which way the dwarf turns or how Kurn directs his gaze, the eyes match his gaze and follow his every motion.

    Floating above the crowd, there is a shadowy, out-of-focus figure that seems to hover around the dwarf, watching his every move. Thin lines of pure darkness connect the dwarf to the hands of the figure hovering overhead, almost as if Winston was a living marionette. As Kurn tries to focus his eyes on the shadowy figure, the rest of the room goes out of focus. He tries to pick up some detail in the figure, but finds none. Suddenly, the entire vision is gone as quickly as it had appeared.
    Last edited by OMG PONIES; 2012-08-16 at 06:26 AM.
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  28. - Top - End - #28
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    Chimera

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    Kurn accepts the offered drink with joy.

    Oh thank you.

    He glances over towards the fire. Then raises his mug.

    I've got one, thanks! He calls cheerfully.

    He stares for a moment, then looks down.

    So, um.. Iceni? I'm from that way myself. Ah.. Hold on.

    He carefully spills a few drops from his mug onto the floor. Once, twice, done.

    There you go, now stop complaining. So.. He looks back to Silene. Um.. But now you don't have a drink?

    He looks a little panicky.

    You gave me your drink and now you don't have one. The eyebrows will get you and then you'll be out in the rain, and it will be all my fault! What's that?

    He tilts his head to one side, as if listening.

    Well, yes, I could do that, but then we'd each only have half a mug, that wouldn't... Yes, ok, it might look the same from the side, that's true, but for a proper warding you need a mug that isn't empty, right, and once you cut the mug in half then it won't stay... No Boris, why don't I just rent another mug, and that will come with a drink in it, and then we'll all have one...

    He gives the barmaid the frantic wave guarenteed to be ignored by all barstaff everywhere.

    Well yes, apart from you, but you just had some of this one and last time I got you your own mug you barely drank anything. Oh. Yes, thank you m'lady, I would like a drink please. What kind?

    His eyes cross. This was getting technical. Inspiration strikes

    I'd like, he announces gravely. another one of these. Only fuller, he adds. For the halfling here.

    He looks down at Silene.

    Sorry, did you want to go back to the fireside?
    Last edited by Togo; 2012-08-16 at 08:22 AM.

  29. - Top - End - #29
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    Silene had had several months of intensive non sequitur training with Polk, watching a nimble mind bounce from idea to idea like a grasshopper that had fallen into a vat of beer. So it was that she was able, now, to simply nod twice, and try ineffectually to wave off the offer of a drink.

    "You are very kind. I'm not all that thirsty. Just in from the rain ourselves, after all."

    She gestures to her own clothes. The dress and cloak clung to her, but not quite as heavily as Kurn's clothes.

    "I'm afraid I haven't been to the fire yet, but I see a, a friend over there at that table. Perhaps you'll join us for a little? It might help with the, ah, eyebrows. If that means what I think it means. I'm sorry, I forget the forms of your southern address. Is it appropriate to ask you in this way? Oh! I was told about this."

    Solemnly, she extends her right hand, palm up.

    "I am Silene Dragonward. There is pleasure in meeting you."
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  30. - Top - End - #30
    Planetouched in the Playground Moderator
     
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    Default Re: Tide of Evil Rising (IC)

    Saerny

    Saerny's own weapons aren't quite as impressive as the norseman's. An unstrung short bow seems to be tied to the halflings pack that's on the floor next to him. There's a small hunting knife at his waist but it'd be a poor weapon in a fight. Saerny nods to Olaf and says "Saerny Underbough. I'm from a small tribe, a fair travel that way." He nods his head in a vague direction that could as easily mean west or simply outside the door. He looks as if he's about to ask some question of the norseman but Polk interrupts him.

    He waits a moment before replying and looks at the space around Polk then back to him. "Not intentional, I'm sure. You get too many in one place and they just let these things happen." He's not really clear about what he's referring to but Polk knows from their past encounters he's most likely dispairing the humans. "Olaf and I were discussing our homes. Where were you from again?" He says with a hint of a smile, knowing that Polk knows that Saerny knows where he's from.
    The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai Me.
    "We have sent many to Hell, to smooth our way," said I, "and we are standing yet and holding blades. What more?"
    Shadow of the Demon Lord (Robert Schwalb's New RPG) | Let's Vote Up: Mercenary Company (Forgotten Realms)

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