DeepBlue's Vagabond - Act 1

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

A few small fingers stroked Schorbuk's chin in consideration, but the words that left the mouth above denied the suggestion.

"Appreciate the word of advice, but I'm afraid we've got to get onto business up north without delay. Maybe a fast caravan will come along up behind us and we'll tag along, though. Strength in numbers, as you say,"

Quickly turning away to avoid becoming embroiled in further smart guard / dumb guard antics, he folds his arms across his chest and leans back against one of the gate's retaining walls, kicking a foot back to rest upon the stone.

"So, where's your friend? Shouldn't he be here by now?" he asks idly rather than impatiently.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare shrugs neutrally. I couldn't imagine what he's doing, really. Harold is... sort of an odd fit for this job. Land-lubber all the way, doesn't like risking his skin at all. But I like him well enough. Sometimes I just wish he'd be a bit more adventurous and keep his mind on the task at hand.

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

A pensive expression occupies the halfling's face for a few moments, then vanishes.

"Well, I just hope he doesn't take much longer. It's always best to travel with the sun up, and we're losing more and more of it."

Schorbuk actually does glance upwards, seemingly taking a mental measurement of the sun's position and gauging the remaining daylight.

He then turns to Maximillian and asks, "Any rest stops within eight hours?"

[Deepblue706]

Maximilian shakes his head. "No - in fact, unless we stumble across a farm or cottage, we will not have any real shelter until we arrive at our destination." He looks to the boy. "Willard, you have a weapon, yes?" The boy nods, and reveals a light mace. "Anything tries to hurt us, I'll give it a good bashing!" Len seems amused.

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold
Around the corner strolls Harold Betruger, whistling softly to himself as he goes.
Spotting the group, he gives a little wave and approaches.
"Splendid, splendid. Sorry about the delay; I had to drop by the inn to pick up my crossbow. But with that, I believe we're ready for you to lead the way, hm?"

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare smiles at Harold. I didn't know you had a crossbow. I guess I can't really blame you for having to finish things up here, since we didn't have a lot of notice. But anyway, no sense spending any more of the morning at these gates. Come on everyone! He pulls out his own crossbow as he steps through the gates, giving Len time to pass him so that she can walk in front.

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

Schorbuk, having been idly glacing at a young human woman in the midst of passing by, reluctantly dragged his attention away as Harold announced his arrival. He looks relieved that the wait was over and pushing himself away from the wall, tests the flexible yet semi-rigid three-quarter loops on his belt which held his bolas at the ready. Satisfied, he falls in with the others, staying to the right hand side of the road.

Within the first few steps, he's slipped a supple sling with a rust-colored pocket and dull yellow cords from the other side of his belt, and begins twirling it idly.

"I think it was the poet Marchamp that said, 'I take thee one step on another to yield a pocket full of music.' Apparently he was a traveling rhymer. Though, now that I think on it, I don't believe he ever actually rhymed anything. No matter, it's the thought that counts."

With a twist to one side of his nose and a forced sniff as if to change his own subject, he inhales deeply and smiles. "Already smells better out here."

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold walks along as well,his hands clasped lightly behind his back.
" 'It's the thought that counts' always struck me as a bit tautological, triteness aside."

[Deepblue706]

Willard seems lost to the conversation, but Maximilian cracks a smile at the words sent back and forth. After a moment, he finally steps forward. "Alright, it looks like we're ready to go. Shall we?" The man and the boy companion begin marching off, and are wished a safe journey by the two guards. "May the hand of God protect you!"

As you follow, the guards wish the same fortune upon you, and remind you to keep your eyes out for bandits.

The journey north, beginning already - before even mid-day - is peaceful and quiet. If you could afford horses, travel would certainly be made easy - but then, you might not be as able to soak in the beauty the countryside has to offer. Immediately after leaving the gates, your eyes gaze upon lush rolling hills that reach far into the distance. But, the beauty abruptly ends when, to one side of the road, you spot a small line of travellers and merchants, slowly coming into the city with goods from surrounding villages and townships - among them mostly humans. The vulgarity of their speech and quality (or lacking of therein) of their clothing suggests a poor, lower-class lot - plenty of which the city already has in its slum-like sub-districts. A few turn their heads to you as you walk, but their interest in you is fleeting.

Beyond the poor lot, you continue for some time, adoring a glorious landscape. Taking small breaks here and there, the lengthy walk brings you a short distance from the forest before the sun begins to set. Maximilian confirms, through use small item that he confirms to be a "water clock", that over seven hours have fully passed, and suggests the group set up a camp. "Willard, you did remember the tent spikes, yes? We'll need to set up soon." He glances around. "You're the experts - any suggestions on how we should keep safe out here?"

The immediate area consists of sparse trees and more-or-less a level field to the east, growing less and less fertile - even slightly barren - up until a very hilly region that borders the sea, miles away. Woods extending from the north to the west begin to encompass you, and the calls of the creatures within can begin to be heard. Further north, the road extends into the wooded path, a dark passage that seems less than inviting. A glance south reminds you of the hills you crossed to come to this point - the brilliant Porto Giedion a small image in the distance, to those who can even see it.

[Ya Ta Hey!]

OOC: Oh, what the hell, I can spare five minutes.

"Keep night watch, sleep with our weapons and most of all, build a fire; animals should stay away, and if bandits want to finds us, I'm sure it won't make a difference given how bad you guys snore...and I'd rather be able to see them coming when they do."

(Len suddenly realizes she just volunteered herself for watch. Damn it.)

She nods toward the field. "Also, lets not give them a lot of cover to work with. Can we camp over there?"

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold glances Maximillian's way.
"Here in the wild? Barely tell you which way is North, me. I prefer a more sophisticated environment, myself. I defer of course to the Lady Len's tactical expertise here."
He strokes the bridge of his nose.
hm. Might be getting some sunburn there. Still, does you good to get outside, I s'pose.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare glances around with a quizzical tilt of his head. I'm a bit out of my element as well. Though, usually during nighttime we had the crow's nest manned. Let's set up watch here as well. I'll go first. With that, he unrolls his bedroll and then sets to work collecting likely pieces of firewood.

[Ya Ta Hey!]

"Cool." Len concludes absently, peering out into the forest for movement. At the moment, however, her mind is on small game and she's tempted to borrow Harold's crossbow; Trail rations upset her stomach.

*Len looks at some trees. If there isn't anything, then she goes and helps pitch the tent*

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

Understanding Flare's remark about being out of his element, Schorbuk scans around the chosen campsite for the nearest trees. While he was only rarely assigned to watch duty in the nest, he found it more effective, providing a much wider field of view and thought a conveniently placed tree could serve just as well. His eyes, though, used to be razor sharp before a deckhand decided it would be amusing to place sparking power and a trigger rigged to ignite it when the next person passed through into the lower bunking area. A spot he knew the captain and first mate would never bother to visit, of course. Unfortunately, the callow swabbie was less an alchemist and more a complete moron, and there was far too much powder for the intended effect of only a few moments of disorienting blindness. It took a full week before Schorbuk could see at all, and since then, his vision was no better or worse than the average man's.

Sneering at his memories, Schorbuk declares he'll take second watch and reserves any outward comment regarding his efficacy in that area.

[Ya Ta Hey!]

Len gives up on the woods and heads back to help with the ten, but then gets an idea.

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OOC: I think I remember it being late summer, right?

Over the course of a few trips, she gathers up several armloads of dry twigs and leaves, scattering them in the grass around the campsite, particularly around any dips, brush, or anything else that would otherwise conceal an approach. They should make plenty of noise when trod upon.

Craft: LenGuyver Ghetto Early Warning System™ (1d20+7)[10]

With a self-congratulatory smile, she returns to the tent to help.

Aid Another(?) (1d20+3)[18]

[Deepblue706]

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OOC: Correct.

Following Len's lead, Maximilian and Willard move their equipment further towards the open field, and begin to pitch the tent. Len encircles the perimeter with what leaves and twigs were to be found in the area, but the good idea seems to be given poor implementation - as some areas seem slightly neglected and the line that runs around the area is a bit thin. But, considering what materials were to be found in the field, perhaps it's the best that could be made of the situation.

As the tent comes up, the canvas doesn't seem large enough for your entire group. "Did none of you bring a tent of your own?" Maximilian asks with a touch of sympathy. "We'll share what room we can, but I think it'll be a bit crowded..."

Schorbuk has no trouble finding a nearby tree - one stands less than ten feet from the chosen camp spot. It stands fairly tall, and doesn't appear to be very easy to climb - for the inexperienced climber, anyway.

Len spots no game in view, but is sure there are plenty of animals to be found in the forest. However, as it's getting dark, perhaps it may not be wise to enter the woods without a light.

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

Used to sleeping in an always available bunk below decks, Schorbuk blinked at Maximillian's remark. "Well, no. I don't think so," he said slightly sheepishly with a querying glance to those others that stood nearby. "I mean, I rather expected that level of basics to have been catered to. We're escorts, not packhorses."

He scratched his cheek and shrugged. "I can do with a blanket, if you have an extra. Oh, and some rope. Got any rope? Twenty feet should be enough, more is okay, too. You'll get it back in the morning, so no worries."

OOC

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How high are the lowest branches of this friendly tree? And what sort of climb DC estimate would I be looking at with a rope lashed around a branch?

[Ya Ta Hey!]

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OOC: I've got +5 climb, and this may be my only chance to use it--ever.

Len finds Schorbuck staring appraisingly at a fairly daunting tree, and her suspiscions are confirmed when he asks for rope.

She ambles over, "I used to have rope until someone got me in trouble with the law--but uh, how about a boost?"

She cups her hands, offering a foothold. Hopefully, he isn't one of those pissy halflings that are too insecure to accept help (they're annoying!).

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And as soon as I look at the SRD, I can make the appropriate roll for helping someone with a skill check. Hang on a minute

[Ya Ta Hey!]

Aid Another: Climb (1d20+5)[15]

OOC: I hope that's correct. C'mon dice, give my homy +2 climb.

...you have no idea how pathetic it felt to type that.

[Deepblue706]

The tree's lowest branches are within reach of the average human (at about six feet off the ground), a bit high for Schorbuk to reach alone. However, above this level are many branches, enough to support a higher climb for just about anyone who can fit.

Willard quickly pulls a nice, thick blanket from the pack he earlier set on the ground, leaving it on top. "This is for you, mister Halfling! I'll leave it right here!" He scratches his head, and then looks to Maximilian. "Yeah, we've got some rope." He says, gesturing to another pack. "In there." He then takes a moment to take in his surroundings, and then finally pulls a strange twig from a pouch at his belt. He twiddles it in his fingers, and then vacantly says "Let's get that fire started."

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

Schorbuk takes the blanket set out for him, then procedes to rummage around in the second pack indicated by Willard. "Hmmm...."

"Who's is this!?" he asks, producing and brandishing a small wooden carving of a naked woman. An elf, by the looks of it.

"Umm...nevermind." The little icon disappears back into the pack, followed quickly by a mild exclamation of triumph. "Aha, gotcha!"

A coil of hemp rope, obviously aged but apparently none the worse for wear, is drawn from the pack. With that and his new blanket, Schorbuk looks about, and picks a spot not far, but not too close to the eventual fire. A few moments and he's rolled up tight in the oversized blanket, looking a little like a piling termite in its protective cocoon.

Eyes already closed, he says, "Wake me for watch. 'Nite."

[Ya Ta Hey!]

OOC

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I didn't see anything in the SRD, but is there any provision (SRD or House rules) for a character to gain experience through practice drills, or is the only way to advance through trial by fire, so to speak? Like, suppose you made an INT roll and passed a certain DC (kinda like when Harold made money with his mandolin), thereby gaining a small morsel of XP or something whenever you did it but would be subject to the same time/situation restrictions as healing? Heck, I'd even be open to attempting any crazy, Mr. Miyagi-like drill you might decide upon.

Whether or not there's a tangible benefit, Len's going to do some drills and if you do have a fair way that I could make something of it on a regular basis, I'm all ears.

But I don't wanna be tamale the cheater, though. If that would be unfair or impossible for other players to take advantage of, then forget I asked

The sun dips into the red wine horizon and a symphony of crickets begin their chittering overture. Stealing Schorbuck's idea, Len perches in the tree and gazes dreamily at Porto Gideon, and moreover at the ocean beyond. She has always wanted to paint something like that and resolves to learn how someday. Forget material wealth, its exercising her creative and expressive faculties that makes her happy.

After eating (lightly), Len finds a vacant spot by the fire and begins to stretch. The body tends to pool blood into muscles that undergo prolonged strain, and that is what causes the stiff feeling in overworked muscles. Len, having been on her feet all day, practices some roundhouse snap kicks for a while.

Unimproved Unarmed Strike (+1 BAB, +3 Str, -4): (1d20)[20]

Sadly, the only familiar thing about these moves is the way her hair whips around into her face every time. Gone, is her former grace.

When she feels sufficiently warmed up, she frees the broadsword, really studying it for the first time. While she has always prefered polearms or flail-construction weapons, she used to have a few rigid bladed weapons in her inventory. This broadsword resembles the shaft of her zhainan, minus the pick-axe like head.

She spends the next while pawing and posturing, trying to root out any trace of wasted motion in her techniques and achieve the utmost fluidity.

Attack: Thin air. Lots of times. (1d20+4)[10]

It's fun. Finally, the evening sky's solemn, rich blue deepens into night. Not wanting to trip in the darkness and impale herself, Len resheaths the broadsword and sits down in the dewy grass.

"I bet you never had that much fun practicing spells," she jokes good naturedly to Flare.

"Except for those missiles, maybe." She appends after a thought.

[Deepblue706]

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I just worked a really long shift. So, no post tonight/this morning/whatever. It's 3 am here. Also, tamale, no XPs through checks like that. Actually, I kinda presume you guys ARE practicing stuff all the time, which is why you don't get a -1 "Rusty" penalty after journeying for a month without a fight, should it ever happen. But, I do actually like knowing you're explicitly making an effort to make your character appear more believable (practicing is something a lot of people overlook or just occasionally imply). I think I'm going to sleep now.

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold watches idly on as Len goes through her exercises for a while, but then he drifts off to sleep, head bowed on his chest and his blond hair ruffled by the passing breezes.

[Deepblue706]

While some go to bed early, Len continues to practice a bit more. Willard watches in awe at her graceful movements, eyes open wide and mouth agape at anything that one couldn't expect a child to do. The boy was soon to reach adulthood, but his attitude in this instance was that of a boy much younger.

A twig snap.

It's just Maximilian, who, with a few small pieces of wood under arm, steps into view. He tosses the kindling into the fire, and watches it burn. He yawns, and looks to young Willard. "You should turn in. It's late." The boy agrees, and enters the small tent, and pulls a blanket over himself. Max looks to Len with tired eyes, giving her a nod before he decides to retire as well.

A growl.

Maximiliam stops in his tracks, looking out into the abyss that surrounds the camp. Len can certainly sense something out there, but it's hard to know where. As the two stand near the fire, they can sense at least one pair of eyes upon them, and are certain it is encircling the camp. The anxious nobleman grips the hilt of the sword at his belt, keeping ever alert of his surroundings. "I'll stay up with you." he says with resolution, as he glances over each sleeping member of the party.

Throughout the night, party-members take their shifts, and the camp lasts the night without any attack. The sun finally appears again, and each of the party begin to awake for another day of travel. Willard, up early, seems to have discovered some animal tracks surrounding your encampment.

[Ya Ta Hey!]

Len ambles up in response to Willard's discovery, looking for the wettest soil that the animal walked through for a clear imprint.

In particular, she studys the tracks for sharp leading divets that would denote claws, which is a sure way to differentiate what kind of predator it was. Most canines or felines are easily deterred, but bears are not to be taken lightly.

Survival: Animal Tracks 1d20 + WIS (1d20)[12]

OOC

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Would this be a take ten situation? The SRD confused me as to what that's all about, but I think that's where you make multiple attempts at a single skill check and take the average score, right?

If so, (10d20)[93] /10 = ???

"Yup. Someone out there has some baaaad toenails." she jestingly concludes before returning to help break camp.

"So tell me, Fargrim." She begins discreetly at an opportune moment. "Whats it gonna take to get that amulet back?"

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

Extricating himself from his borrowed blanket, the halfling rises like an oversized bug from a rolled carpet, arms twisting this way and that to work out the kinks. The blanket helped, but the ground was still a lot harder than a nice hammock; and it didn't sway properly.

Arms akimbo as he cracks his back, he smacks his sticky lips together to loosen his tongue, and asks, "So, what's for breakfast?"

OOC - tmt

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Take 10 is usually used when you know you can make a needed roll with a 10 and don't want to make actual rolls to achieve it, say, if a low roll might blow a charge/use of something involved in the skill check. Can only be used when not threatened or being rushed, as it assumes you're taking your time to be deliberate and aren't being distracted. Exceptions exist, of course. So, your roll isn't an average of 10 rolls, but rather your flat skill modifier + 10. I think looking for tracks in this case is even a Take 20 situation, since there's no penalty for failing other than literally not seeing tracks with a 20 + skill mod, and we're not rushed, etc.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Donning his fingerless leather gloves and veiled hat (the entire space around him seeming to grow dimmer as he does so), Flare quietly gathers his things, content as ever until to fade into the background until fate calls upon him for a greater role.

When Len speaks with Fargrim, Flare is (by chance?) nearby, watching the exchange in silence.

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold
Oblivious, the minstrel slumbers on.

[Deepblue706]

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Correct me if I'm wrong, Tamale - but I don't believe you have the Track feat. Your absolute maximum result is a 10. I'll let you take 10 with no problem tho (and yeah, you just assign your roll to be a 10 under safe conditions).

Willard points out that the tracks are most likely from wolves. He seems certain there were either two or three of them last night - Len's instincts accept that is very plausible.

Flare watches Len as she turns to the silent, disgruntled cleric, who seems to have not slept well, last night. "Get me outta this mess, an' it's yours." He replies to her question, as he scans the landscape.

At Schorbuk's asking for breakfast, he finds a small pouch land on his lap. "Unless you wanna go out and find something fresh, you've got some nuts, dried meat and fruit in there." says Maximilian, standing not that far away. "I had Willard pick up a bunch of it before we left, yesterday - not bad stuff." He yawns, and then grabs another set of rations for himself. "We should pack up and get moving in an hour or so - until then, take some time to wake up and get something in your stomachs." He gestures to one of the large bags Willard brought along, among the ones that lay beside the tent.