Dyer's Kingmaker IC

[DyerMaker]

---

26, Calistril, 4717

Snow falls in large flakes like white feathers drifting slowly before you. In each direction the land is covered in a plush blanket of powder-white snow. It is cold, very cold. For those without the gift of magic or alchemical tincture to warm them, winter cuts like knives of ice. The road from Restov to Fort Dahlia is a slog of snow and mud. The iron wagon wheels dig deep as the Nidarrmars pull vigorously toward your destination. Fort Dahlia, the abandoned border fort that once buzzed with infantry and archers, is now a successful trading post at Rostland's southernmost point. Fort Dahlia is to serve as the launching point for your exploration into the Stolen Lands. Not far ahead, the fort rests on a slight hill among the plains. To the west, a grouping of vultures circles low to the ground. To the east, the calm cold of winter. A River Goldfinch flies into the wagon, perching near Yrsa. It ruffles its feathers, freeing itself from a dusting of snow.

[Athaleon]

Alexei Surtova

Alexei curled up miserably beneath his thick coat, staring at the little bird without much of a change in expression. Nor did he want to scare it away, so he just continued to stare at it in silence. Better than contemplating the circling vultures, or cursing for the hundredth time the decision to send the expedition while winter still gripped the country.

[dathom]

Baolo Riverspeaker

Baolo spends most of the trip in the seat at the head of the wagon, switching off driving duty whenever it is his turn. The higher seat provides him with a good view of the snowy land around the group while affording him the chance to keep an eye on the canoe strapped to the wagon. While not large or broad shouldered by any means, Baolo looks rough, the wool of his clothing bedraggled and simple. His shoulder length, brown hair is decked out with small fetishes that match the larger wood and string fetishes that hang from his belt, left wrist and tops of his boots. From his belt also hangs a simple hand axe and a shortbow with a quiver of arrows rest just behind his seat. A small, brown-furred rat occasionally peaks its head out from under the former brigand's clothing, quick to dive back in to share Baolo's warmth under the heavy wool clothing. The man's shoulders slouch a bit against the wind whenever it picks up, a shiver shaking his body in response. Outside of that, the man seems quite accustomed to the cold, not complaining at all about the cold throughout the entirety of the trip to the fort. When his face isn't wrapped against the cold, a bushy brown beard keeps the man's face warm instead. Though he looked like any other brigand, an intensity in his gaze and strange feeling about the man hinted at some strange power that rested under the dirty wool clothing and wind blasted skin.

Turning to the group, the Baolo smirks slightly as Alexei huddles miserably under his coat before the former brigand mutters, "Not much further now I reckon. Some of you city folk best be changing into any clothing that'd help protect against the frost that hits this place. I don't fancy having to help keep any of you warm." However, his gaze lingering on Ysra a bit longer as the gold finch landed near her suggests that the former brigand wasn't necessarily speaking the full truth about his willingness to assist.

[Tavarokk]

Yrsa Wyrn

Turning away from observing the bird, Yrsa stretches languidly with an air of smugness about her, showing off her utter lack of discomfort from wearing naught but an elaborate scrap of silk in this dreadful weather.

"I dare say, I'm doing pretty well in that regard so far," she smiles. "Although if any of you is interested in some warmth-keeping, feel free to ask - far it be for me to turn away a teammate in need."

[grifter730]

Cormac:

Cormac spent much of the journey walking in silent companionship with Stranger-Come-Knocking. She was an ornery little wretch, but he's raised her from birth, so it was his own fault he reckons. Suppose it would've helped if he was a bear and knew how to raise one right and proper. Still, they were a right match, the two of them, with a bond stronger than blood. It was nice to have her to rely on.

Cormac wasn't sure what to make of the rest of the group. One was clearly dressed as a brigand, much like the way Cormac himself looked, he supposed. The other one looked like she just walked out of heaven's own brother. If deities ever went whoring, Cormac reckons they spent their coin on her. She's a bit too open for his liking, never know what one would catch walkin' in that door. The one huddled like he's never been outdoor clearly is some pampered boy, Cormac was surprised the man made it this far. Won't be able to depend on that one to watch his back. Then there's the tinkerer. Gods only know what use she'll be. Cormac sighed at his situation. The Swordlords may as well have sentenced him to walk through the Last Door. Still, he's free, walking out with Winter's fresh breath on his skin, and Stranger-Come-Knocking at his side. Things could be much worse.

Like whatever's below those vultures over there.

Cormac bit his lip and made a whistling sound to catch the attention of his companions, and nodded over to the vultures. He pondered how far away they were, debating whether to take a look. Might be able to get Stranger-Come-Knocking get some proper exercise.

[dathom]

Baolo Riverspeaker

Racing his bundled face first to Cormac and then to the vultures that the man is pointing to, Baolo's eyes squint in the winter light before responding, "Probably the carcass of some animal, or some poor sod who didn't know how to fend for himself out here." Then, gesturing towards the fort, Barolo continues with, "Don't know about you all, but Bobbers and me are looking to get out of the cold and in front of a warm fire. Maybe even a bit of grub, if that fort has any ta spare." For any who paid attention to the man's mumbling during the trip so far, they would know Bobbers is the rat that the man would often spend the morning hours staring almost meditatively at before assisting as the group in breaking camp.

[grifter730]

Cormac:

Cormac tilted his head sideways, staring at the vultures. "Only about a couple miles out," he responds to Baolo. Walking a few more steps in thought, he pats Stranger-Come-Knocking. "We'll catch up with you down the road. A couple miles of vigorous running would be good for my friend here. Besides, there's no better time to start our investigation and clearing the area."

[DyerMaker]

Cormac moves west toward the vultures. What do you do?; continue toward the fort or go with Cormac?

[Tavarokk]

Yrsa pokes her head outside and eyes the distand birds circling in the air.

"I suppose it would be very dashing and dramatic if we were to up and run into a vital lead in such a way just as we arrive," she muses. "Pretty unlikely, though, and staring at carrion is not something that appeals to my curiosity, thruth be told. I'd rather we at least left the wagon safely at the fort first to save ourselves the hassle of dragging it along for this detour."

[Athaleon]

"We should stick together in any case," Alexei suggested, "but if you wish to investigate a dead animal in the woods and come running to catch up afterwards, I shall not stop you."

[grifter730]

Cormac:

Cormac taps his hat, winks, and clicks his tongue at the group, before turning back to pat his grizzly companion. "Looks like it's just you and me still, old girl. Let's git!"

[DyerMaker]

Fort Dahlia rests on a small hill with a few old-growth trees surrounding the property and an orchard of three rows to the east of the walled fort. Dahlia's trading post is surrounded by a wooden palisade that
stands 12 feet high. At each corner of the palisade are 20-foot square watchtowers, each armed with a catapult left over from the site’s original use as a border fort. There’s one entrance through the palisade—a two door, 20-foot-wide wooden gate. Both the fort walls and the gate appear to be soaked in some sort of reddish tar; this presents a stark contrast against the snow-covered landscape. There is no movement or activity readily noticeable.

[dathom]

Baolo pulls back on the reigns gently, slowing the horses and coming to a stop about fifty feet from the gate. Waiting a moment, Baolo then calls, "Hey! Anyone there! We're comin' out of Restov. Wouldn't mind a place to hole up for the day."

[DyerMaker]

A gruff voice calls out from the foremost eastern tower, Who you'n say'n 'un are?
The man leans over the wall a bit, shifting his weight as if to physically throw his voice in your direction. He is dressed in furs with a tall, fur hat.

---

Cormac and Stranger approach the area where the vultures circle. A large, dark shape appears to lie in the snow, now only 100 feet away. The shape resembles a horse or some large quadruped creature.

[grifter730]

Cormac:

Cormac stayed still under cover and surveyed the surrounding area. Stranger-Come-Knocking holds his pose mid-stride as only animals seem able to do. This was common habit for both of them. He was certain whoever or whatever was responsible for the presumed carcass ahead was long gone, but Cormac didn't survive in the wild for as long as he did by assuming things and moving on.

After several minutes [if nothing shows up], Cormac moves slowly forward, trying to find what may have done this even as he stealths his way to the corpse.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Perception: (1d20+6)[19]
Stealth: (1d20+7)[10]
Survival (Tracking): (1d20+6)[20]

[dathom]

"Tha name's Baolo! Me and tha others here are part of a charter to explore the land south of your fort ," Baolo replies in an equally gruff manner. "Any chance you can open tha gate and let us through. It is might cold out and it's be nice ta have those walls around us!"

[DyerMaker]

Cormac's keen perception reveals the creature to be a horse. Consumed by rigor mortis and petrified by the cold, the horse is frozen with its legs extended. Small, icy spiders scatter from the horse as Cormac draws closer. Using his skill in survival, Cormac notices frozen drops and pools of blood with humanoid boot prints traveling further west.

---

When Baolo responds, the fur-clad man moves around the palisade closer to the gate. 'Ight 'ere. We ben spect'n you'n. Say, 'ere. Got any paint'd ladies wit cha? With that remark, the man waves his arm to someone within the fort and the left-hand door begins to open. In this moment you see an older dwarf male, balding with a white beard pushing the door. There is a large raven hovering and pecking at his back as he pushes with all of his might to force the gate open. The dwarf gives you a brief nod, then opens the second door.

Immediately forward is an open yard with two tables near a fire pit that currently blooms with flame. Guest houses flank the tables and fire pit. To the left is a large stable. The dwarf grunts and gestures for you to pull forward toward the stable.

What's your next move?

[Athaleon]

"There's another fellow with us named Cormac, who should be just a few minutes behind. He'll have a big brown bear with him: tame, naturally." Alexei's spirits picked up a little as he anticipated a fire and solid, albeit crude, lodgings. He'd leave any indignation at the man's query to the ladies.

[dathom]

Though is is obvious that Baolo was no expert at the reigns, he clumsily coaxes the horses pulling the cart into the palisades. As he does so, the brigand witch replies, "Whether she is painted or not is for her to tell you. Careful though, for though she's been friendly enough on the trip here, she looks strong enough to leave a right proper black eye on anyone who would think to cross her." Then, following the dwarf's instruciton, he slowly gets the horses to head towards the stable, continuing with, "Why do you want to know?"

[Tavarokk]

"I would hazard a guess, given him jumping straight to that question regardless of how ridiculously unlikely that would've normally been," Yrsa huffs in amusement, emerging from the back of the wagon and coming up to join the conversation. "Fate really does work in mysterious ways."

[grifter730]

Cormac:

Cormac slowly examined the ground around the dead horse, everything was frozen stiff, of course. That made for a nice way to track, should he feel inclined to. The frozen pools of blood and boot prints are certainly singing to him, beckoning him forward, as are the small icy spiders that scattered at his approach. He looked over at the horse with closer inspection--not too close to those spiders though--and wondered what tales the beast might regale in death.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Heal: (1d20+2)[19] (to find out what might've killed the horse; also want to see if there's some wounds on the creature.)
Survival: (1d20+6)[19] (to find out if the pool of blood belonged to the horse or the creature that made the bootprints.)

[DyerMaker]

Once inside the gate, the dwarf closes the reinforced wooden doors as a gust of cold air blows inward. The raven at his back flies off and circles the fort. Grrr, the dwarf grunts as he turns toward your wagon.

The fur-glad man makes his exit from the palisade via a corner set of stairs—an average-sized man, made broader by the layers of hide upon his back. He makes his way toward the wagon; You'n call me 'ol Spur. Ben 'round 'eez parts f'er some time. Catching a glimpse of Yrsa, 'ol Spur goes quiet and quickly hooks the wad of tobacco from his left cheek, tossing it aside. Grabbing his hat, he crumples it a bit as he brings his hands together; W'ell ma'am if you'n ain't 'ur pret'est thang I seen all w'nter.

A young girl approaches from the rear of the fort. Let's get those horses in the stable and get these folks inside for some grub. Both, 'ol Spur and the dwarf respond to her command. The girl passes for human but certainly has some elf in her ancestry. Heard y'all were coming. I'm Svetlana, my mother and I run this post. I'll have your names, please.

---

Cormac examines the horse, learning that the wounds were caused by a large claw or talon. There is a considerable amount of blood that does belong to the horse. Cormac's intuition is that whatever humanoid made the westward tracks, is also bleeding. Monstrous blood may or may not be mixed with that of the horse. Nothing of the sort is apparent.

[Athaleon]

Alexei

As the party passed by Ol' Spur, Alexei greeted him with a nod, and shot him a bit of a look as he greeted Yrsa.

After Svetlana introduced herself to the party, he spoke up first. "Well met indeed. I am Alexei," he introduced himself with an ingratiating smile. "This is Yrsa and Baolo. Another of our party, fellow named Cormac, should be joining us soon."

[grifter730]

Cormac:

Those claw or talon wounds on the horse didn't look particularly inviting, but those bootprints, and the possibility of a bleeding person on the run was tugging at Cormac's heart. Still got a bit of time yet, Cormac thought to himself. What if it's an injured person needing help? Can't be abandoning innocent folks that we might soon be lookin' to protect. Perhaps just another mile or two.

Cormac clicks his tongue at Stranger-Come-Knocking, and nods westward, walking and tracking the bootprints and blood as he goes.

[dathom]

Baolo Riverspeaker

"Aye. Th' name's Baolo," Boalo says in response as he descends from the wagon and works to get the horses freed from the wagon. His alert eyes shift from the dwarf and ol' Spur to Svetlana as he continued, "Nice place you gots here out here, hehe..." As he spoke his almost wild looking eyes wandered from the buildings to the palisades, "So wha' is there ta eat and what's th' price?"

[Tavarokk]

Yrsa Wyrn

"Merely all winter? I guess I'll have to try harder then," Yrsa replies with a smile before turning to the girl who came out to greet them. "A pleasure to meet you, Svetlana."

Spoiler: Position

Show

S34

[DyerMaker]

Svetlana listened carefully to all of the introductions. Pointing to the fur-clad man; I see you have met ol'Spur. She then nods to the dwarf; And that there is Egg, he's our horse and animal expert 'round here. Don't mind that old crow of his, she's harmless.

Svetlana places her hands behind her back, rocking on her feet to address Baolo; The price is five silvers per day. That'll cover your lodging, cold bath, and one hot meal a-day. For your horses, two silvers per horse a-day. Egg keeps'm fed, watered, and clean. Svetlana points to the guesthouses that flank the fire pit—where ol'Spur has moved to for warmth; There are four beds in each guesthouse. ol'Spur is stay'n in that one. Maybe when your other companion shows up, they can bunk with him. That's up to y'all. Why don't you all get settled, then come to the main lodge and meet Dahlia—that's mom.

Svetlana pauses for a moment, then returns to the main lodge (#6-12) behind the second guesthouse.
OOC: Take what time you need to look around, get settled, role-play, etc.

[DyerMaker]

Cormac:
Those claw or talon wounds on the horse didn't look particularly inviting, but those bootprints, and the possibility of a bleeding person on the run was tugging at Cormac's heart. Still got a bit of time yet, Cormac thought to himself. What if it's an injured person needing help? Can't be abandoning innocent folks that we might soon be lookin' to protect. Perhaps just another mile or two. Cormac clicks his tongue at Stranger-Come-Knocking, and nods westward, walking and tracking the bootprints and blood as he goes.

Cormac and SCK trek through snow that becomes deeper with every hundred feet or so. A mile further west and cresting a small hill, SCK stops still in a predatory manner. The footprints stop and drag marks of blood and mud in the snow appear. There, near what appears to be a cave entrance, a horrific creature with elephantine legs, a bulbous torso with flailing, octopus-like tentacles uses one of its appendages to drag a humanoid toward the lair. The humanoid is clad in leather with long, blood-stained hair. The cave and creature are no more than 150 feet from you.

[grifter730]

Cormac:

Cormac held his breath as he watched the strange creature drag the humanoid. Keeping his eyes at the creature and the cave entrance, Cormac ponders his next move.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Survival: (1d20+6)[14] to see if I can tell how many creatures fought at this location prior to the start at the dragging.
Perception: (1d20+6)[25] to see if there are claws/talons on the creature dragging the humanoid.
Knowledge (arcane): (1d20+2)[7] to identify the creature dragging the humanoid.

[redfeline]

Standing at R35, Sarah blushes a little at the banter of Yrsa and Svetlana. Sarah thinks to herself, She seems confident even in this tactless set of conditions. I best speak up, less I be forgotten.

Sarah, I am here to make sure the cart stays in good repair and such. We have a long road ahead. Tell me,
do you have a herbalist in residence? I would like to gather some supplies for the trip ahead of us. She leaves out her sir name, after all it is best that her family not become involved, at least not yet.