Peril & Fame: Interlude (IC)

[Nefarion Xid]

Chapter 1 - High and Dry

It’s just a little rain. That’s what you thought six hours ago and now it shows no sign of stopping. It's only gotten worse and it’s not yet sundown. Not that it matters, black as it is in this storm.

You can make out the dim blue-white glean of cobbles beneath your feet. The Old Empire’s roads are slick as sin when wet, polished by a thousand years of boots and weather, but at least they’re level and you can follow them blind. They always lead somewhere. Usually it’s somewhere good.

When the lightning flashes, you see the arches and piers of a bridge ahead. Bridges mean rivers. Rivers mean civilization. Civilization means warm food. Normally, a river wouldn’t be the safest place in a torrential downpour, but the bridge is ancient. It’s hasn’t washed away yet and it’s been here an age or two, flash floods be damned. It will probably still be here when this kingdom crumbles and everyone’s speaking a different language. Maybe the praefecti are laughing at the people living ephemeral lives in the ruins of their empire, but they’re as dead as everyone else.

Half a mile off yet, you discern the outline of some sort of gatehouse or tiny castle, a squat L-shaped tower complex at the midpoint of the bridge, rising straight out of the rocky island. The glow of a fire is visible through the arched windows on the lower level. After an evening caught out in a storm, it might as well be the open gates of Heaven.

Spoiler: All

Show

The temperature is hovering around 40 degrees and the soaking rain is absolutely miserable.

Describe how you might have kept the rain off of you. This is probably a Survival check with a DC of 16 unless you think of an appropriate spell or something else very creative. Should you fail to stay dry, make a DC 16 Fortitude save vs Fatigue. This Fatigue can thankfully be alleviated by an hour of rest, dry clothes and warming up.

Go ahead and post once, and then I will update before you reach the bridge.

Spoiler: Tombossa

Show

You very pleased with yourself for knowing the proper declension for 'praefectus'. Unfortunately, you also believe that Praefectus just a really common given name because it's always first on all these old statues. Like, if you wanted your kid to be successful enough to get statues made in his image, name him Praefectus. They always got some great government job. Naming your kid Hastatus is just setting him up for failure because there are tons of grave markers with HASTATVS written on them.

You have a hefty resistance to Cold. The cold rain is more of an annoyance than a source of misery, thus you do not have to make a Fortitude save.

[Tychris1]

"I guess I grew up on an old dirt road
Petal made o' metal always did what I was told
'Till I found out that my brand new clothes
Came second hand from the rich kids next door
When I grew up fast I guess I grew up mean
There's a thousand things inside my head I wish I ain't seen
And now I just wander through a real bad dream
Feelin' like I'm coming apart at the seams..."

The young woman slowly sang to herself as she sat amidst the weathered trees, left leg hanging haphazardly off the branch she was laying on, and her hands were quickly at work threading together a clump of leaves with her rope. Snaking around the length of rotten wood, its stained form became suddenly rigid as she pirouetted off the side, and landed on the wet ground. Rope in hand, she gave it a smirk, snorted, and without looking the rope untied itself and began to coil around her body forming an impromptu rain coat. Bristling with mud and leaves she smiled and began to skip ahead to the bridge.

Spoiler: Survival!

Show

(1d20+13)[15]

[Othniel]

A tall, thin man trudged forward. He was cold, colder than he should have been, but he wasn't dressed for the weather, wearing only a loose linen outfit. The last nice place he'd been hadn't had any rain, and he'd become too comfortable. He glanced up as the lightning flashed and his hopes rose as he glimpsed first the bridge and then the structure in the distance. He grasped the hilt of the curved knife on his belt as if to reassure himself of its presence and pressed onward, the hope of warmth and food giving him the focus to shrug off the elements.

[zabbarot]

It was miserable out, but he had seen worse. He was going to need a fire to dry out his cloak though. Not much of a chance of getting that in some random burrow, assuming he could even find one out here, but the lights ahead looked promising. He hopped a little faster in anticipation of being out of the rain.

Spoiler: Rollin?

Show

Survival! (1d20)[15]
Fort Save, because i doubt that will succeed (1d20+11)[23]

[Tychris1]

”Ew, sh*t.... agh, muh mouth too? Facken hells, wait.” She stopped trudging against the rain and turned her back against the wind. Shaking herself loose, she dropped the end of her rope upon the ground, and watched as the straight length of rope instantly turned into a noose when touching the ground. Gazing into its gaping hole she glanced from side to side on the old cobble road and shrugged.

“Fukkit. It’s not too far away.”

She let the rope limply drag behind her, snickering as it snaked about seemingly of its own accord, and continued to whistle her jaunty tune.

[Jade_Tarem]

That the rain was not an immediate threat to Tombossa didn't mean he wasn't annoyed. Still, he'd learned long ago that no one likes a whiner, so he kept a sardonic grin fixed firmly in place and carried on, long feline tail lashing behind him in a whip of white and scarlet to showcase his agitation. He didn't quite know the history of these lands, or the local forecast, or even where the hell they were, but people? Tombossa knew people, and with this knowledge came the realization that trite words of empty encouragement would get him punched. Instead he strode forth fabulously, putting just a bit of forced swagger into his march. Follow me! I know what I'm doing!

[Lord Of Mantas]

Frederick

Frederick was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

There had been several of those lately, but with as hard as the rain was pouring down, he had no time to reminisce on past happenings. Shivering mightily, he pulled his grey-green cloak tightly around his grey-furred body, trying as best he could to keep warm. He let out a silent prayer that at the very least his backpack was waterproof, as he had very little idea of what he would do if anything inside got damaged. Marching steadily ahead, he tried as best he could to keep one paw moving in front of the other, muttering a cadence in a soft and listless voice.

"Whoa whoa, whoa whoa,
Whoa whoa, I gotta go,
Whoa whoa, whoa whoa,
Whoa whoa, I gotta go,
Momma, momma, can't you see,
What adventure's done to me?
Momma, momma, can't you see,
What adventure's done to me?

Of robes and furs, I had sixteen,
Now my cloak is grey and green,
Of robes and furs, I had sixteen,
Now my cloak is grey and green..."

Then, he stopped. Peering through the rain, he squinted as best he could - though his nose was more sensitive than most people's, his eyesight was a little less sensitive. Even so, through the driving rain, he could see the silhouette of the bridge and tower - and, far more importantly, the fire within.

Beginning the cadence once again, he began trudging toward the bridge. Perhaps tonight would not be so bad.

Spoiler: Actions

Show

Let's roll to see how successful Frederick is at not getting soaked to the bone.

Survival: (1d20+1)[14]
In the likely event that fails, Fortitude roll vs DC 16: (1d20+5)[8]

Frederick is now fatigued.

[Nefarion Xid]

Mysterious Woman

A section of the road washed away long ago in a storm like this one. A dark brown scar traces from a nearby hill, across the old road, and down to the deep riverbanks on your left. Normally the ten foot gap (three feet deep) wouldn't be an issue, but with this volume of rain, if you try to walk across the muddy ditch, there's a real chance you'll loose your boots or worse.

Before you can decide between making the leap or simply hiking up the hill a bit to go around, you notice an unevenness to the mud. Even obscured by an inch of running water, you make out what are clearly the boot prints of a dozen or so people trudging straight through. Mingled in with the boots are other prints as well. You needn't guess what manner of creature they belong to as your gaze follows their path to one of them. Half buried in the mud, an animated human skeleton grasps feebly at the wall of stone above him. Its fingers cannot find purchase and its mindless struggling only makes it sink deeper.

Man with the Curved Knife

Nearing the foot of the bridge, you come to a T in the road. Your approach was the one in line with the bridge, but a narrower road crosses here, running parallel to the river. You are briefly alarmed to find a torso crawling across your path. Thankfully, it's only a lone decrepit skeleton. Still alarming, but not a mortal threat to you. A baleful violet light resides in each eye socket, but it pays you no mind as it trudges forward, shuffling with a rusty longsword in one hand and making better use of the other to drag itself along the cobbles.

Everyone Else

You arrive at the summit of the bridge serendipitously at the same moment. Regardless of your initial disposition towards one another, there is a collective sigh of relief as you find that the old keep proclaims itself to be an inn. There is a slate sign with a painting of the bridge in profile and a not-to-scale bed and frothing glass tankard on top. Despite whatever colorful name the illiterate locals must have for the establishment, "Waystone" is clearly printed beneath in Cielish.

While there are no windows on the ground floor, there is a light coming from the green tinted second story windows. Wooden steps (clearly not part of the original structure) lead up to a narrow patio and the front door on the second story.

Spoiler: Jade & Mantas

Show

Despite the dull roar of the rain and wind, you hear men arguing up the stairs.

Spoiler: Jade, Mantas, Zab

Show

Describe yourselves as others might see you.

[Tychris1]

"Huh. Don' see that everyday." The woman remarked as she pulled on her clothes for protection against the elements. Squinting her eyes she rubbed the bottom of her chin in a brief epoch of manic contemplation between curiosity or caution.

She chose curiosity

Slowly lurching forward she attempted to stealthily and quietly approach the skeleton in an effort to see if it had anything of interest upon it.

Spoiler: Stealth

Show

(1d20+18)[35]

[Othniel]

Quickly dispatching the mobile skeletal remains with a glob of acid, the man with the curved dagger hesitated. He yearned to get out of the elements, and yet...curiousity held him in its grasp. He began to follow the narrower path. Just a short distance, he told himself.

[Lord Of Mantas]

Frederick

In the end, despite his best efforts at keeping his cloak closed, the wind and wet had pierced through, and he truly looked like a drowned rat. Although, given that he was a ratfolk, this wasn't exceptionally hard.

As he came upon the sign, however, his yellow eyes lit up with anticipation as, for once that day, luck seemed to be in their favor, the promise of a warm fire and possibly even hot food awaiting him. He turned to face the others who had chanced upon the sign at the same time as he, and knew that he must look a sight - a three and a half-foot tall humanoid rat, his grey-furred snout matted black by the pouring rain. He wore a grey-green camouflage-patterned cloak close, its hem well-worn from frequent use, and held it close in a battle against the elements. Beneath, in the dim light from the inn, one might have also spotted the telltale shine of studs in leather armor, and a well-made canvas backpack and ornately carved blue bow were slung over his back.

Frederick tried to let out some pleasantries, his teeth chattering as he spoke.

"P-p-pretty awful night out, isn't it? W-with a bit of luck it'll get better from hereon." He then perked a slight ear, turning back toward the inn. "Although I h-h-hope we don't end up walking into a bar b-brawl or something... a bit l-loud, coming from inside."

[Nefarion Xid]

Mysterious Woman

If it realizes you're there, the skeleton ignores your presence and continues feebly attempting to free itself from the mud and climb back onto the road. Ahead, some two hundred feet or so, you spy the light of a lantern.

[Tychris1]

Seeing the lantern rapidly approaching, the dame took out her rope, and quickly dropped it down onto the skeletons throat. Tugging on it she quickly attempted to pull the creature up to swap places with it.

[Othniel]

"Uh, hi," said a handsome half-elven man in his mid- to late-twenties. He appeared to be wearing a white shirt and a blue sleeveless coat. Both were somewhat bedraggled on account of the weather. With these went a matching sash, and slung over his shoulder a canvas bag and a beat up longsword. He carried a curved dagger all lit up in his hand - more of a torch than a weapon at the moment. "I ran into another one a bit back," he added, jerking his head back to indicate the way he'd come. "Yours, or...?"

[Tychris1]

"Hallo," A voice sounded directly behind the man "You're a looker aintchya?" The human woman before him was a shambles. Shoulder length ginger hair slick with rain frizzed out of control and covered her head. Her blue eyes were studious yet finnicky, black war makeup pooled beneath her eyes, and streaked down her cheek. Chainmail covered the bulk of her chest though her arms were left mostly exposed to the elements. Clenched tightly in her right hand was a stained length of hemp rope currently ensnared around an unfortunately animate cadaver and her left rested upon the brutal axe at her waist. A separate yet identical axe of equally heavy design rested on the opposite side of her hip, slung alongside an unused lantern, and a strung longbow resting on her back completed the ensemble.

"Naw. Just found it. You going thattaway?" The voice continued to echo around the man's shoulders and behind his ears as she slowly loped forward with her skeleton in tow.

[Othniel]

The man ignored the direction of the voice as he kept his eyes on the strange woman and her...pet? "Sorry, I'm taken," he replied with a slight twitch of a smile. "Followed the path the bony fellow crawled up to see if anyone needed help, but I've no mind to stay out in this lovely weather any more than I have to, so I'll be heading back the way I came. Think I saw a building on the bridge a ways back. If you'll keep your graveyard reject away from my ankles we could make our way there."

[Tychris1]

"Pshaw, Frank won't hurt nobody." The woman proceeded to drag the skeleton behind her and stepped alongside the man. Closing her eyes she flashed him a smile and gestured to the tower in the distance. "Wonder'n what these fellas were s'posed to do but s'not like it matters much now I reckon."

She extended a calloused ashen hand. "Call me Agatha."

[Othniel]

"You can call me Ard," the man responded, shaking Agatha's hand. "Though you might want to ditch Frank before meeting other folks. Someone (or Frank himself) is liable to get hurt."

[zabbarot]

Sir Bunivere

Spoiler: image

Show

Bunivere waited until the door was opened and slipped inside with a nod to acknowledge the opener. Sitting up on his haunches, he set down his things, slid his overcoat off, threw it over one arm, and shook some of the water out of his fur. He ran his paws over each ear individually to brush more water off then gathered his things, most notably an adamantine glaive sized just for him and engraved end to end in images of rabbits in gardens. He stood a bit over a foot tall on his haunches, just over a foot and a half with his ears included.

"That storm really came out of nowhere, didn't it? I cannot wait to put my feet up by the fire. How about you two chaps? You from around here?" The small black rabbit smiled up at them. "Where are my manners?! I'm Sir Bunivere of Whitby Burrows."

[Jade_Tarem]

"Well hello to you all again. I guess we didn't get a good chance to exchange pleasantries outside. I'm Tombossa, no last name." He didn't remain bedraggled for long. With a flashy snap of his fingers designed to hide his other hand running through the spell's somatic component behind his back, he lit up a cantrip and began drying himself with it, bottom to top. As he did so, it revealed showy clothes better suited to a courtesan than an adventurer. It was all loose and flowing, in eye-catching shades of crimson, white, black and gold. Decorative bracelets of ebony with golden filigree adorned his arms, his bandanna sported charms - jeweled ones, not the magical kind - and an octahedral ruby in adamantine faceting hung suspended from a stout black cord at his neck, glowing with some lurid internal light.

His clothing, though, wasn't quite as striking as the rest of him. Tanned skin that did nothing to betray either its supernatural toughness or the hardships of the road was framed by his more otherworldly features - a shock of white hair, eyes with vaguely catlike pupils, fangs that flashed when he grinned, and most tellingly, an incredible seven foot long feline tail, graduating from white fur at the base through orange, red, and black nearer the tip, gave away the otherworldly influences on his origin.

Once it was all dry, he wrapped his tail around his waist like a belt and gave a little bow, more showboat than courtesy. "Delighted to meet you. I'm here to help." With his spell still running, he began drying his companions.

[Nefarion Xid]

There was a long cloakroom at the front of the establishment. It had likely served as a guardroom and armory in the days of the Old Empire. The current owner had painted the formerly bare, white-washed kilnstone walls a more inviting hunter green. The room was lit by a sconce at the near and far end; a brass rod tipped with a thumb-sized piece of quartz cast brilliant white light. There were hooks for hats and cloaks driven into the interior wall. The murder holes on the exterior wall had long ago been filled in with plaster. Through an open archway at the far end of the room, there was more light, the voices from before, and the smell of food cooking.

There was no rug on the floor, but instead a clever bit of sigil work. Anyone who passed into the room (and over the "trap") was greeted with a pleasant gust of warm air and a magical hum as their clothes were cleaned and dried just before Tombossa could tend to his fellow travelers.

The snap of broken glass and a man's cry cut off any remarks about the cozy inn's magical amenities.

"Bloody saints!" one man exclaimed in a panicked voice. "Put the sword away, Brand. You're not gonna kill us over taxes. We're just doin' our job!"

"I might! I bloody well might! If I toss you two into the river, no one'll find your rotten corpses until you wash up in Ryefeld! An' no one will weep for you 'cept your whore cousin goin' 'ungry with 'er two best customers gone."

Crowding your way into the main room, you see two men in mail with tabbards. They have matching dark grey cloaks and both carry swords on their hips -- neither drawn. One of the two is sprawled on the floor with a broken nose and multiple cuts on his face. He twitches, alive, but completely stunned. The other holds up his hands, desperately attempting to placate another fellow. The third man wears the practical clothing of an innkeeper with an apron. He looks to be in his early forties, with a mane of loose, greying blond hair. He's terribly scarred on his right side and wears an eyepatch. He holds a black adamantine bastard sword effortlessly in one hand, pointed towards the armored man's chest. Despite knowing nothing of this innkeeper, you are absolutely sure he could shove the sword through mail and man both and only the hilt would stop him.

Spoiler: Frederick

Show

The two armored younger men wear the colors of Duke Veregast -- a chevron argent on a sable field. You know the duke to be a bachelor in his early thirties. Like his father before him, he refuses to take sides in anyone's claim for the kingdom. You have heard rumors that his coffers are empty, but there is no clear answer for the cause.

Ard & Agatha

You two draw nearer to the inn. Two figures meet outside, then ascend the stairs together. They either didn't notice you, or more likely, they are just eager to get in out of the rain.

Spoiler: Ard

Show

You hear the dim sound of glass breaking.

[Othniel]

Ard

"Sounds like some folks are having fun," Ard suggested. He then nodded to the half-skeleton. "You gonna bring Frank inside, or tie him up out here?" Without waiting for an answer, the half-elf man started for the stairs.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Ard will enter unless stopped by Agatha or something else.

[Lord Of Mantas]

Frederick

"A p-pleasure, Sir Bunivere," replied Frederick as the merry trio entered into the cloakroom. Under normal circumstances, he might have let out a bit of snark at his companion's on-the-nose appellation, but he was far too cold to do much more than exchange the usual pleasantries. Reaching up with his hand, he was almost about to begin drying himself off when the newly-named Tombossa beat him to it. Luxuriating in the sensation of being dry, Frederick nodded gratefully - he was still fatigued, but it was an improvement.

"And to you as well, Tombossa."

Then the argument and yelling stated up again, and Frederick rushed forward with Bunivere and Tombossa. Taking in the scene, he hissed out of the corner of his mouth to his companions as his right hand crawled up towards his bow.

"Duke Veregast's men. A neutral faction. Rumor's been going around his treasury's a bit on the light side. I don't suppose either of you've got experience talking people down, have you?"

[Nefarion Xid]

Seeing he had customers, the one called Brand seemed to reevaluate his stance on manslaughter and lowered his sword. "Get out of my inn and take your git cousin-brother with you."

The duke's man hesitated, waiting until Brand took a few steps back before stooping to catch his friend by the shoulders and drag him towards the safety of the cloakroom. He glanced your way and managed an awkward, "ah, cheers," by way of a greeting.

"Don't suppose one of you folk's a cleric?" His eyes searched you over for a holy symbol.

Spoiler: Sir Bunivere

Show

You know the man is at 0 HP. He will regain consciousness on his own, but will probably need several days to heal naturally. He'll have several nasty scars if he doesn't get magical healing.

[Lord Of Mantas]

Frederick

Frederick shook his head regretfully.

"My apologies. My powers are of a more arcane bent."

[Tychris1]

”Ya, ah figure he ain’t gonna pay his own drinks or keep his liquor down either.” She quickly looked around the outskirts of the tavern for a place to stow her unwiling companion (or atleast the undead one) and then rushed to follow after Ard. She gracefully slid her arm alongside Ard’s side and locked arms with him at the elbow to merrily proceed into the tavern.

“So’s it pretty nice? Y’know. Bein’ married and all,” She casually conversed, brushing through her hair with long pointed fingers “I can’t right imagine it’s so if you’re here instead of with your girl... guy?” She squinted her eyes briefly in an effort to utilize her gaydar.

“Not judgin’ y’know. My barn door has a loose hinge.”

[Othniel]

Ard

The man barked a quick laugh in reply. "My wife is...visiting family at the moment," Ard answered after a brief hesitation. There was a brief gleam of amusement in his eye, or perhaps it was merely a reflection from his light spell. "It was sort of an arranged marriage, but you might say our hearts are growing toward each other. I certainly have no regrets, and the honeymoon was out of this world."

[Jade_Tarem]

Tombossa

"No worries, my good sir! I'm no holy man either," In fact, holy men tended to attack Tombossa on sight, but he didn't mention that, "but there's more than one way to mend a body. Now, this spell has a curious side effect, and he may be irritable, grumpy, and/or unspeakably evil for a minute or two after the casting, but it will pass quickly." With that, and without waiting for an objection, Tombossa twisted his hand into a series of intricate arcane gestures and said something in the ancient language of his ancestors. He needed no special components for most spells, which was good, because the church frowned on purchases of devil blood. With one hand behind his back and a good-natured smirk, he added an unnecessary flourish at the end, and a moment later the man's injuries began to mend themselves before everyone's eyes, nose popping back into place and cuts sealing.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Casting Infernal Healing

[zabbarot]

Sir Bunivere's ears perked up a bit as Tombossa listed the 'side effects' of his spell, and his nose twitched at the casting. He could almost smell evil in the magic. "Oy! What was that?" His rabbit brow furrowed, hardly an intimidating gesture but he did his best. "I'll drop it because you're helping that fellow, but that hardly seems proper good healing..." He made a mental note to keep a close eye on Tombossa. So far he had seemed friendly, but you couldn't be too careful. Bunivere hopped over to the inkeep and climbed into a chair to get a better look at him.

"You, Innkeep, why are you fighting with tax collectors?"

[Nefarion Xid]

Revived by the sorcerer's touch, the man's bloodshot eyes snapped open. He would have scrambled to his feet and attempted to make good on his muttered threat to 'run the manky bastard through' if not for his friend holding him down with a knee on his chest. As his wounds knit closed, a green sliver of glass squirted from his skull and jingled to the floor.

The first guardsman seemed alarmed by the effects of the spell, but still thanked Tombossa profusely for the aid as he dragged his friend through the cloakroom. Brand the innkeeper snarled until he heard the sound of the front door.

"I don't live on the duke's land," Brand said, assessing the group of misfits. His accent turned less folksy when he wasn't angry enough to turn a man's chest into a scabbard. "Just because the townsfolk on the south side of the river swore their fealty doesn't mean he owns the bloody bridge. Ah've... I've lived here four years and no one's ever demanded coin from me 'cept a trio o' bandits. They went in the river."

Brand swung his sword to indicate the rusted mail shirts that had been nailed to one wall. There were three of them, and each had a clean split in the rings -- a killing blow from an adamantine weapon. Beneath the display was a board with carefully painted red lettering that read, "SALE: ALL BANDITS 1/2 OFF".

Ard & Agatha

A pair of men in cloaks and armor emerge from the inn. One leans heavily on the other's shoulder. They ignore you and hurry across the bridge going north, the direction opposite of your approach.