Free Ferelden (BoL Hack) - Game Thread

[Tibbius]

You stand on the cobblestones at the lakefront wharf in Lothering, the evening twilight glowing red and gold through misting rain. A chilly breeze ripples your clothing and hair. The air smells like fish and smoke.

You are waiting for a boat to take you downriver from the Lesser Lake toward Denerim. About two thirds of the way down the river there is an ancient bridge with a disused road that leads south into the Brecilian Forest. That is the road that Abe says you will follow to the ruined Warden fortress, where he seeks something undisclosed but related to his studies.

First, though, you must board the boat. It is half a day late coming from the west. The wind has been in the east all day, maybe that's why it's late. You will be traveling downriver in the dark if the captain is willing to sail at all.

There are several small groups of other people waiting for the boat. To the left are a pair of Orlesian nobles, finely dressed, dark hair braided long down their backs, unarmored, wearing rapiers. To the right are a Fereldan Circle Mage wearing the robes of her order, flanked by two Chantry templars. Right next to you is a dwarven merchant accompanied by a human servant carrying a heavy box.

No-one is saying anything much to each other. Just quiet small talking within their groups.

"The boat!" one of the Orlesians - the tall one - exclaims in a bored tone. Orlesians have mastered the art of ennui. Yet somehow they rule. Indeed, the sail of a boat is visible silhouetted in the twilight, approaching the wharf from about a half mile away.

In a few minutes the boat has tacked to wharfside and one of the hands has jumped ashore with a line, which she makes fast to a bollard. Other hands put out a plank for offloading passengers, and about a half dozen disembark and hurry toward the town.

The hands begin to lower and stow the sail, which has been flapping loose in the breeze. A grizzle-faced dwarf steps to the top of the plank and flaps his hands as if shooing away the prospective passengers: "We're docking for the night. Leaving first light. Be back on time. Or wait for next boat."

You find yourselves stranded for the night in Lothering. You know of several inns that offer rooms for various rates. The cheaper ones generally would be more accepting of your types - an apparently dissolute noble, and a retinue of three rough looking servants, two of them with pointy ears. What sort of place would you like to stay?

Rules: BOL Hack

Setting: Ferelden

Characters:

Spoiler: James Arclight - MinotaurWarblad

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Level 1 Elf
Max HP 11
Str 2, Agi 4, Mind 0, App -1
Initiative -1, Melee 2, Ranged 3, Armor class 19
Alchemist 1, Artificer 1, Merchant 1, Soldier 2
Chain shirt and leather greaves, Dagger x3, Dart x5, Cudgel, Handaxe x2, Runic longbow, Shield, Shortsword, Sling
Arcane power 5, Hero points 3
Tools of the trade (Artificer), Trademark weapon (Runic longbow)
Can't lie, Taciturn

Spoiler: Jacques "Ombre" Fantome - whiteflash

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Level 1 "Hero" (Rogue Orlesian Bard)

11 hp
12+2 AC
Initiative 0
Melee 1
Ranged 1+3

Strength 0
Agility 2
Mind 0
Appeal 3

Minstrel 1
Tempter 2
Dancer 1
Thief 1

Attractive
Sneaky

Hunted

No armor
2 daggers, 5 darts

Two outfits: a brightly colored minstrel outfit and a dark blue (almost black) outfit with a mask
Lutey the Lutetastical Lute
A wide brimmed hat
Assorted silver and copper coins (mostly copper)

Spoiler: Fela - (lost in travel)

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Level 1 Hero (City Elf)

Hit Points: 10
Hero Points: 5
Str 0; Agi 2; Mind 0; App 2

Init 1(1); Melee 0(0); Ranged 3(1); AC 14(2)
Slave 1; Thief 2; Assasin 1

Keen Hearing

Dagger (D6, Light)
Throwing Darts (6)
Lockpicks, Cloak, poisons?.

Fela was born into servitude, working in a human nobles house as soon as she could walk and talk. Slavery in all but name. She learned to watch, wait and listen and eventually found a way to slip away with a enough coins to make a start and not provoke too much commotion. She lived on the streets a bit before deciding that revenge was a better course than survival. Learning how to poison, kill and incapacitate.

Fela survives by being unnoticed, she dresses like any other elf in the city and carries only light, hideable equipment. When she needs more physical stealth she has a dark cloak she can wear to blend into the night.

Spoiler: Abe Sandous - MrStereo1

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6 hp
2 Hero Points
15 Arcane Power
AC 9 (-1+0)
Initiative 3 (3+0)
Melee -2 (-1-1)
Ranged 2 (-1+3)

Strength -1
Agility -1
Mind 4
Appeal 3

Noble 2
Scholar 2
Alchemist 1
Artificer 2

Great Wealth
Learned

City Dweller
Non-Combatant

No armor
Crossbow (or Staff)

An old Noble's outfit kept in pristine condition
A traveling outfit
Alchemists kit
Artificers tools
A bag full of interesting books
A doctors bag
Assorted gold, silver, and copper coins (few gold)

Abe Sandous was born to the noble Sandous family. His family, having realized he was magical from a young age, secretly had him trained by apostates in the ways of magic, so he need not bear the captivity of the circle. His training began with the academic, then moved on to the practices of alchemy and artifice. Abe, growing bored of his life at home, convinced his family to let him see the world for himself. Soon, Abe fell in with what most would consider the "wrong crowed," but he considered an interesting diversion from his noble life.

World Map: Here

Spoiler: Warden Fortress Map

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http://www.giantitp.com/forums/shows...php?p=24249364

[ACExtravaganza]

Abe would like to see where the circle mage is staying, then not stay there. Other than that, he would probably prefer some nice accommodations, but expects to be staying in one of the cheap rooms.

[whiteflash]

The "noble and three servants" story might be a good thing to play up, and anyway there's strength in numbers. So Jacques follows Abe. He'd prefer his own room, right next to Abe's. If that's not possible he'd ask if he could share Abe's room.

[Tibbius]

You wind up eating dinner and renting two rooms at the Silver Oar, which is a compromise sort of establishment that is just high enough class to accept the idea of a noble with elves as servants, without being so high class as to exclude said noble on the basis of his servants being elves. Abe's purse is one gold coin lighter.

After eating an unimpressive dinner, do you retire immediately to your adjacent rooms on the upper floor? Or do you stay to carouse for a while in the common room on the lower floor, where a fire under the central chimney keeps out the chill that would seep in from the dark drizzling night?

[ACExtravaganza]

Abe definitely carouses. What's the point of seeing the world if you're not going to experience it!

[whiteflash]

Is there anyone singing?

If not, I head over to the proprietor and ask if he or she would object if I started.

If there is a singer, and they're doing a good job, I sit and watch politely.

[Tibbius]

A few people - crafters out for a "fancy" evening - are trying to get going with country drinking songs and chants that involve downing gulps of ale or wine. No other professional minstrel is present, so the stool by the central hearth is open to Jacques if he wants it.

Proper carousing requires the purchase of a round for the house, and Abe finds he has funds enough to do so - another gold coin, and a silver one, gone. He makes a score or more new temporary friends who all drink to his health and happiness. Most of them are respectable folk just letting their hair down after a solid day's work. One - a blonde slender Orlesian woman, accompanied by a heavy set bearded Fereldan man and an equally thick Fereldan woman - looks like an upper cruster trying to experience the "lower" class with bodyguards to keep the dirt off. She is eyeing Abe and Jacques with interest, her gaze passing blankly over the elves. It is a bland look that James and Fela both have seen at times throughout their lives - "you are furniture," her eyes say, "sometimes useful tools." She seems completely unfazed by James' clattering array of weaponry, much of which he has stacked on the floor beside his bench.

[DominoMasque]

Fela stays to side of Abe, adopting a look of being ready to listen to any requests he may make, while not actually paying attention to what he's doing. too attentive and someone might pay attention.
Meanwhile her ears try to tune into the hum of the bar, listening for anything interesting.

[whiteflash]

I pull out my lute and head to the stool.

Do I have to get everyone's attention, or is that enough?

[MinotaurWarblad]

James watches his party from the comfort of a seat, playing with a dagger (in its sheath) by balancing it on his foot.
When he gets bored, he’ll go to the room and make sure his belongings are clean and properly fitted. Though, if our minstrel is a good one, it may take some time for him to get bored; even so, he wants to be relatively well-rested in the morning.

[Tibbius]

The seat by the hearth is special in every tavern and inn, and everyone knows that one who sits there claims the prerogatives of a bard. As soon as Jacques settles in with his lute, the serving wench brings him a cup of wine. The room falls quiet as he tunes.

Spoiler

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Roll 20 + Appeal + Minstrel career. TN 5 to avoid disgrace, 10 to please, 15 to awe. These folk aren't connoisseurs.

Fela discerns the usual conversations and concerns of human crafters - how the insurgency is levying "taxes" on raw materials being shipped on the roads, how the Orlesians also are levying taxes on finished goods to fund their patrols of the roads, how the boatmasters are raising their shipping fees to match the increased cost of road travel, how Amworth Taylor caught John Fine cheating on his wife with Frid Tanner in the Blue House at the edge of town - but John's wife doesn't know because he's paying Amworth off -, what does that point ears think he is with all those weapons, someone ought to take those away, yeah who's the fool who'll try it, he looks the hardened mercenary or just as like a bandit, wonder whose side he's on, probably the insurgents, no chance the Orlies would have an elf, at least they've got that right, too bad they're such arrogant pricks otherwise, glad to see the back of em someday, Edward watch your mouth you never know, you see her in the corner, she's might be a spy, nah I bet she's only lookin for a rough good time ... How'd you fancy that little elf girl next the thug? Good for a tumble maybe ...

[DominoMasque]

Fela filters out most of the noise, it's mildly interesting that rebellion was talked about so openly but she already knew things were bad. She'd be quite happy to let the humans kill each other off, but her own folk would get trampled too.

Her ear twitched as she realised she'd drawn a little attention, she was no longer the defenseless girl she was, but better to gently dissuade than cause a scene if they tried anything. She'd have to see if she could split a room with James, she wouldn't call him gentlemanly - but then she didn't have the best of experiences with most gentlemen.

[Tibbius]

Jacques has been here before - not this particular tavern, but this kind of room, a little smoky, flickering light, the smells of wine and ale and moderately spiced lamb stew, the expectant silence of the audience. He does not disappoint. Out of consideration for the venue, he plays an old Fereldan folk song that he learned from a wandring minstrel in a small tavern on the shore of Lake Celestine. Then he shifts to works more familiar to him - a romantic Orlesian ballad, then a portion of the Chant of Light, then back to another Fereldan song, this one a comic story about a rare glass mug for ale. He finishes the set with a Fereldan folk dance, one of those ones where he calls the steps. The company stomp around the room and demand encores of the dance, so he tries the only other one he knows. His fingers fumble on the strings a bit - it's been a long time since he played it - but by this point the audience don't really care, they're thrilled with his performance and in a forgiving mood.

Later, after more wine and ale, you retire - leaving instructions with the landlord to wake them well before dawn.

* * *

The morning comes very early for folk who have been reveling, but somehow you all struggle awake and grab your gear before heading down to the wharf. There you sleepily board the boat, passing coins to the gruff dwarf captain. He doesn't thank you, just points to where you should put your stuff. One of the hands assists in stowing your bundles of gear under a low deckhouse built around the base of the mast. The other hands are unfurling and raising the sail as the rest of the passengers board. Someone casts off and the boat lurches away from the wharf, downriver on a westerly wind.

The boat is about forty feet long, flat decked and shallow-drafted with houses amidships and forward that give access through the deck down into dry areas where you and your gear can get out of the rain and the wind.

It's raining again, fitfully, with puffs and gusts of wind making the sail flap. The sky is grey and the sun shows as a patch of painfully bright grey in the clouds. The grass along the banks of the wide river is brilliant green, and the occasional stands of trees are a darker but still beautiful green. Deer graze in the meadows and marshes at the river-edge.

Toward mid-day you're eating your cold provisions and drinking from your ale flasks when the dwarf, who has been manning the tiller, passes his station to one of the hands and comes forward. He urinates downwind from the prow of the boat, coughs, hoists trousers, and turns back to you as he fastens his rope belt. "Where you getting off?" he asks.

Abe explains about the ancient bridge. The dwarf scratches his beard. "Heard of that. Past South Reach," he replies. "I only go to Market Square. You'll need another boat from there toward Denerim."

Spoiler: here's a map

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https://66.media.tumblr.com/ab001547b3a981395665bdf8cfb17584/tumblr_oadn0vMIv91ugge5xo1_1280.jpg

* * *

At evening the dwarf has the sail lowered and furled, guides the boat toward shore on the south side of the river, tosses an anchor off the bow, and lets the current swing the boat around to stand downriver from the anchor. He looks a little anxious and talks quietly to his crew.

Spoiler: make rolls

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d20 + Mind + any reasonable career that would include noticing things at a distance; TN 12

[Tibbius]

Abe notices it first, the thick plume of smoke puffing upward and eastward, faintly visible through the intensifying drizzle. It comes from the ruins of a ringfort and a village, about three quarters of a mile distant up a hillside north of the river, on the far side of the Imperial Highway that tracks the edge of the marshes.

In the twilight, clumps of people can be seen as shadowy figures - some on horseback, more afoot. They are moving from the smoldering ruins toward the highway.

[ACExtravaganza]

Abe calls his party members over, and in a hushed tone gesturing to the shadowy figures moving toward the highway, They seem to be comming from that smoke cloud in the direction of some ruins. What do you make of it? Nothing good, I wager, but this isn't exactly my area of expertise...

[whiteflash]

Jacques eyes the riders nervously.

"This isn't exactly what I did, either. I was more into urban skulduggery. But I think I agree with your instincts. I vote we try to find someplace to hide until they're gone, in case they come this way."

[DominoMasque]

"Wait until they've gone, pick through what they've left? Maybe there will be someone who can tell us what it was about... or maybe they'll miss something valuable.". Fela's voice is distant, she doesn't pretend she's okay with this. But neither does she want to get involved with someone else's problems blindly.

[whiteflash]

Jacques nods approvingly at Fela's caution.

[MinotaurWarblad]

"I'd like to avoid confrontation in this circumstance. The ship won't likely wait up for us, but I can't help but feel that we should investigate. There could be children that need medical attention."

[Tibbius]

By this point, everyone aboard has come to the starboard side to look at what's going on across the river. The two Orlesians stand with their arms crossed, apart from everyone else. The dwarf merchant and his servant are talking in low voices. The Circle Mage is arguing with the templars. They want to be put ashore; she wants to continue their mission down the river without interruption. The dwarf who captains the boat raises his voice: "Won't wait for anyone who goes across. Can send you in the small boat to the marsh. You wade from there with all your gear. Boat won't stay for you."

[ACExtravaganza]

If the boat won't wait for us, we should probably just stay here. Besides, look at the company we would keep were we to venture forth.

[Tibbius]

The templars win the argument with their mage. She grumpily stamps over to sit down on the roof of the mid-deck house, leaning back against the mast.

Some of the hands get a charcoal cook fire going in a wide, deep, long-legged metal pot with a grate set over it. They pull a sack of potatoes up from the foredeck hold and put on one for everyone. A few others start fishing over the side. Apparently it will be grilled fish and potatoes for dinner.

When the food is ready, the sun has fully set and the moon illuminates the clouds but nothing below them. The stars are hidden. In the full darkness James's trained ears catch hold of a muted thumping and splashing from somewhere along the other side of the river. At first it sounds like the noise is approaching, then like it veers off upriver. Fela and Jacques also make out the noise in the background of the conversation around the deck. There are half a dozen hands on the boat, plus the passengers, and everyone has an opinion about what was seen at sunset.

"Rebels being extirpated," says the heftier Orlesian noble. His face is unreadable in the steady but shadowy red glow from the charcoal. He pats the hilt of his rapier. "Well done I say."

The dwarf merchant shrugs in the darkness. "Off to the Imperium for them, I expect," he says coldly. "Isn't that how Meghren funds his festivals?"

The hefty Orlesian turns to face the dwarf. "Careful, short one," he says. "That sort of talk can lead to trouble. Even for one of your ... stature."

At least the rain has stopped. It's a cool night but the clouds keep it warmer than it might otherwise be, this early in spring.

[whiteflash]

Jacques raises an eyebrow at the Orlesian noble's direct threat. No class. Didn't his parents teach him subtlety?

[DominoMasque]

Fela tenses at the Orlesian and Dwarf's exchange. She'd rather not get involved in a fight, but she'd sleep sounder without the Orlesian on the boat.

[Tibbius]

The shorter Orlesian laughs at his compatriot's short joke. His laugh is charming, almost childlike. The dwarfen captain is not amused. "No more threats or jokes," he says firmly. "We will put the templars and the mage ashore in the morning." ... With a whispering slither of silk tunic and a rasp of steel, the hefty Orlesian half draws his rapier. "I'll jest as I wish," he replies. "Mind yourself." ... The Circle Mage stands between the two. "I'll have the peace," she shouts. "You," she says to the templars, "are needed more aboard this boat to keep order than you are needed ashore to chase after whoknowswhat." ... The hefty Orlesian fully draws his sword and levels it at the mage. The templars spring forward. The shorter Orlesian comes to his feet. The dwarf captain shouts: "Hold!" But no one is listening.

[MinotaurWarblad]

James gives off his best sergeant's whistle, a blisteringly shrill note that makes the ears buzz for a second afterwards.
If that doesn't get their attention, nothing will.
"Do you really need ME, an armed elf, to tell you how to act civilized? Stop being childish and let's all forget this nonsense ever happened!"
His tone is like his father's stern tone, back when he first learned how to fire a bow. He remembers the cynical words telling him that he was so much better at the sword than the bow that he may as well run down a wolf instead of shoot it.
Of course, he proved the old bastard wrong, but not without a lot of practice. He flexes his knuckles subconsciously, reflecting on the callouses he earned with years of work.

[DominoMasque]

Fela backs away, looking like she wants no part of it, while trying to position herself behind the Orlesians.

[Tibbius]

Both the Orlesians pivot toward James. "You dog-eared scum!" snarls the shorter one. "I'll shut your mouth." His rapier makes the sound of steel on steel as it comes from the scabbard. He takes a step across the deck toward James, around his compatriot, and another step, the rapier leveled toward the elf's throat.

The heftier Orlesian acts more swiftly. He swings a backhand toward James' face. Melee - (d20+4)[12] v. AC 18. dmg - (d4+2)[6]. James has the options to duck or to take the blow.

The Circle Mage begins to speak. Spell - (d20+3)[19] v. TN 12. Weird grey-blue light springs from her hands to twist like ropes around the Orlesians' arms and legs, constricting them. They struggle pointlessly as the ropelights drag them down and pin them to the deck.

[MinotaurWarblad]

James ducks and recoils from the magic, unsure of its exact effects. As he backs away, he motions with his hands to show as much innocence as possible while maneuvering to stay out of reach of the rapier.

[Tibbius]

The burgeoning combat comes to a halt. The Circle Mage sags sideways against the nearer templar - Abe recognizes that she channeled a lot of Fade into that ropy spell. The templar supports her with his arm around her. The other templar steps forward on the boat and nudges the hefty Orlesian with his foot.

"Elf," says the templar turning his head toward Fela, "take the rapiers. No telling how long Cynara's spell will last."

"I stow rapiers," says the dwarf captain. "Return at destination."

The hefty Orlesian says nothing. The smaller one curses the templars and their bottomizing Knight Commander. The same templar who nudged the hefty one turns, takes a step, and puts his boot into the small Orlesian's groin.

"Well," says the dwarf merchant, who has seated himself atop the deckhouse, "that's a pleasant entertainment, huh? Now who will keep an eye on these two fine miscreants?"

"My spell will last til sunrise," says Cynara the Circle Mage confidently. She pushes off the templar to stand with her feet firmly planted. Faint wisps of bluish light trail upward from her hands and glow from her eyes in the red-lit shadows.

"Even so," replies the merchant, "I'd be happier were they watched. Stanley," he calls to his servant, who is in a huddle with the captain's crew back aft, "keep an eye on the two sers til you're sleepy, then wake someone up." Turning to the captain of the boat, the merchant asks, "have you hammocks or pallets, ser?"