The Shield of the North [IC]

[TriciaOso]

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in

OOC

Wintertide morning. The sun rises over Coldwater, The Shield of the North, and finds a city already hard at work. It's the shortest day of the year, and much to be done; no good waiting for the sun. In the temples to the Sun King the prayers go up for a good Wintertide, but in the temples of the Maiden the priests know the best thing for a good Wintertide is a sharp sword and a strong bell, and they do not turn from their work.

(Coldwater is a cold city, a tall city of stone, buildings close-set like fine strong teeth. But there are plaza and courtyards throughout the city, spaced and placed carefully according to arcane logic, and in those plazas are the Iron Carillions, the arrays of bells which will ring out through the longest night, binding and commanding and rebuking the dead. The maintenance of the carillions is always of high importance, cracked bells replaced, clappers inspected, yokes repaired. But this is the last chance to make certain. Dead certain.)

(The sharpening of swords needs no explanation. The Temples of the Maiden are armories, today.)

The gates of the city are busy, as peasants and travellers stream in to seek shelter for the night. Precious little shelter there is to find; wiser folks made their way here days ago, and the inns and spare rooms and stables are crammed to the rafters. Gate guards must turn away horses, sheep, cattle; it's too late, and space is too precious. Only human lives can still claim sanctuary on the last day of the year. (And halfling, dwarf, elf and goliath; all the speaking races of Daesic are welcome.)

(Across Solus, most communities mark the new year by the wedding of the May Queen, three months hence. But here in Coldwater there's only one day out of the long year that counts; the start and end of all hopes.)

And the walls are busy. High walls, mortared with the ashes of the consecrated dead; manned by soldiers of the city, solemn and watchful, and by the Wintertide Militia, nervous and pale. Not every able-bodied citizen picks up arms on the Day of the Dead; service is voluntary, and it is in fact forbidden to desert a family that requires your support. But most of them are here, if they are still old enough or young enough, strong enough, wise enough to hold a pike or lock shields with their neighbors.

Among them also are travellers; those caught here who see the sense, or pilgrims on the Maiden's Road from Domari to Coldwater who came here for this, to pay their penance for every night the Maiden passed them by.

(Every one of us must dance with the Maiden, sooner or later, and a beautiful dance it will be. But pray your name is not on her dance card tonight. Pray, and sharpen your sword.)

Most of the militia are untrained; wise enough to hold a pike or lock shields with their neighbor, but not much else. If you're better than that, stronger than that, and you happen to be in the city tonight, you may have been called upon to come to the keep.

---

The Keep of the Ci Gît family is different from other keeps, in that it faces the water and the north, the direction of greatest danger. The Dukes of Coldwater came from the north, from over the water, and they know what evil they left behind there. They know it will come after, on this longest night, and they know their place is here, between their people and their loathsome cousins over the water. Here, speaking to a small knot of clerics, is Mason Ci Gît, a son of the Duke. Here is the Duke's daughter, the Dauphin, the heir of the city, Domane Ci Gît, speaking confidentially to the strongest citizens, travelers and adventurers.

And over here is a cluster of first-level heroes; strong enough to be plucked from the rank-and-file of the militia, not yet strong enough to be that important. Nobody is talking to them yet, and they are all talking to each other. As the sun falls over the courtyard -- last sun of the old year, last sun some of you will ever see -- what are you doing?

[J-H]

Aupti Human Arctic Druid AC: 13 HP: 10/10 PPer: 15 PInv: 10 PIst: 13 Conditions: -- Concentrating: --

Aupti looks around, his jaw slightly slack. This keep is the tallest building he's ever seen, and the sturdiest. The rocks themselves nearly shout resolve and determination. He's been in the city three days now. The courtyard actually seems relatively quiet, but still loud with voices and manners and stations in high society. He's still getting used to all the new sounds and smells, and feels very out of place.
At least, he thinks, he knows how to bow, how to greet superiors politely, and how to eat a meal presented with more than one fork or spoon. He understands the basic rules.
(at least, he thinks so)

He waits patiently, without movement except for that of his neck and eyes. One does not find food by rushing or becoming jittery when waiting for an animal to come close enough.

[Breitheamh]

Shad Human Grappler Fighter AC: 16 HP: 13/13 PPer: 12 PInv: 9 PIst: 12 Conditions: -- Concentrating: --

Shad ground her teeth in frustration, shivering occasionally in the cold...and the quiet fear sitting uncomfortably in her stomach. Gods but it was cold here, and despite the throng of the citizenry and refugees, somehow desolate, and yet...

alive?

It felt strange to think of the disciplined focus of these peasant folk in their quiet dread and anticipation of the violence to come as a type of life. But somehow it felt more real than any dignified and cultured festivities that Croplan's high society could offer. This heavy sense of responsibility was somehow palpable in the frozen early morning air, permeating the ground itself, soaked in like the blood of the wardens who had long defended this proud city from the darkness.

So what the **** was she doing here? She didn't care about Coldwater, or defending the world from evil. She'd been shoved into the militia volunteering line by her parents' hamfisted thugs, made a comment on their parentage and how much she didn't want to be here, some ******* called her a coward (an ******* who, she noted smugly, still sported a black eye and a finger splint for his troubles as he stood waiting for his orders), and then some gorgeous elf lady assigned her for service in one of her squads. Damn her slow wit and the curve of that tight jawline...those deep, serious eyes, like pools of midnight...

Shad reddened and gritted her teeth as she forced herself to stop staring at Beatrice, the captain of her little unit. She just needed to focus up, survive the night, and find a way to get back home to Jenny...somehow...how, exactly? No money, no influence, no family, and gods, poor Jenny, didn't even know Shad's real name, has no idea what kind of danger she could still be in...

Gods this was all so ****ed!

****! Was someone just saying something I was supposed to hear?? ****!

[zylodrizzt]

Hasgraek has been in the area for a little less then a year. He's been coming and going almost freely trying not to draw too much attention to himself for if these people were anything like his former clan he'd be in some serious trouble. He enters through the second story and descends some stairs. This dwarf could very well be mistaken for a deep dwarf of the underdark. Hasgraek is nervous at the moment since this is the longest He's been in town. There's a few notable people he can recall some interaction with such as a woman he'd grappled with in an arena or the druid that he'd stolen some food from and a boy or perhaps a man that tried to greet him in a bar... what was that bar called? He hopes that if he performs well here he might be accepted and it would be his first step to righting what he's done while appeasing his savior the maiden of the long dark.

He looks around and he can't help but think that time could better be spent elsewhere.

[TriciaOso]

The group captains begin to emerge from the keep and pull off small units of the larger group, no more than three to five people at a time. Among them you can see an orc cleric in a piece of arcano-tech, a flying wheelchair; a blond paladin wearing a sash of pilgrimage; and your own captain, a lean and pale shadar-kai woman with a scar on the left side of her face


Beatrice Prochaine waves the four of you into a huddle. 'Lean and pale' are the words of someone who is drawn to that sort of thing; a less generous narrator might call her cadaverous. The Prochaines, cousins of the Dukes, are uniformly less human-looking, their shadowfey heritage clearer. Her good eye is a striking grey on black.

"Welcome, and good Wintertide," she says. "I'm not here to puff you up and make you feel good about tonight. The Duke is better at that than I am and he'll be here in a moment. I'm here to talk tactics."

"The four of you are assigned to the Porte Aguille, the Gate of the Needle." She nods at Connor. "The lad knows the neighborhood well. Lean on him."


You know it indeed. The Rue Desmontaignes, a minor road leading to the western mountains, enters the city there through a narrow gate and crosses half of Coldwater. South of it is the tall stone city center, the Mountain District. The wealthy don't like to live too close to the Keep. North of it, closer to the dangers of the docks and the Keep itself, are the humbler neighborhoods where you grew up.

"The Needle is a small gate, not often used, and it doesn't usually draw a lot of attention at Wintertide, either. This land is sacred, and the dead don't belong here. That's not propaganda -- they don't belong in the land of the living, and Coldwater in particular is consecrated against them. Every step south costs them strength and will. The Needle is far enough north that you don't get the worst of the mindless hordes, but south enough that intelligent troops would rather go straight for the Keep or the Carillions."

"Nonetheless, you will catch strays and the occasional genius who wants to sneak up from the rear. You drew the first shift, before it gets really bad, but you'll see action tonight. Militiamen will be on the wall. You may see them fighting; you may see them die; but unless and until something gets over that wall, you let them fight their own battle. Sooner or later, something will get to you, so be patient."

"If by some ill-chance the gate falls, you fall back to the Avenue leading to the Keep and defend it with the troops stationed there. And whatever you do -- if you hear your own sainted mother out there -- don't you open that godsdamned gate. I'll be on the rampart there and I'll kill anyone who goes for it, I swear by the Maiden."

She looks at Connor again. "I know The Boss is nearby to there. Your station is defending the gate, not your father's pub. It's hard to fear for your family, and I wouldn't station you so close if I didn't have faith you know your duty."

Returning to the whole group: "You have first shift: meaning, you will not last the night. Hold the station as long as you can; when you're spent, signal me and we'll bring in the next shift. It's the only way this works. There are barracks prepared here for you."

[Dirty]

Connor stood and waited around like the others. Not very talkative, very much in suspense by fact of being in a situation completely new to him. He recognized some people from a distance not in his general vicinity, but didn't know them well enough at all to go up and talk. It wasn't a time for socializing anyway.

It was a time to take notice.

He studied the area, the people. Made note of the weather and the general feeling around him.
He tried to take in the people directly around him, but didn't want to be too obvious about it. He made an effort not to stare at Aupti, and Hasgreak. When his eyes met Shad he smiled in that universal 'I know right, waiting.. am I right?' way but refrained from talking since she didn't seem particularly in the mood.

He tugged at the leather straps of his armour, and shifted the weight of his backpack and weapons. Connor was no warrior and although he had a familiarity with the things on him, this wasn't an everyday occurrence, to be wearing it all and mean it. Especially his sword weighed on him. It wasn't the blade, but the meaning behind it. Someone else should be holding this now, he thought. But he's gone, lost to the night. Now it was his turn, to keep this city standing and help rebuke the tide. Connor looked forward to it in a way. It had felt wrong to be left behind while his uncles and brothers were off to the walls.

Now he'd get to know what the songs, and silences, at the Boss were really about.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Beatrice came over he straightened and listened intently to what she had to say. When she mentioned him he nodded once. He knew exactly the area she was talking about. When she mentioned leaving men to fight their own fight and wait for their own action, Connors gaze trailed off over the streets. He started to think about how it would make him feel to leave militiamen, his people, to their own devices.

But when she mentioned his fathers pub he looked her straight in the eye. The curt nod and confident sounding "I understand" came from deep, but he meant them.

He almost didn't catch the last part of what she said. His mind was at the Boss. Where his father would be done boarding up by now, having taken in more people than the place could handle.

Crazy Gail, Marchel and Joyce they'd be helping him out pepping the folks there, women and kids mostly, up with the stories about what they'd do if any of the walking bags of bones dared step foot in the place. The place they had long ago declared their own sacred piece of dirt. They'd anointed the hardwood floor of the Boss with their own offerings of wine, blood and tears more times than the priests prayed in the cathedrals.

They might have been deemed unfit to man the walls, with their missing eyes and fingers. Their impossible attitudes. Their psychological defects making them more likely to steal from the guards than man the wall for even an hour, or worse to try to host a party while waiting. Drunks, thieves and outcasts. They were so incompetent outside of those walls and yet, there wasn't a chance in hell they'd let the Boss fall. Connor felt confident in that, no matter what, the place would be in good hands with that gang of degenerates.

[J-H]

Aupti Human Arctic Druid AC: 13 HP: 10/10 PPer: 15 PInv: 10 PIst: 13 Conditions: -- Concentrating: --

"Yes ma'am your grace." Aupti responds. He'd been hoping to have more space to work with... room to move, and maybe some nice trees around to climb and fight from in safety, but this is is a sacred duty.

He doesn't feel ready.

[Breitheamh]

Shad Human Grappler Fighter AC: 16 HP: 13/13 PPer: 12 PInv: 9 PIst: 12 Conditions: -- Concentrating: --

Shad rubbed her hands together, trying to make sure they kept their feeling. Fighting with numb hands was significantly more difficult after all. She looked around nervously, almost frantically, as Beatrice finished giving them orders.

"Connor!" she whispered urgently, "I only caught the last half of what she said... We're gonna be close to your tavern?
I'm just going to follow along behind you, okay?"

She hefted her halberd and absentmindedly adjusted the straps on her leather underarmor, falling into step with the others. For just a brief moment she caught Beatrice's eye again, thinking, gods damn those eyes are something! But she turned away, her cheeks red as she smacked her helmet to put her mind back into focus.

[zylodrizzt]

Understood lass....just a bit of concern... has the area been prepared for breach or maybe suppliea nearby for such? he asks a bit unsure and hoping his manner of speech as well as his beard cover his fangs. He sure is glad deep dwarves are welcome here at least.


Once they are on the way the ashen dwarf seems to be trying to keep his pace slower and not even breathing hard with the weather the way it is in fact you don't even notice the little puffs of visible breathe from him. His manner of dress is a bit unusual for a dwarf who unusually favor heavier armor but his is light covering only the most vital bits his arms completely uncovered.

To shad along the way Lass i think i sparred with you before in the arena here. Youd make any dwarven father proud he says and after a moment a barest frown obscured from the thick beard as he thinks about the family he could have had.

To conner taking a look around spotting a place he recognized Conner was it? That place there is called the boss? Your tavern? Think i visited once and i think you once tried to engage in conversation with me. I wish to apologize for that.... things hadnt been going well for me and id not like to take it out on someone undeserving. Thats why i fight in that arena bwahahaha he says obscuring the truth of it (not a total lie) but the laugh was genuine.

To aupti Yer from outside this city right? Course you can tell i am. I may have stolen some food from you on my way to this city some months back and i intend to pay it back. When this is all done perhaps you let me get you something?

[Breitheamh]

[COLOR="#800080"]To shad along the way Lass i think i sparred with you before in the arena here. Youd make any dwarven father proud he says and after a moment a barest frown obscured from the thick beard as he thinks about the family he could have had.

"Oh! Um, no, I don't think that was me, sorry..." Shad replies sheepishly, though it's fairly plain to see she's embarrassed or nervous about something. Wait... was that fighting pit not illegal? Do people just openly admit to being brawlers around here?

[zylodrizzt]

My mistake lass must have a twin out there bwahaha. Anyways since we will be working together im hasgraek icegrasp. if anyone is familiar with dwarves of the region usually they will name thier clan as well.

[TriciaOso]

Understood lass....just a bit of concern... has the area been prepared for breach or maybe suppliea nearby for such? he asks a bit unsure and hoping his manner of speech as well as his beard cover his fangs. He sure is glad deep dwarves are welcome here at least.

"If anything makes it over the wall," Beatrice says, "you kill it. If the gate is truly breached, fall back to the Avenue and the Keep. We'll try to bring it down."

Before you leave the courtyard, the Duke himself appears from the keep to address the crowd of adventurers and others a cut above the common militiamen.



Pierre Ci Gît was a warrior in his day, and a mighty one, but now he is old. Much of the defense and running of the city has passed to his heir and daughter. But for the men and women of Coldwater, it's still moving to see him girted in his armor and carrying (perhaps leaning on...) his partisan. He turns his lined face to the crowd and speaks in a voice that is still deep and strong.

Spoiler: He gives an inspiring speech.

Show

"Greetings on this fair Wintertide to you all. I look out over this crowd and I see many faces I know... citizens of our city and old friends, come to our aid once more. To you I have nothing new to say, only my deepest thanks and love to you, who rise once more to the challenge. But many of you are new to me, and new to these walls. I speak to you, now."

"Anyone who lives in Solus must know that the dead go north. Even children learn it, when they face their first lessons in loss and grief. But we of Coldwater know it to be true in a way that others don't. Over the Straits of Ice and beyond the terrors of Blackreach is a hell of ice and darkness. That place belongs to the dead, and the dead keep it. This land belongs to the living, and the dead covet it... the necromancers of Blackreach desire it... the devils seek it... but it is ours, and we keep it. We pledge our lives, and many of us pledge our deaths. The Maiden awaits me, friends, she grows impatient for her dance, and soon I must take her hand. But when I go, I will join the Diet of the Still, the spirits pledged to keep this place."

"Every year, by blood and ashes and the ringing of bells, we consecrate this city anew to Life. And while this city stands, the continent of Solus, this whole living world, will stand as well. If the world of the living falls, it will fall here first. And it must. NOT. FALL."

"By our lives and deaths we rebuke the forces of undeath and we buy, at greatest cost, another year. We are the keystone... we are the shield of the North! Fais sonner les cloches qui peuvent encore sonner!"

At his command, the Iron Carillons begun to ring, for the first time today but not the last. In the stones of the Keep and in the walls around the city, spirit guardians stir and stand, spectral, beside the living guards. In the harbor, a net of copper and silver is raised across the bay, held up by tall towers. The soldiers of Coldwater clash their swords on their shields, a vast ringing that echoes the bells and fills the city.

Beatrice looks at the four of you. "You have the rest of the day to prepare. Sleep if you can. Sunset, at the Porte Aguille."

[Breitheamh]

My mistake lass must have a twin out there bwahaha. Anyways since we will be working together im hasgraek icegrasp. if anyone is familiar with dwarves of the region usually they will name thier clan as well.

"Right..." she replies uncertainly, "Um, I'm Cha---Shad... Just Shad." A forlorn look crosses her face for a moment, but she quickly changes the subject. "A fitting name for you, then!" she continues jovially, "I could barely get out of that grip of yours!" Then her face suddenly drains, "Uhh, um, that is, I mean your handshake."

She pauses awkwardly, looking anywhere but the dwarf's eyes, then abruptly turns and walks very quickly over to Connor and pretends to be listening to something he's saying.

Before you leave the courtyard, the Duke himself appears from the keep to address the crowd of adventurers and others a cut above the common militiamen.



Pierre Ci Gît was a warrior in his day, and a mighty one, but now he is old. Much of the defense and running of the city has passed to his heir and daughter. But for the men and women of Coldwater, it's still moving to see him girted in his armor and carrying (perhaps leaning on...) his partisan. He turns his lined face to the crowd and speaks in a voice that is still deep and strong.

Spoiler: He gives an inspiring speech.

Show

"Greetings on this fair Wintertide to you all. I look out over this crowd and I see many faces I know... citizens of our city and old friends, come to our aid once more. To you I have nothing new to say, only my deepest thanks and love to you, who rise once more to the challenge. But many of you are new to me, and new to these walls. I speak to you, now."

"Anyone who lives in Solus must know that the dead go north. Even children learn it, when they face their first lessons in loss and grief. But we of Coldwater know it to be true in a way that others don't. Over the Straits of Ice and beyond the terrors of Blackreach is a hell of ice and darkness. That place belongs to the dead, and the dead keep it. This land belongs to the living, and the dead covet it... the necromancers of Blackreach desire it... the devils seek it... but it is ours, and we keep it. We pledge our lives, and many of us pledge our deaths. The Maiden awaits me, friends, she grows impatient for her dance, and soon I must take her hand. But when I go, I will join the Diet of the Still, the spirits pledged to keep this place."

"Every year, by blood and ashes and the ringing of bells, we consecrate this city anew to Life. And while this city stands, the continent of Solus, this whole living world, will stand as well. If the world of the living falls, it will fall here first. And it must. NOT. FALL."

"By our lives and deaths we rebuke the forces of undeath and we buy, at greatest cost, another year. We are the keystone... we are the shield of the North! Fais sonner les cloches qui peuvent encore sonner!"

At his command, the Iron Carillons begun to ring, for the first time today but not the last. In the stones of the Keep and in the walls around the city, spirit guardians stir and stand, spectral, beside the living guards. In the harbor, a net of copper and silver is raised across the bay, held up by tall towers. The soldiers of Coldwater clash their swords on their shields, a vast ringing that echoes the bells and fills the city.

Beatrice looks at the four of you. "You have the rest of the day to prepare. Sleep if you can. Sunset, at the Porte Aguille."

Shad feels the stirring in her heart almost unbidden as the duke rallies the soldiers and citizenry with his speech. Whoa... okay this is serious now... She looks around at those lifting their voices to the rousing battlecry, and almost instinctually joins in, her shriek matching what she let loose whenever she managed to finish a flawless joint-lock or pin a man bigger than her through sheer willpower. It was the primal scream of a warrior's spirit joining chorus with its fellows... and it felt good.

Of course Charity knew where the spirits of the dead go, and she had heard the stories of Coldwater standing alone against the forces of darkness that sought a foothold in Solus, but it was always distant. They were mere fairy tales to her and her brothers, no one she'd grown up with had any true understanding of what it really meant that there was a SHIELD in the north. But now Shad was here, and though not truly of her own accord, with the Duke's speech echoing through the toll of the bells and ringing in her heart she began to understand... If Coldwater fell, so would Croplan...so would Jenny... so would everything she had ever held dear.

Shad gripped her halberd a bit tighter and cracked her knuckles, her mouth curling up in a wolfish sneer. I'm here now, Blackreach, and you've never seen the likes of me before. So bring me your monsters of nightmare, and go **** yourself while I strangle them with my bare hands.

[J-H]

Aupti
"Sleep? Sleep?" he whispers. Aupti has trouble sleeping before a hunt or when the next day is going to be big and exciting. Sleeping before he dies? "Hey Connor, where can I get some apple pie?" Made with imported sugar, it's a luxury item, but one worth eating.

[zylodrizzt]

Let me get that for you... checking his pockets Well... maybe if i ask real nice like. he says as he feels only a single coin. He didn't have many needs anymore so rarely kept track til he needed more cash. He managed still tho somehow by the kindness of strangers.

conner do you suppose your kin might lend some supplies so we can set up maybe some bottleneck or traps? Think ill ask around that area im sure folks would be willing to donate to the cause so long as thier safe and can get thier stuff back. he says mainly to conner but thinking others might chime in.

After the directions and some instruction hasgraek goes to inspect the site seeing if there is anything useful to perhaps bottle neck combatants or slow thier progress (like setting up trap). He takes note about normal routes up to the top of the wall but also takes note on how tall buildings and the wall is. Notes how his ammunition is rather light and he lacks as many daggers as he'd want so once he's satisfied with his scouting he decides to help others in the hopes that they'd want to help him back.

[Dirty]

"Connor!" she whispered urgently, "I only caught the last half of what she said... We're gonna be close to your tavern?
I'm just going to follow along behind you, okay?"

Connor nodded and smiled. "Safest place in Coldwater." He confidently lied. "Ofcourse, I gotcha. You're one of us now." He said warmly as he pointed out landmarks and showed the shortest way from the spot they were going to protect to the Boss. He tried to avoid weaving through alleys and shortcuts, instead opting for the easier to remember route.

[COLOR="#800080"]

To conner taking a look around spotting a place he recognized Conner was it? That place there is called the boss? Your tavern? Think i visited once and i think you once tried to engage in conversation with me. I wish to apologize for that.... things hadnt been going well for me and id not like to take it out on someone undeserving. Thats why i fight in that arena bwahahaha he says obscuring the truth of it (not a total lie) but the laugh was genuine.

"My dad's bar actually. It's as old as Coldwater, though it used to be a pigfarm way back when, before even these walls had been built." He remembered trying to strike up a conversation with the peculiar dwarf, but hadn't given it much thought since a lot of his thinking was preoccupied with the nights happenings. "No worries, I understand." He replied to Hasgreak. "I'm sure we'll get to know each other."

During Duke Ci Gits speech

Aupti
"Sleep? Sleep?" he whispers. Aupti has trouble sleeping before a hunt or when the next day is going to be big and exciting. Sleeping before he dies? "Hey Connor, where can I get some apple pie?" Made with imported sugar, it's a luxury item, but one worth eating.

"Millie's bakery has everything worth tasting." Connor said proudly. He wasn't sure if she sold applepie with imported sugar, but Connor would gladly go out of his way to check. Truth be told Connor fancied Saga, Millies daughter and she occasionally worked the counter. "I'm sure they have apple pie. Let's see if they're still hawking pastries, it's possible they've boarded up already but we might be lucky."

conner do you suppose your kin might lend some supplies so we can set up maybe some bottleneck or traps? Think ill ask around that area im sure folks would be willing to donate to the cause so long as thier safe and can get thier stuff back. he says mainly to conner but thinking others might chime in.

After the directions and some instruction hasgraek goes to inspect the site seeing if there is anything useful to perhaps bottle neck combatants or slow thier progress (like setting up trap). He takes note about normal routes up to the top of the wall but also takes note on how tall buildings and the wall is. Notes how his ammunition is rather light and he lacks as many daggers as he'd want so once he's satisfied with his scouting he decides to help others in the hopes that they'd want to help him back.

"Ask Marchel at the Boss. He's a retired bouncer and doesn't look too friendly but if he knows I sent you he might be able to help." Connor said.

He was fast enjoying showing the group around. It gave him something to do and take his mind off of the coming battle. It also filled him with a pride and confidence for knowing this place so well. And most importantly, he was learning all about these new folks. He took his time to note Shads mannerisms, Hasgreaks gruff directness and Auptis disconnected way of seeing and talking. Who in their right mind would go for apple pie at a time like this? But then again, this is the perfect time for apple pie if that's your thing. It was a treat to meet these newcomers and their company was more than welcome.
He showed them the way to the Boss, to the bakery and to the gate, tried to explain as much as he could and help fullfill any request they had. Anything really, to keep the spirits up and the thoughts of death at a comfortable distance.

[J-H]

Aupti enjoys the apple pie. It's not cheap, but it is quite good, and he shares a few pieces with his compatriots. "If tonight is as dangerous as they say... better to not face it with a stomach full of porridge."

As the day draws to a close, they reach their post. Aupti takes an old bear trap out of his pack and finds a likely spot to chain it at, then covers it with some snow after making sure everyone knows where it is...

[Dirty]

As Aupti was setting his traps, Connor had his piece of pie still untouched, wrapped up in the beeswaxed cloth beside him. He had taken out his flute as he sat on a crate, slumped down in a half lying down way he still had a good view of the spot they were protecting and of some of the people on the wall. He played some quick tunes, tried his fingers and some different cadence here and there as he was trying to find the right melodie for today. A day of suspense, a dreaded day. But one met with resolve. He looked at the people on the wall again. A known day, a named day. There was clarity here. Do or die. He looked at the strangers he'd only just met. There'd been surprises too, unexpected gems throughout the day. People helping others, taking in and care of each other.

He started playing a suspenseful tune. He weaved in the melodie they used to grab the spirits attention before lighting the pyre. He wanted to let the people on the wall know that today was for them, and the ones before them.

He started playing slow but sped up at some point and the music changed from a sad suspenseful tune to one of a clear and beautiful song that tried to invoke bravery and pride. He played with the rhythm to add some body to it. When he found his groove he soon gave it four different chapters, and took his time to weave the form and tonality together organically.

The first was for Coldwater, recognisable and respectful both to the dead and the living.
The second was for a gentle soul, the type to stop and smell the flowers. The type to remember to get some apple pie before the eve of battle.
The third was for a wild and untamed soul, full of anger and anxiety just looking for acceptance
The fourth was for someone with strong hands, a gruff demeanor but with a heart of gold.

Spoiler

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Performce roll: 24

[TriciaOso]

Aupti enjoys the apple pie. It's not cheap, but it is quite good, and he shares a few pieces with his compatriots. "If tonight is as dangerous as they say... better to not face it with a stomach full of porridge."

As the day draws to a close, they reach their post. Aupti takes an old bear trap out of his pack and finds a likely spot to chain it at, then covers it with some snow after making sure everyone knows where it is...

After the directions and some instruction hasgraek goes to inspect the site seeing if there is anything useful to perhaps bottle neck combatants or slow thier progress (like setting up trap). He takes note about normal routes up to the top of the wall but also takes note on how tall buildings and the wall is. Notes how his ammunition is rather light and he lacks as many daggers as he'd want so once he's satisfied with his scouting he decides to help others in the hopes that they'd want to help him back.

At the gate you encounter other adventurers with the same idea, the group that will take the late night shift after you leave the field. They are all women; a gnome, a half-elf, a wood elf and an eladrin. They call themselves the Devise sisters, and despite their diverse backgrounds do seem to share the same huge amethyst eyes. A gangling firbolg fellow working with a hammer to reinforce the gate seems to be affiliated with them as well. They are friendly enough, if understandably grim, and explain that they are standing the vigil because they owe a favor to a grave cleric.

Their ranger, Niala, works with you to place and set up traps, and Hasgraek is able to use his thieves' tools to repair one. The gnome rogue shares a few daggers (four). She seems to have an unlimited supply from a magic bracer she acquired recently and doesn't need these anymore.

As Aupti was setting his traps, Connor had his piece of pie still untouched, wrapped up in the beeswaxed cloth beside him. He had taken out his flute as he sat on a crate, slumped down in a half lying down way he still had a good view of the spot they were protecting and of some of the people on the wall. He played some quick tunes, tried his fingers and some different cadence here and there as he was trying to find the right melodie for today. A day of suspense, a dreaded day. But one met with resolve. He looked at the people on the wall again. A known day, a named day. There was clarity here. Do or die. He looked at the strangers he'd only just met. There'd been surprises too, unexpected gems throughout the day. People helping others, taking in and care of each other.

He started playing a suspenseful tune. He weaved in the melodie they used to grab the spirits attention before lighting the pyre. He wanted to let the people on the wall know that today was for them, and the ones before them.

He started playing slow but sped up at some point and the music changed from a sad suspenseful tune to one of a clear and beautiful song that tried to invoke bravery and pride. He played with the rhythm to add some body to it. When he found his groove he soon gave it four different chapters, and took his time to weave the form and tonality together organically.

The first was for Coldwater, recognisable and respectful both to the dead and the living.
The second was for a gentle soul, the type to stop and smell the flowers. The type to remember to get some apple pie before the eve of battle.
The third was for a wild and untamed soul, full of anger and anxiety just looking for acceptance
The fourth was for someone with strong hands, a gruff demeanor but with a heart of gold.

Spoiler

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Performce roll: 24

The shortest day of the year runs away fast between your fingers, with the Iron Carillons chiming away. The two biggest batteries, facing the bay, aren't not far from here, and several smaller towers in courtyards around the keep accompany them. The bells ring lightly on the quarter hours, but as the sun begins set in the West, a heavy tolling goes out over the whole city, warning that night is here. From your position you have an extraordinary view of the sun slipping behind the Touchsky Peaks. Huge torches are lit on either side of the gate and down the Rue Desmontaignes.

It's not long after that that the warning toll sounds again; necromancer ships seen in the bay, their pennants of red and black and bronze, figured with skulls and swords and chains. From the ramparts, Beatrice shouts down what is unfolding on the shore west of the city.

"First landing! It's the Onager clan, be prepared for seige equipment."

...

"The encampment around the Keep is filling up, the seige is spilling down the wall. Brace yourselves..."

...

And soon you don't need her warning that troops are gathered on the other side of the gate; the stamp of dead feet and the clank of steel on steel (and the dull noise of steel on bone) is audible to all. And then the drums begin; the necromancers of Blackreach have their own counterpoint to the bells.

"Shrouds, shadows, and other intangibles moving in. Most of this lot aren't strong enough to pass the wall, but standby for survivors."

A tide of whispers and moans moves over the battle field, rising to fierce, desperate shrieks that die away in a sizzling hiss as they collide with the consecration of the walls. Most aren't strong enough to pass the wall, but a handful of shades escape from the stones on this side of the gate and glide towards you, hungry for life.



One of the four is taller, darker and more sinister than the others.

Spoiler: Summary

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The three shrouds and the shadow enter on init 17 and use their action and movement to move closer.

INITIATIVE
20 - Aupti
17 - Shrouds & Shadow
10 - Connor, Shad, Hasgraek

[J-H]

Aupti Human Arctic Druid AC: 13 HP: 10/10 PPer: 15 PInv: 10 PIst: 13 Conditions: -- Concentrating: Faerie Fire

Aupti looks at the unnatural creatures... they do indeed look like they want to suck the life out of him. He casts a spell, causing the dust they disturb to glow green and stick to them.

Spoiler

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Each object in a 20-foot cube within range is outlined in blue, green, or violet light (your choice). Any creature in the area when the spell is cast is also outlined in light if it fails a Dexterity saving throw. For the duration, objects and affected creatures shed dim light in a 10-foot radius.

Any attack roll against an affected creature or object has advantage if the attacker can see it, and the affected creature or object can't benefit from being invisible.
Hit Shadow and the two easternmost Shrouds. DC 13
Shadow Dex (1d20)[9]+?
Shroud 2 Dex (1d20)[18]+?
Shroud 3 Dex (1d20)[15]+?

[zylodrizzt]

Hasgraek comments on the music. Not a criticism just an observation Fore a battle in me clan on the front lines with shields and axe me clan would stomp and strike thier shields psyching themselves up. Yer flute be heavenly but thinkin ye need some bass... some growl. as he finishes on the trap. I dont have the right stuff or even the right rythm but somethin like this... he takes two daggers and begins beating them on something wooden nearby with the blunt ends and gives a mighty yell. Thatll bring them bastards to us bwahaha. He finishes preparations by burying some traps in the snow. He thanks the naila for the daggers and offers to give them back if she wants them.

Once battle is joined he sees the one light up with ghostly fire he picks it out and fires at it with his short bow. Tho its barely perceptable hasgraek pricked his finger on his arrow and left some blood on it. When it struck the blood lanced in deeper. The blood crusted over hasgraek finger quite quickly Imagine that shadow dont like light bwahaha he says before he begins his climb to the roof. Surpising how he climbs so easily with his bulk.Pick em off cleaner up here! COME GET ME YOU BASTARDS!

[Breitheamh]

Shad Human Grappler Fighter AC: 16 HP: 13/13 PPer: 12 PInv: 9 PIst: 12 Conditions: -- Concentrating: --

After the Duke's rousing speech, and the cheerful and kindly way that Connor showed their little group around, Shad almost seemed to be starting to smile a bit. She graciously accepted a slice of apple pie, and observed Aupti's odd, unrefined manner again, this time starting to pick up that he was genuinely actually trying to be polite. As they eat, she somewhat intentionally gets a mess of crumbs on her face and wipes them off with the back of her sleeve, commenting as she chews the massive bite, "Y'know, mmfgh, manners are pretty overrated, 'specially when there's a bigger crop to mill." She gives Aupti an attempt at an encouraging smile.

---

While the others set up the traps and Connor plays his moving tune, Shad can't help but keep throwing glances at the half-elf woman who had introduced herself as Calandra Devise. She tries an attempt at confidence and approaches her, "So, you've got the shift after us, huh? You, umm... ever tried apple pie? There's a great bakery just over there, you should try some..." she reddens noticeably. She LIVES here, stupid! She probably already knows about the place, and who HASN'T had apple pie?!
"Um, right, yeah, I'm Shad... have a great night!" and she turns away before she can make it any worse. Have a great night?!? What is wrong with you?? We're going into battle, not out dancing!

---

Shad keeps her grip tight on the halberd at her side as Beatrice describes the unfolding battle scene, her heart beating harder and faster as the sounds of drums and feet beating out their discordant rhythm sweep into their position.

The approach, the sounds of battle, and the wailing and moaning of spirits and undead fill her with adrenaline, anxiety, something akin to fear. I'm no coward, she thinks as she prepares herself to witness the first of these unholy abominations to make it past the outer wall...

And then...

They appear, like something out of ghost stories her governess used to tell her, or the exaggerated tales told for evening's entertainment in the local pubs... except, she realizes with a sudden, stark, blood-draining feeling of dread, they're not exaggerated...these are real....

Oh, ****, oh ****, holy Sun King's ****, ****ing what the **** is happening?!

She tries to shove down the horror of realization and sudden increase in understanding of the attitudes and culture of Coldwater, and forces out a battle cry that comes out more like a shrill scream, and does the only ****ing thing she's any good at, swinging her halberd at the nearest wailing spirit creature, hardly bothering to wonder if she can even hurt creature that she just witnesses phase through solid matter.

Spoiler: Mechanics

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Attack the shroud that is within 10 ft of my current position with a halberd:
Attack (1d20+5)[17]
Damage (1d10+3)[6] (if crit +(1d10)[5])

[Dirty]

Connor laughed at Hasgreaks performance and took the remarks in good stride. "We'll do a duet back at the Boss someday soon." He chuckled thinking about it.

When the spirits appeared, no trace of a smile was left on Connors face. This was it.

Connor ran up next to Shad and charged the apparition with his shortsword and his dagger drawn. For Coldwater! Magennis!! He shouted from the top of his lungs as he started stabbing wildly.

Spoiler

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Actions: Attacks with shortsword:
To Hit: 1d20 (10) + 5 = 15
Damage: 1d6 (5) + 3 = 8
Bonus action: Attacks with dagger:'
To Hit: 1d20 (6) + 5 = 11
Damage: 4

[J-H]

Aupti Human Arctic Druid AC: 13 HP: 10/10 PPer: 15 PInv: 10 PIst: 13 Conditions: -- Concentrating: Faerie Fire

Aupti focuses, and the energy of the world concentrates slightly. Vibrations grow in his hand until the air heats, forming a glowing ball of flame, which he hurls at the shadow wreathed in glowing light. The flames smack it right in the face and stick to it for a moment before dissipating.

Spoiler

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Produce Flame, with advantage (1d20+5)[25] or (1d20+5)[14] for (1d8)[2] fire damage crit +8 = 10

[TriciaOso]

The shroud wails and melts into vapor with Connor's first strike. In retaliation, the injured shadow lunges for the young bard -- but before it can close, Aupti's flame strikes it. Fire kindles in the tangle of smoke that is its chest, and for a moment it blazes like one of the torches flanking the gate. Then the smoke drifts away.

The other spirits also move forward swiftly, pawing at Connor, but the attacks cannot penetrate his armor; frost forms on the leather, but he takes no harm.

Spoiler: Passive Perception 10+

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Up on the wall, shrouds that cannot make it all the way through the wall begin bursting up from the parapet and attacking the militiamen. Most of them repel the attacks successfully, but you see at least one militaman fall, the shroud growing taller, stronger, darker as it absorbs his life force.

Beatrice blasts it dust and calls for an orderly to drag the body away. Priests are waiting in the towers to consecrate the body so it doesn't rise as another shroud.

Spoiler: Summary

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ACTIONS: Shroud 2 is killed by Connor's attack. Shadow is killed by Aupti's Produce Flame. The two remaining shrouds attack Connor; both miss.

DAMAGE:
Shadow - destroyed
Shroud 2 - destroyed

INITIATIVE:
20 - Aupti
17 - Shrouds & Shadow
10 - Connor, Shad, Hasgraek

[J-H]

Aupti Human Arctic Druid AC: 13 HP: 10/10 PPer: 15 PInv: 10 PIst: 13 Conditions: -- Concentrating: --

"That worked!" Aupti mutters in surprise. He's supposed to stay quiet when fighting or hunting, so as to not draw attention. Oops. He flings flame again.

Spoiler

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Targeting whichever is most damaged by the time his turn comes up.
Produce Flame (1d20+5)[20] for (1d8)[5] fire damage

[Dirty]

Connor had no time to mourn his fallen countrymen. He'd soon learn the name of the poor soul on the wall and he wasn't soon to forget them. But now was not a time to lament. He stabbed and slashed with abandon. A gritty look on his face.

Spoiler

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Actions:

Attack action;
To Hit: 1d20 (17) + 5 = 22
Damage: 1d6 (2) + 3 = 5

Bonus action, dagger attack;
To Hit: 1d20 (11) + 5 = 16
Damage: 4

[zylodrizzt]

Hasgraek considers for a moment to go to the wall but quickly realizes that it is well handled right now. His finger he pricked bleeds once more onto the arrow head and forms a much larger head for a much larger hole. Upon striking the blood detonated inside the shadow. BWAHAHA!he laughs as his finger once more covers itself in dried blood.

[TriciaOso]

Hasgraek's arrow takes down the last shroud, and for a moment you all have room and time to breath. The fighting on the wall continues, and the urge to lend your aid is strong, but your role is to stop anything that gets past the wall; if you join them on the wall and anything gets past you, it will run through the city unopposed.

"Ladders," shouts out Beatrice, as scaffolds made of bone and sinew propel themselves up the walls. Now the militia must tear themselves away from the shrouds to push down the ladders and stop the large group of skeletons trying to make it over the wall. "Hell's bells!" she yells. "They're birdfolk! Hold the gate!" The last is shouted down to the four of you.

Spoiler: Religion 15+, Connor has adv

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Birdfolk skeletons are lightweight and less durable than human skeletons, but because of their weight and their talons are better at climbing walls. While their leathery scraps of wing don't let them fly, they can glide to the ground from a height. The necromancers must have raided the aarakocra and other birdfolk encampments in the Skytouch Peaks to build this army.

The tide of birdfolk skeletons attempt to rush past the militia and hurl themselves over the wall; while their leathery scraps of wing don't let them fly, they can glide to the ground from a height. At the same time the shrouds hector the militia mercilessly. Six skeletons make it to the edge and drop into the courtyard before the gate.

Two of the skeletons land on your traps when they come over the wall. They ignore you and shamble towards the gate itself, where a third steps on the trap placed there. The others keep moving, heading towards the mechanisms of the gate.

Spoiler: Summary

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ACTIONS: Six Birdfolk Skeletons come over the wall. Three trigger the traps you placed and are stuck in place, taking minor damage. The other three approach the gate.

DAMAGE:
Birdfolk Skeleton 1 - 2 dmg
Birdfolk Skeleton 2 - 1 dmg
Birdfolk Skeleton 3 - 0 dmg
Birdfolk Skeleton 4 - 0 dmg
Birdfolk Skeleton 5 - 0 dmg
Birdfolk Skeleton 6 - 2 dmg

INITIATIVE:
20 - Aupti
10 - Birdfolk Skeletons, Connor, Shad, Hasgraek

[Breitheamh]

Shad Human Grappler Fighter AC: 16 HP: 13/13 PPer: 12 PInv: 9 PIst: 12 Conditions: -- Concentrating: --

Shad watches in horrified shock as more monsters from out of nightmare come flooding toward and over the wall. Her companions quickly dispatch the few that had reached their group, but more were still coming... and coming... and more and more were still coming.

The traps did their job effectively, and she steeled herself to gather some courage to charge for the ones the traps didn't stop. She was inexperienced in battle, but the primal fear of being overrun by the undead if those gates were opened up spurred her into action. And as for restraining and pulling people, she knew THAT was something she was good at.

She rushes in toward the skeletons and places herself in a position where she can reach a few at once, and grabs for one of them, focusing her attention to lock down one before it can reach the gate's mechanisms, and calling out, "I'm gonna need some help keeping away from the gate!"

Spoiler: Mechanics

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Moving to the spot where I'm within 5 ft of #4 and #5.
Grapple attempt against #5
Athletics: (1d20+7)[11]

And Athletics roll in response to it's attempt to escape on its turn (I assume that's what it will do): (1d20+7)[14]