Hordes of Chaos [IC]

[crimson77]

[NOTE:All images used in this campaign were found on openRPG web pages and webrings and they are assumed to be opensource. They were modified for this campaign. If you are an creator/owner of a certain images and do not with me to use it please let me know and i will remove it.]

Go a head an post your character sheets here. Do not in the game until everyone has posted their character sheets

[OVERLAND MAP]

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Current Story
You are in the city of Kutur, jobs here have been scarce and prices have been rather higher for good than you would have liked. The last few days the city has been bombarded by snow fall but this morning light is shining through the window in your private room. Your money is getting too low for your liking and today is the day to pay for another weeks stay at the inn.

After dressing for another mundane day, you pass the innkeepers desk. He glances up at you from a book and smiles sliding a rolled piece of parchment to you. "You received this by currier today, I do not know what it is..." You open the parchment which reads...

Friend,
I am sorry that I could not deliver this in person, but I have a proposition for you. I am in desperate need for some winter lion pelts from a town up north. I was wondering if you would join a small expedition heading up there. I am currently gathering up items to send to Keven who runs a merchant shop. I am willing to pay you for your time escorting my good up north and returning with at least five of the pelts.

Please meet me at my warehouse this afternoon.

Amier

[OOC: You have the rest of the morning to get any last items you need. Prices are 3x the phb for anything purchased after character creation.]

Upon arriving at the warehouse you are greeted by the gnome Amier, he smiles and says "Welcome, I am so very glad that you could join us." You see a couple of workers strapped down goods to a wagon. A you wait for a few moments and three others join you, Amier greets them as well. The gnome finally after gathering his paper smiles and says, "All rightly then, sorry for the wait, I am so dreadfully busy. I have a bit of a proposition for you, I was wondering if the four of you would like to travel north to the town of Bigbear to deliver some good to Keven's store and purchase from him as many winter lion pelts as you can. I will be willing to outfit you for your journey, pay you 50 gold each for your traveling. For each lion pelt that you bring back I will pay the group an additional 50 gold. Finally, i will give the group 25 gold for travel expenses so you can stay and eat at the inn in bigbear. It will take you seven days to reach Bigbear if there is no snow. What do you think?"

The wagon contains

• A large tent
• 56 rations + feed for the mule
• A small barrel of wine
• 4 winter blankets
• flit and steel
• Two large crates to be delivered to Bigbear

[MAP]

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[Ayrynthyn]

Ryesean Dor

Background...... grr, hopefully still in the word doc at home

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updated tonight

[Wildboy]

Reserved for the bestest necromancer this side of the lakes. Seth Blackmourn

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Seth Blackmourn was born in a small town Gilnor. It is located on the along the mountains to the north. Its prime form of currency is from the trading of slaves and the income from gambling in the gladiator ring.

Being the son of a free gladiator Seth’s father raised him to fight. It was when his training started that Seth’s father realized there was something odd with his son. Seth would sit with a look on his face as if trying to listen to something only he could hear. Seth hated the warrior training and the more he failed the more his father his father pushed. When a gladiator pushes it is often painful and messy. Seth didn’t mind all the training. Going to the arena to watch actual gladiators bouts were thrilling to him. Not the actual combat as it was the result of which. He wanted to feel the last of their breath on his skin. Smell the mix of sweat, blood and body excretion. Something drew him, called to him from some place hidden. It was always the loudest when someone died. Seth always felt more…alive. When Seth was of age his father volunteered him to work the grave detail of the arena. There Seth met Kranon an aging man with not a sign of hair growing on his body. Seth thought it an odd look brought on by age. It was only a few years later did he realize its true cause.

Kranon recognized quickly Seth’s potential. He trained him in the body’s functions and anatomy of most creatures. He also honed in on Seth’s ability to hear the weave. The weave of life that few can touch even those who are able to create small incantations of nature and energy was one of the more powerful methods of magic. Seth learned quickly how to listen to its woeful song and to bend it to his ways. With each practiced stroke into the weave the negative energy wreaked havoc to his body. Sometimes it would be fits of vomiting or moments of prolonged weakness. The most evident was that bald patches that were becoming more apparent on his scalp.

Seth’s father was becoming furious with the direction Seth was moving his life. His body, though toned, was not the muscular presence it once was. The more Seth was able control the weave and hear it the more defiant he became. He thought he could stand to his father and his father quickly learned what his arrogance can bring. Seth woke with bandages around his jaw and Kranon disposing of his old bloodied bandages. The two quickly left Gilnor uncertain of Seth’s fathers actions. When the bandages were removed Seth was welcomed with a horrific sight. A gash followed along the right side of his face exposing his jaw bone. The flesh healed to the bone leaving it exposed and a hole was formed in his right check that did not seem to heal properly because of his own saliva. Seth’s mind twisted slightly that day and the mournful tune became more clear.

Seth wore black, the custom colors of the grave shift of the arena. He found the monk styles allowed for more movement to control the weave and were comfortable to work in. To cover his disfigurement Seth modified the tunic of his monks outfit with a deep covering hood. He wrapped the lower half of his face cover his mouth with a handkerchief dyed a deep black.

Not long after traveling with his mentor Kranon gave Seth a box. He explained to the young man that as soon as he was able to open it he would no longer need the company of his mentor. Seth traveled for another two years with the old man. Each night he would try to open the box and each night he would fail. The weave’s mournful song would change when Seth would attempt to open the container and in Seth’s minds eye he would see images of the ocean. Seth’s and Kranon’s journey’s lead them to the river and the weave’s music thundered in Seth’s ears. An expression of understanding and joy splashed across his hidden face as he spoke the ancient words ‘Aquans Trav’ and threw the box into the water. The box unfolded itself and landed with a loud splash into the water. In the place of the box was a small sailing vessel capable of seating nine. Seth turned to his mentor and his expression of joy quickly vanished. There on the river bank lay Kranon. He heard the mournful song of the weave echo loudly in his ears and for a brief moment thought he saw the spirit of his mentor pass from his body only to be absorbed by Seth. Seth is still unsure of the vision he saw as he made his way to a new beginning.

[Chu]

Yuri Sunstrider, Swashbuckler extraordinaire!

[oliana0]

Franklin, the Druid

[crimson77]

reserved -

[crimson77]

[MAP] - updated w/ pcs

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[Chu]

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{table]Yuri Sunstrider|Elf|Swashbuckler|3 LVL|CN|M
hp: 19/19|Init +3|Spd 30|AC/T/FF|17/13/14|Light
Melee Atk -> |+5 dual sickles|dmg: 1d6+2(x2)|
|+7 sickle|dmg: 1d6+2|
Ranged Atk ->|+6 longbow|dmg: 1d8|
Saves ->|Fort +3|Ref +5|Will +1|
STR 13|DEX 17|CON 10|INT 14|WIS 10| CHA 8[/table]

Reading over the scroll that was left for him, he checks to make sure this was the right warehouse. Well, this is it alright. May as well go check it out. Money wouldn't be turned down; it'll help me find what I'm about. Composing himself himself, he opens the door and steps in, taking a look around, he gives an evaluating glance at the others who had gathered, disregarding any who look like obvious workers.

Physically unremarkable, except for his long, blazingly red hair - which seemed liable to spring out and attack passers-by - the elf rolls up the scroll and plunks his hands on his hips as he surveys the room. At each hip, a pair of nasty-looking sickles were strapped in custom-made holsters hanging from his belt. He wears a glistening, almost scale-like shirt, the only covering over the fine material being the diagonally-running belt that kept a quiver of arrows strapped to his back, a longbow strapped alongside it. Eyes dancing to and fro, with an energy unusual to many elves, he had an almost gleeful look about him at the aspect of this new journey.

Hoisting the furled-up scroll in the air, he looks around at the party, unfamiliar with who Ariel was. He was about to pipe up with that very question, when the gnome answers that question for him with his proposition. Humming to himself and mulling over it, he crumples up the scroll and tosses it aside, stepping forward.
"Your offer, it seems, is just and fair,
Crisp, and clear, just like my hair.
Though about the money,
Your wording is funny,
And that is, will the 50 gold per pelt be to share?"

[crimson77]

The gnome wrinkles his brow at Yuri's response, not sure how to respond to the rhyming elf. It seems that he almost has something to say back to the elf, but thinks better of it and shuts his mouth and waits for a few moments before replying. "Yuri, I am so glad that you could make it." He takes a long drag on his pipe before responding in a smoke filled reply, "What is this about my wording? You got an old gnome so confused."

[Chu]

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{table]Yuri Sunstrider|Elf|Swashbuckler|3 LVL|CN|M
hp: 19/19|Init +3|Spd 30|AC/T/FF|17/13/14|Light
Melee Atk -> |+5 dual sickles|dmg: 1d6+2(x2)|
|+7 sickle|dmg: 1d6+2|
Ranged Atk ->|+6 longbow|dmg: 1d8|
Saves ->|Fort +3|Ref +5|Will +1|
STR 13|DEX 17|CON 10|INT 14|WIS 10| CHA 8[/table]

Giving a forced smile, yet another example of people being too slow for his "Quick" tongue, Yuri tries again to get his point across.
"Fifty gold per pelt, correct?
Is that for the group to collect?
Or is the bounty fifty each,
Provided the funds aren't out of reach?"

[crimson77]

"I understand what you mean now boy." He takes another slow drag from his pipe and blow it out before starting again, "I'll give you 50 gold per pelt to be shared among those who embark to the north."

[Wildboy]

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{table] Seth Blackmourn | Human| Necro Sorcerer| LVL 3 | CN |MED
hp: 9/9 | Init +3 | Spd 30 | AC/T/FF | 10/10/10 | Monks Outfit modified
Melee Atk |+0 | N/A | Ranged Atk |+0 Daggers | dmg: 1d4
SV | Fort +2 | Ref +1 | Wil +4||
STR 10 | DEX 16 | CON 14 | INT 13 | WIS 8 | CHA 12
[/table]

Spells
{table]Level 0 | Level 1
6 | 6
Detect Magic | Ray of Enfeeblement
Read Magic | Identify
Disrupt Undead | Chill Touch
Touch of Fatigue |
Prestidigitation |
[/table]

A thin man dressed in what appears to be a modified monks outfit dyed black with a white owl sitting on his shoulder enters the warehouse. He is of average build though leaning more towarrds the thin side. He is toned like a long distance runner and his posture is one of confidence. The hood and sash covering his nose and lower portions of his face almost completely cover his appearance. The only distinguishing feature of his face are his eyes. His bright green eyes quickly glance around the warehouse then lock on the two individual's speaking. " I have come to answer this parchment." His voice is as soft as a whisper yet can be heard from across the room. "Is this the place that this note originated from?"

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{table]Concentration|1d20+7|Knowledge Arcana|1d20+8
Spellcraft|1d20+8|Use Magic Device|1d20+3
Bluff|1d20+8||
[/table]

GranShaw(Owl)
Size/Type: Tiny Animal
Hit Dice: 3d8 (12 hp)
Initiative: +3
Speed: 10 ft. (2 squares), fly 40 ft. (average)
Armor Class: 17 (+2 size, +3 Dex, +2 natural), touch 15, flat-footed 14 1
Base Attack/Grapple: +0/-11
Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Full Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Space/Reach: 2½ ft./0 ft.
Special Attacks: —
Special Qualities: Low-light vision
Saves: Fort +2, Ref +5, Will +2
Abilities: Str 4, Dex 17, Con 10, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 4
Skills: Listen +14, Move Silently +17, Spot +6*
Feats: Alertness, Weapon FinesseB
Environment: Temperate forests
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: ¼ ¼
Alignment: Always neutral
Advancement: 2 HD (Small)
Level Adjustment: —

[oliana0]

Franklin

A small halfling with dark hair and leather like skin walks into the warehouse using a wooden staff as a walking stick in one hand and alternatively chewing on and fidgeting with a cigar in his other hand. He wears a ruffled shirt under the leather armor and a red waistcoat over. A small tarnished brass chain drapes from across the waist coat into a small pocket. He wears a pair of small pince-nez on his nose but looks over them at the crowd that has assembled.

"So, uh, you here to get some pelts, too, eh? Suppose we work together? Then try not to kill each other on the way back? Money's short all around, and a job's a job."

[crimson77]

"Aye, this is the place where the partchment originated. I heard that you might be looking for work." The gnome sits down in a chair, "There is one more coming but he might be a bit late. You have any questions?"

[Wildboy]

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{table] Seth Blackmourn | Human| Necro Sorcerer| LVL 3 | CN |MED
hp: 9/9 | Init +3 | Spd 30 | AC/T/FF | 10/10/10 | Monks Outfit modified
Melee Atk |+0 | N/A | Ranged Atk |+0 Daggers | dmg: 1d4
SV | Fort +2 | Ref +1 | Wil +4||
STR 10 | DEX 16 | CON 14 | INT 13 | WIS 8 | CHA 12
[/table]

Spells
{table]Level 0 | Level 1
6 | 6
Detect Magic | Ray of Enfeeblement
Read Magic | Identify
Disrupt Undead | Chill Touch
Touch of Fatigue |
Prestidigitation |
[/table]

Looking from the keeper to the halfling and then back again. "I am Seth Blackmourn, you parchment said I will be paid to deliver goods. It did not mention others. How many others are we to expect?" Seth asks as he looks to the halfling. "And is escorting your son part of the delivery?" Seth pulls out a dead mouse from his pocket and feeds his GranShaw with it.

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{table]Concentration|1d20+7|Knowledge Arcana|1d20+8
Spellcraft|1d20+8|Use Magic Device|1d20+3
Bluff|1d20+8||
[/table]

GranShaw(Owl)
Size/Type: Tiny Animal
Hit Dice: 3d8 (12 hp)
Initiative: +3
Speed: 10 ft. (2 squares), fly 40 ft. (average)
Armor Class: 17 (+2 size, +3 Dex, +2 natural), touch 15, flat-footed 14 1
Base Attack/Grapple: +0/-11
Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Full Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Space/Reach: 2½ ft./0 ft.
Special Attacks: —
Special Qualities: Low-light vision
Saves: Fort +2, Ref +5, Will +2
Abilities: Str 4, Dex 17, Con 10, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 4
Skills: Listen +14, Move Silently +17, Spot +6*
Feats: Alertness, Weapon FinesseB
Environment: Temperate forests
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: ¼ ¼
Alignment: Always neutral
Advancement: 2 HD (Small)
Level Adjustment: —

[oliana0]

Franklin

"WOOF" A loud deep sound emminates from the doorway. Standing there is a large fluffy dog looking at Seth.

"Ah, Olin, leave him be. He's just a youngin' himself, probably barely in his tweens. He obviously cannot even read. Here, let me help you out." Franklin produces his copy of the parchment and points to the middle section.

Speaking slowly so the youth can follow along, "...'Join a small expedition' is as clear as day that there were to be others. Did the person that read this to you not tell you that part?"

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Apparently I keep forgetting to make AC for my Druids. Which is a shame because they are free.
Olin the riding dog.

[Wildboy]

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{table] Seth Blackmourn | Human| Necro Sorcerer| LVL 3 | CN |MED
hp: 9/9 | Init +3 | Spd 30 | AC/T/FF | 10/10/10 | Monks Outfit modified
Melee Atk |+0 | N/A | Ranged Atk |+0 Daggers | dmg: 1d4
SV | Fort +2 | Ref +1 | Wil +4||
STR 10 | DEX 16 | CON 14 | INT 13 | WIS 8 | CHA 12
[/table]

Spells
{table]Level 0 | Level 1
6 | 6
Detect Magic | Ray of Enfeeblement
Read Magic | Identify
Disrupt Undead | Chill Touch
Touch of Fatigue |
Prestidigitation |
[/table]

Seth leans in close, his understanding of personal space seems lacking as he places his face close to Franklin's. No maliciousness can be sensed from him more sense that he has dealt with few living beings. The owl seems content with chomping on the dead mouse. "Ah, a hin. I have never actually met someone of your kind. There are not any in the arenas." His scent fills your nostrils, it consists of jasmine and lilac. A scent you have associated with morticians or people dealing with the dead. He stands looking down to you. I can read quite well my short companion. An expedition usually consists of escorting manual labor such as carriage riders and their contents to their destination. You do not seem to fit that description. He turns to the gnome. "I accept your terms and will join the party you have formed.

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{table]Concentration|1d20+7|Knowledge Arcana|1d20+8
Spellcraft|1d20+8|Use Magic Device|1d20+3
Bluff|1d20+8||
[/table]

GranShaw(Owl)
Size/Type: Tiny Animal
Hit Dice: 3d8 (12 hp)
Initiative: +3
Speed: 10 ft. (2 squares), fly 40 ft. (average)
Armor Class: 17 (+2 size, +3 Dex, +2 natural), touch 15, flat-footed 14 1
Base Attack/Grapple: +0/-11
Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Full Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Space/Reach: 2½ ft./0 ft.
Special Attacks: —
Special Qualities: Low-light vision
Saves: Fort +2, Ref +5, Will +2
Abilities: Str 4, Dex 17, Con 10, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 4
Skills: Listen +14, Move Silently +17, Spot +6*
Feats: Alertness, Weapon FinesseB
Environment: Temperate forests
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: ¼ ¼
Alignment: Always neutral
Advancement: 2 HD (Small)
Level Adjustment: —

[oliana0]

Franklin

Franklin chews on his unlit cigar and turns to the gnome. "My question for you, is, what's in the crates?"

[crimson77]

The gnome turns his head quickly to franklin as he hears the dog bark, then he replies to his question, "Various goods, pots, pans, winter clothing, flour, oats, that type of thing. My store in Bigbear has been running low on some supplies so I wish to keep their shelves stocked full of items for in the winter supplies can run short. I would appreciate it if you stayed out of the contents of the crates" You can see crude wax seals on each side of the box.

If you inspect the seals

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The box lid seems to be sealed with black candle wax. In middle of each side where the lid connects to the box there is a blob of wax with a large x pressed into the wax. The xs are not uniformed and look to be crudely made.

[Ayrynthyn]

… the tell tale sounds of horse and hoof drift in from just outside the warehouse. In to view comes a magnificent, if a bit aging, black Andalusia mare. Her rider, a mere boy who’s seen the 7th layer of the abyss if he’s seen his 20th birthday. His fine fur trimmed cloak seems a bit much at this time and in this weather. Garbed in splint mail which shows signs wear yet seems in impeccable repair the boy springs from the saddle as the mare begins prancing in place. Striding towards the assembled group, hand and a half sword strapped to his back, he tucks his helm under his left arm, takes a silver whistle which dangles around his neck and gives it a blow… HIGHlow quick quick chip. From behind him a donkey comes to stand beside the mare and just outside the door. Strapped to the beast are the implements of war… several lances, a shield with a faded crest emblazoned upon it, a spare sword, as well as several large bags. Without a look back he walks up to the merchant. “Good day to you Amier. I hope you can forgive me for my tardiness. Cassius, you know… the candle makers son… seems he got into a bit of a tussle with some ruffians. You know the boy couldn’t fight his way out of a lambs pen, but had I not intervened, I do believe he would have killed them all. Kept muttering something about “pennys on her”, but Raam take me if I have any idea what that means.” Looking around he takes note of the assembled group. “ah… again, I ask forgiveness. How rude of me.” And with a slight bow and a polite nod. “You must be the ensemble that Amiel mentioned . It seems that we have only just met, and yet I have already slighted you all twice. Once with my tardiness, and once with my rudeness. I beg of thee, hold it not against me. I am Ryesean Dor, at your command. May my blood be spilled in your stead. May my shield defend you, my lance pierce our enemies, my honor hold us true, and my blade protect us all”

[crimson77]

The gnomes eyes get big and a large smile erupts on his face as he sees the cavalier. "Good day to you Sir Ryesean. I am so thankful that you are willing to escort my goods on your way north. We were just working out the final details and answering any last questions. I would assume the group would head out in the morning. You are welcome to stay the night in the warehouse or use some of the travel expense for an inn. If there be no other questions, I will meet you back here in the morn to make sure you get off to a good start. Bigbear is almost directly north, but hopefully you will not get lost, but if you do, at least you have Franklin to help you find your way back."

[Wildboy]

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{table] Seth Blackmourn | Human| Necro Sorcerer| LVL 3 | CN |MED
hp: 9/9 | Init +3 | Spd 30 | AC/T/FF | 10/10/10 | Monks Outfit modified
Melee Atk |+0 | N/A | Ranged Atk |+0 Daggers | dmg: 1d4
SV | Fort +2 | Ref +1 | Wil +4||
STR 10 | DEX 16 | CON 14 | INT 13 | WIS 8 | CHA 12
[/table]

Spells
{table]Level 0 | Level 1
6 | 6
Detect Magic | Ray of Enfeeblement
Read Magic | Identify
Disrupt Undead | Chill Touch
Touch of Fatigue |
Prestidigitation |
[/table]

Looking to GrenShaw Seth speaks to the owl as he scratches under its beak. "Hunt my friend." Seth gives a quick shrug of his shoulder and the owl takes to the air. GrenShaw circles the warehouse and lands on a rafter. His keen eyes catching a flicker of movement by a few crates to the south of the warehouse. The owl spreads his wings and drops from the rafter. In a flash he lands onto something as a small squeal and flapping of feathers echo across in the building.

Seth looks about and spots a pile of burlap sacks. Getting comfortable on them he looks to the group. "Then till the morrow may deaths sweet whisper not catch your ears while you sleep." He lays on his back and gazes to the roof of the warehouse waiting for sleep to claim him.

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{table]Concentration|1d20+7|Knowledge Arcana|1d20+8
Spellcraft|1d20+8|Use Magic Device|1d20+3
Bluff|1d20+8||
[/table]

GranShaw(Owl)
Size/Type: Tiny Animal
Hit Dice: 3d8 (12 hp)
Initiative: +3
Speed: 10 ft. (2 squares), fly 40 ft. (average)
Armor Class: 17 (+2 size, +3 Dex, +2 natural), touch 15, flat-footed 14 1
Base Attack/Grapple: +0/-11
Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Full Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Space/Reach: 2½ ft./0 ft.
Special Attacks: —
Special Qualities: Low-light vision
Saves: Fort +2, Ref +5, Will +2
Abilities: Str 4, Dex 17, Con 10, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 4
Skills: Listen +14, Move Silently +17, Spot +6*
Feats: Alertness, Weapon FinesseB
Environment: Temperate forests
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: ¼ ¼
Alignment: Always neutral
Advancement: 2 HD (Small)
Level Adjustment: —

[crimson77]

MAP

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Finding a suitable spot to sleep in the warehouse is not easy and after a few hours of tossing and turning while listening to the movement of rats you fall into a deep sleep. *BANG* You awaken with a startle, forgetting where you are you search around for your weapons before the light of a oil lamp catches your eye. The intruder is Amier bringing the smell of fresh ham, eggs, and bread. "I thought you might like a little food to warm you up before your journey." The food tastes wonderful and soon it is all gone. Before you feel ready the cart and donkey is ready to go and the city gates are before you.

Outside the city you can see formations of soldiers drilling in the early morning snow. You hear the loud clash of metal on metal as they practice. The soldiers do not even seem to notice you as you leave the city.

A cool fog hangs before you as you leave behind the city. Dawn is just breaking along the horizon and you start to feel the warmth of the sun. Much of the snow has been cleared on the path north from small travelers coming to and from. As the day warms the path turns from snow and dirt to slush and mud. You trek on, you remember the gnome telling you that the Whispering Willows Inn is one days march north.

The day passes uneventfully, you see nothing for most of the day except for small hills covered with snow and some trees scattered throughout the plains. The rations given to you by Amier are stale and you quickly loose interest in a matter of a few bites and start to wonder how long this journey really is going to be.

As night starts to descend upon you, you see the outline of the Whispering Willows Inn and its windows lit up with candles. It looks warm and inviting.

[Wildboy]

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{table] Seth Blackmourn | Human| Necro Sorcerer| LVL 3 | CN |MED
hp: 9/9 | Init +3 | Spd 30 | AC/T/FF | 10/10/10 | Monks Outfit modified
Melee Atk |+0 | N/A | Ranged Atk |+0 Daggers | dmg: 1d4
SV | Fort +2 | Ref +1 | Wil +4||
STR 10 | DEX 16 | CON 14 | INT 13 | WIS 8 | CHA 12
[/table]

Spells
{table]Level 0 | Level 1
6 | 6
Detect Magic | Ray of Enfeeblement
Read Magic | Identify
Disrupt Undead | Chill Touch
Touch of Fatigue |
Prestidigitation |
[/table]

After waking, Seth stretches and cracks the poor sleep out of his back. He looks at the plates of food being brought to the party and frowns behind his mask. Moving to Ameir he takes a plateful of food and nods his thanks. Looking about the group his eyes contain a look of shame or embarassment, you cannot tell which. Seth moves a good distance away from the group and sits on a set of crates with his back to the group. He then pulls out a darkened sheet and covers himself with it. Quickly he devours his food replaces his mask and removes the sheet putting it away. Holding out his arm as GrenShaw lands to perch on his left shoulder and departs with the rest of the ensemble.

He travels with the party in awkward silence. Normally not being the first to speak, compelled by boredom and the sight of the inn, he looks to the group. "Is this the inn that Amier spoke of?

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{table]Concentration|1d20+7|Knowledge Arcana|1d20+8
Spellcraft|1d20+8|Use Magic Device|1d20+3
Bluff|1d20+8||
[/table]

GranShaw(Owl)
Size/Type: Tiny Animal
Hit Dice: 3d8 (12 hp)
Initiative: +3
Speed: 10 ft. (2 squares), fly 40 ft. (average)
Armor Class: 17 (+2 size, +3 Dex, +2 natural), touch 15, flat-footed 14 1
Base Attack/Grapple: +0/-11
Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Full Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Space/Reach: 2½ ft./0 ft.
Special Attacks: —
Special Qualities: Low-light vision
Saves: Fort +2, Ref +5, Will +2
Abilities: Str 4, Dex 17, Con 10, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 4
Skills: Listen +14, Move Silently +17, Spot +6*
Feats: Alertness, Weapon FinesseB
Environment: Temperate forests
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: ¼ ¼
Alignment: Always neutral
Advancement: 2 HD (Small)
Level Adjustment: —

[crimson77]

You feel the cold wind brush against your face, as you shiver in your boots, as the last wisps of sunlight vanish behind the mountains. The whole day has been filled with an awkward silence during the traveling, here you are alone in on the windy plains among the company of strangers.

[Ayrynthyn]

Ryesean Dor

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{table] Ryesean Dor| Human| Cavilier| LVL 3 | LG |size
hp: 27/27 | | 20| AC/T/FF | 18/10/18| Splint & H Shield
Melee Atk |+0 | dmg | Ranged Atk |+0 Daggers | dmg:
SV | Fort +# | Ref +# | Wil +#||
STR 15 | DEX 10 | CON 14 | INT 12 | WIS 8 | CHA 13
Skills|Spot -1|Listen -1|extra|extra|extra
[/table]

Temperance (Light Warhorse)

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{table] Name| race| class| LVL 3 | LG |size
hp: #/# | | Spd | AC/T/FF | 10/10/10 | armor
Melee Atk |+0 | dmg | Ranged Atk |+0 Daggers | dmg:
SV | Fort +# | Ref +# | Wil +#||
STR # | DEX # | CON # | INT # | WIS # | CHA #
Skills|Spot +#|Listen+#|extra|extra|extra
[/table]

Charity (PAck Mule)

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{table] Name| race| class| LVL 3 | LG |size
hp: #/# | | Spd | AC/T/FF | 10/10/10 | armor
Melee Atk |+0 | dmg | Ranged Atk |+0 Daggers | dmg:
SV | Fort +# | Ref +# | Wil +#||
STR # | DEX # | CON # | INT # | WIS # | CHA #
Skills|Spot +#|Listen+#|extra|extra|extra
[/table]

Ryesean dismounts, and carries his lance over to Charity his trust pack beast. "I love the road. I can get lost in my thoughts for hours." Quickly he secures his lance to the harness affiixed to the mule, and goes about removing the entire harness. "If you'd like, i can tend to the animals. You should all get inside. I fear that this may be the last peaceful rest we can get for a while. Perhaps we can get to know each other a bit more over a..." sniffing the air Ryesean grins from ear to ear "... over a hot bowl of stew. My treat of course. " looking down, the horsemen continues his task.

[crimson77]

MAP

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As you open the door to the Inn your face is greeted by a warm dim light and the crackle of a fire. A plump barmaid smiles as you enter and you spot an open table. Several men are seated at various tables in the establishment. You can smell some sort of hot stew cooking in the background. Ryesean enters after securing the horses into a nearby stable. The plump barmaid comes over to take your order, "We have the house special, stew, steak, and bread for one gold, ale is one silver per mug, wine is one gold per pitcher, a stay here tonight is one gold per person, and a bath is 1 sliver for fresh water and 1 copper for used. What will it be?" She barks in a frank but sweet manner as she waits patiently for your reply. Through the door way to the north you can see several beds filling their common room, this place only seems to have a common room without any individual rooms.

[Wildboy]

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{table] Seth Blackmourn | Human| Necro Sorcerer| LVL 3 | CN |MED
hp: 9/9 | Init +3 | Spd 30 | AC/T/FF | 10/10/10 | Monks Outfit modified
Melee Atk |+0 | N/A | Ranged Atk |+0 Daggers | dmg: 1d4
SV | Fort +2 | Ref +1 | Wil +4||
STR 10 | DEX 16 | CON 14 | INT 13 | WIS 8 | CHA 12
[/table]

Spells
{table]Level 0 | Level 1
6 | 6
Detect Magic | Ray of Enfeeblement
Read Magic | Identify
Disrupt Undead | Chill Touch
Touch of Fatigue |
Prestidigitation |
[/table]

Seth rubs his cheek over his mask and looks to the barmaid. "I will have raw steak." Again his voice is soft as a whisper yet as audible as if he were standing over your shoulder. Seth looks about the room at the other patrons and they layout of the tavern.

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{table]Concentration|1d20+7|Knowledge Arcana|1d20+8
Spellcraft|1d20+8|Use Magic Device|1d20+3
Bluff|1d20+8||
[/table]

GranShaw(Owl)
Size/Type: Tiny Animal
Hit Dice: 3d8 (12 hp)
Initiative: +3
Speed: 10 ft. (2 squares), fly 40 ft. (average)
Armor Class: 17 (+2 size, +3 Dex, +2 natural), touch 15, flat-footed 14 1
Base Attack/Grapple: +0/-11
Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Full Attack: Talons +5 melee (1d4-3)
Space/Reach: 2½ ft./0 ft.
Special Attacks: —
Special Qualities: Low-light vision
Saves: Fort +2, Ref +5, Will +2
Abilities: Str 4, Dex 17, Con 10, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 4
Skills: Listen +14, Move Silently +17, Spot +6*
Feats: Alertness, Weapon FinesseB
Environment: Temperate forests
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: ¼ ¼
Alignment: Always neutral
Advancement: 2 HD (Small)
Level Adjustment: —

[crimson77]

The barmaid snickers as only a middle-aged plump woman can, "Would you be wanting me to defrost that first or you be wanting to eat it frozen? Should i bring you a mug of horseblood too?" Her face sobers as she realizes that Seth is not joking and turns to the rest of the group, "What about the rest of you? What will it be?"

You can over hear the conversation at the table across from you, they are two hunters talking about the shortage of game in the region. At the other table, a solitary man sits along spooning stew into his cloaked head. You get the feeling that he is watching your table, or rather one member of your group.

[oliana0]

Franklin

Franklin shrugs at the horseman's offer to tend to the animals. he dismounts from the dog. "Eh, sure." Franklin nods at him and heads inside to the warmth of the inn; Olin follows closely behind into the inn.

Franklin moves to the table and peering at it and the chairs, obviously meant for human-sized individuals only. He shrugs and climbs up the chair, standing at the table on a chair is bit awkward, but less silly-looking than sitting in the chair at the table, looking across at his companions laps.

"My dear fine lady, I'll be having the delicious special, and if my companion does not want his stew, I'll take it." Franklin winks at the barmaid. "And a mug of ale, and one of those beds. Is the bath water hot?"