The Horror! The Horror!

[Schylerwalker]

Act the First: The Stormclouds Gather
Scene 1: The Heroes Assemble

An icy wind gusted over the rooftops of the proud city of Modain, lifting the banners on the turrets of its walls. They rose almost as in protest; most of them were crusted over with frost. The towers of the castle proper, however, flapped bravely. It was common knowledge that they were all enchanted, so that their waving majesty could not be dispelled. The crossed golden swords, on quartered green and silver, flapped bravely in the chilling breeze.

A thick layer of snow covered the entire town, and the countryside for miles around. The cold white blanket positively carpeted the Thyren Woods to the north, causing them to look like a cloud that had fallen from the heavens and crash-landed in Imberwyn. Plowboats and wizards worked daily to keep the river from freezing over; it was the lifeblood of the city, and if trading boats could not work their way down it, trade would stop. Every now and then, the great stone and wood bridge would lift with a creaking of gears and a rattle of frost-coated chains.

While it was not snowing yet, clouds covered the sky, with the promise of even worse weather to come. For it was Midwinter Eve, the holiday where lesser nobles reinstated their loyalty to the greater nobles, and the greater nobles renewed their vows to the king. Most commoners, however, simply referred to it as Deepwinter Day; a month and a half of winter had passed, and another month and a half was still to come.

Few people, but for guardsmen, walked the streets. They were especially thick in the Southern District, known for the taverns that clung like barnacles to the riverside, its brothels, and rambunctious natives. However, there wasn't much trouble down there today; it was just too damn cold. Children played in the streets in the Northern and Western districts; they were the commercial and living districts of the city, full of the lower and middle classes. The little ones pelted eachother with snowballs, built forts and snowmen, and lay down right in the streets (Much to the chagrin of passersby) to make snow angels.

The Eastern District, however, was much quieter. It was the upper class district of the city, with its stone houses with tile roofs, its fancy stores and restaurants, and the impressive bulk of Modain Castle towering airily above it all. Everyone knew that the best inns, taverns, and boarding houses were there...but they were also by far the most expensive.

Hopeful merchants, heavily padded and wrapped in many layers, huddled miserably under tents and in stalls in the main square, located between all four districts. Only a few were out, however; a few muttered that Ystes himself would rather put on some damn mittens than let his fingers fall off from the chill.

A few of those merchants listened sympathetically to a trio of their friends, middle-aged silk merchants. Apparently, they'd been waylaid on the road by a highwayman known as the Gorgon; he possessed the power to freeze his prey in place with his very stare, and he was a skilled swordsman besides. He'd been terrorizing lone merchants and small caravans for weeks now, only letting the merchants themselves survive; he slaughtered drovers and guards, dismantled wagons, and stole all the goods, letting the terrified merchants scurry back to town.

"Someone needs to take care of that sorry bastard," muttered one of the recently robbed silk-merchants, rubbing his gloved hands together furiously as he nodded at a posted of the Gorgon on a tavern wall; it proclaimed that there was a price on his head! One thousand gelts (Gold pieces) for the man's head, and two thousand for bringing him back alive. Countless merchants and travelers had scrawled on the bottom of the poster, telling those that might be interested some of the things that had been stolen from him, or where they'd been attacked. All agreed that he made his lair in the Tyren Forest, avoiding both ravening kobolds, green dragons, ogres, the many wild clans of humans and elves that lived there, and all the other dangers that were rumored to lair there.

It was Quinqel 14, in the month of Serihn. And a new page had been turned in the book of heroes.

[Levyathyn]

He stumbles out of the tavern, bartend shoving him out onto the ice. The man doesn't slip, and the bartender gets a look of disappointment on his face. "And stay out!" He says, while retreating from the cold back into his establishment. If it could be called that. The place is such a dive the birds have a hard time leaving. Garret, angry and only a little drunk, brushed his armor off. Gazing upwards in a stupor, he sighs at the sky, wishing there were snow. The harder a time he had making it to safety the better the chance he'd die out here.

He trudges down the streets in the South district's seedier parts, grip tightening on his Tennuvan amulet, praying to the Lady to send him a mugger or thief to fight. After a while, he gives up hope. His armor, old and made up of interlocking sales, like a serpent, gives off light clanks and squeaks as he meanders down the road. His bastard sword, a gift from a dead father to a dying son, rests as always against his back. A wooden shield, proudly bearing the ancient emblem of Imberwyn, an eagle crested in red and yellow, rests on the scabbard as well. His motheaten gray cape also bears a forgotten symbol; The crest of an old noble family, a raven's head, black on a grey field. Where it meets his shoulders, a swatch of fur, mongrel-stock black and white, covers his neckline. His face is not that old, but it seems so, when one gazes into his eyes. A large scar lines through his left eye, though the eye itself seems untouhed. Iron grey has started to show in his hair and beard, though neither are long, in length or years. Soon, he spots the center of town, and marches on through the bitter cold.

[Snacs]

"This one Yes?Diola lle" Broken Imber floated gracefully on the air, despite, or perhaps due to the accent that hid behind it. A handful of copper pieces slid across the tiny stall's frozen and worn countertop, and in return a warm, though drab-colored scarf was passed over in return.

The grey material seemed pale and mottled, more stained by age than dye, like the slush that lined the poorer streets of the city as the lithe figure wrapped it snuggly beneath the hood of a fur-lined cloak, her green eyes light and merry.

From underneath it Meri smiled gratefully, nodding to the merchant in thanks before drifting in the wake of a small crowd of peasants who had braved the cold.

The elf was clad in well-trimmed, though well-worn clothes, stout boots crunching the trampled down snow quietly. A slender chain shirt clung tightly to her chest, the frigid metal covered by cloth and backed by a thin layer of leather, the long tunic belted simply at her waist, keeping ti silent as she moved. Her gloves were thin and the fingers of the right hand cut out, most likely due to the long, delicately carved bow strung across her back, a Quiver hanging off the back of her belt, its base gently thumping to one hip as she walked Astride either hip were two long, slender daggers in leather sheaths.

The elf stopped at an intrepid merchant's stall, another copper piece earning her a steaming cup of heated cider, giving a tiny shiver at the taste of alcohol lacing the sweet flavor. She sipped at it slowly, using it more to warm her hands than for drinking.

Her frail form fitted the overcast, snowbound landscape quite well, her pale clothing and skin only enhancing the brightness of her wide,green eyes and the long, pointed ears hiding beneath deep brown hair.

She strikes up a conversation with the cider-seller, seeming reluctant to leave the small patch of stalls which huddled to one part of the main square, despite the obvious effect the chill was having on her, wrapping her cloak closer around her lithe frame.

"Ringwe'Ta, very cold yes"She agreed with the merchant, before setting her now cold drink down and drifting down the length of stalls until she reached the end of a row, facing the South District, glancing at the sky, wondering when it would snow soon, her lithe frame portraying a slight Anxiety as the crowds began splitting off for home.

[Aneantir]

Confident, and pleasant, the man in the dress of a cleric strode down the streets of the Southern district of Modain. No particular goal in mind, aside from maybe finding some place welcoming and warm. He made it a point to keep a smile on his face all the while, and to remain in good spirits, despite the icy wind chilling him to the bone.

Never quite the trustworthy type, of people or surroundings, he kept his right hand near his morningstar that he kept on his belt. Not that it would do him much good, he barely had the strength to wield it, let alone defend himself against a potential adversary. But, he always reminded himself, he did not really need it. A lie here, a jest there, and he could easily get himself out of any situation he might find himself in.

As he walked, he began to notice just how heavy is shield and armor were, as they had begun to take their toll on him. He allowed his gaze to drift to the signs of nearby buildings, searching for an inn or tavern where he might find himself a time to rest.

[sazzer]

Laurinda sat in the tavern, nursing the same drink she'd had all evening. This was a bad time of year for her - even more so than usual. With the winter weather, a lot of people didn't leave their homes, and so pickings were thin. More so, with this apparant gang of thugs - she didn't really buy into the tales of his so-called powers, but instead believed that it was simply another gang of thugs preying on merchents and the merchents themselves were to embarassed about it - meant that people were even more wary than usual, and that there was less trade going on than usual even for this time of year.

Times weren't desperate yet, but if the weather stayed like this for much longer - as it was bound to do - and this Gorgon wasn't sorted out then it might get a bit tight before the winter was out.

[GhosTim15]

Yelker, laying in his bed still, was thinking about what he should do today. He was thinking of maybe using a spell to heat up a small part of the town (Burning hands or possibly orb of fire lesser) to make the people warm. Or he could just sit in a tavern and get a logger. He decided to help the people in the town square.

When he arrived there, he asked some people to gather around him. so he spontaneously set his hands aflame (Burning hands) and asked people to stand near him but to NOT touch his hands unless they wanted to get burned. While his hands were on fire, he saw a stall that was giving cold food and he decided to help the person there by providing some heat for his food to be warm and to give some relief to the townspeople.

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I cast burning hands once to help the people in the street warm up and to help the food service man heat up his food. (whether I used two uses or not is up to you Schyler)

[Schylerwalker]

A few of the common folk and merchants seemed apprehensive at the gnome showing off his arcane powers, but a few of the poorer men - like a couple freezing beggars - huddled close for the warmth...but not too close. The man with the cold meats was glad for the chance to help cooking his meats - with the wind, it was damn hard to cook anything. He even gave the gnome a piece of meat in a buttered roll as a sign of his gratitude.

All over the town, roosters began to give out half-hearted crows, huddling miserably underneath arches and gables for some degree of protection from the biting wind. The sun, pulled by the blazing horses of Gleiammin (Or so it was said) began to slowly creep over the horizon, banishing the clouds and bringing back some small measure of warmth. Over the next hour (Making it about 6 - 8 of the clock) began to drift outside again, and the city would gradually fill with its usual life. Bells of many tones and sizes began in inns everywhere, beckoning their patrons to wake up - those that didn't got no breakfast.

[Kalev]

Stengard

The chill always finds a way in.
Waking alone and close to freezing in the windowless storeroom, dawn's light picks out the edges of the door. Stengard picks himself up and brushes the dust and straw from his leather tunic. Hoists a heavy bag over one shoulder, and opens the door. He shakes a little as the cold hits his lungs, blinks in the crisp morning light, and enters the adjacent pub.
"Midwinter tidings to you landlord"
"and you Sten, it was good what you did last night, but I still want them out by full sun up; the room'll need cleaning"
"I'll get them now. Four breakfasts, and four hot drinks. Oh, and no ale. Not even if they ask for it"
Leaving his bag at the bar, Stengard climbs the stairs to a room he rented last night- but never slept in. Knocking loudly on the thin door, he thunders "Up and out everyone" and waits...
Duly, three bleary eyed, unshaven, ragged degenerates emerge and scowl at him. "Midwinter's day" he entones to each.

Once the hopeless washout's have eaten and been pressed to move on by the sceptical landlord, he asks Sten "why?"

"Because I can" is the solemn reply.

Settling the bill with a gold piece, he leaves the pub.
It's midwinters day, and the Paladin walks towards the town square. If ever people needed humanity and warmth it is today.

Standing in front of a 'Wanted' Poster, Stengard wonders if any other stout citizens of good heart will hear the call....

[Aneantir]

With dawn having overtaken him, Malik Shaad quickly rethought his position. Since a new day was upon him, he decided it best to head for the town square, to perhaps find some form of work. Besides, he had overheard some random commoners talking about a magician using magical flames to warm people, as well as to assist some local vendors in cooking their goods.

Upon arriving in the square, he noted that there were a group of beggars and peasants huddling around something, but he couldn't quite see who or what it was. Aside from that, the only other thing he noticed was a rather sturdy looking man staring intently at a sign on a post. Malik concluded that it could be a most interesting read, if it had captured this gentleman's attention so completely, so he strode up next to him so that he could get a better look at it for himself.

[Schylerwalker]

The poster displayed a rather realistic looking drawing of a cruel, thin-faced man with high cheekbones, dark, sunken eyes, and cropped black hair. The poster said he was known only as The Gorgon, and he was wanted for highway robbery, theft, and murder. The price for his head was two thousand gelts, a substantial sum, for the man who brought him alive. For just that head however, he was worth a thousand - still a moderate fee.

Below the picture, charges, and reward offer, is a small list of names and grievances. Many more names would be on the list, if several of those attacked weren't so worried about the fearsome brigand.
-Kelna Yenoh, purveyor of exotic herbs and spices. All of my guards were killed, one of them my cousin! If you return my cousins' dragonskin gloves, I will gladly reward you. The return of my goods, if at all possible, would also be greatly appreciated.
-Mella Briaront, gem seller and enchanter. I'll give a free bloody gem, hell, even with an enchantment on it, to those who bring this bastard to justice and give me my jewels back!
-Indris Masolin, leatherworker. That son of a whore stole my horse and laughed the entire time! If an adventurer would be so brave as to rescue that noble steed from him, I'll gladly gift the hero and all his friends with finely crafted leather goods.
-Dolg Ironbelly, bladesmith. I want my tools back. While the rest of this lot will give ya some kinda paltry reward, I'LL give a sword of the highest quality for my prized tools to be returned to me. And shove your old sword up his bunghole while you're at it.
-Marn, farmer. That demonspawned murderer has gone too far now. He attacked me and my sons, fine, hearty young lads that they are, and carried away the boys into the forest! He left me with two fingers less when I tried to stop him. I think he plans to sell them to the kobolds as slaves! Or worse, food! Please bring my boys back to me!!

[Aneantir]

He read the wanted sign slowly, checking it over a few times to make sure that he understood it correctly. He looked to the man next to him, a strong looking gentleman, wearing armor and weapons instead of traditional peasant garb.

Being fairly low on cash, he decided that this could be a smart investment of his time, so he decided to strike up a conversation with the man next to him, and perhaps gain a helping hand, or sword, with this task.

"A lone scoundrel causing so much trouble. Tsk tsk." he said, after deciding his course of action. "You know, someone should really put a stop to this. The economy is being stretched too thin, foods beginning to run low, and with no way to get more supplies many of this fair town may not make it through the night. What say you to this, friend?"

[Kalev]

Stengard

Noting the arrival of the young man beside him, Stengard turns slightly and gives him a perfunctory glance of agknowledgement, saying quietly "A legecy of broken lives and empty mouths, spread by this Gorgon. I would see it end. By Ystes will, I will do all that human hands can do." then fully facing his new aquaintance Sten asks "are you a man of religion? I thought I recognised another- well met. I am Stengard Wrightmoore. Holy soldier."

[sazzer]

Laurinda

After yet another night of no marks, and no luck, Laurinda was really starting to wish for someone to actually do something about this Gorgon character. Having woken up early, she was out seeing if the morning could bring more luck and still failing to get anywhere.

This was when she came across what seemed to be the biggest crowd she could remember actually reading and contemplating the wanted poster for the thug. "Maybe with a bit of a prod, something can finally be done about this", she thought.

"Somebody really needs to do something about this thug", she says to the others. "I'd even offer to help if there were others willing to as well..."

[Snacs]

The slender Elf soon found herself drawn to the small knot of people forming about one of the Wanted sign, her frail frame slipping easily between the more heavy-footed humans around her.

"Hiraetha", She murmured in apology as she slid underneath the larger Man's right arm, her hood falling back, revealing delicately pointed ears amid her brown hair. She peered upwards into the wanted poster, puzzling over the rather crude scrawl of Imber beneath the more official information.

Her slender fingers stroked over the hilt of one of her daggers, mulling over the information. As she did she glanced sidelong at the two humans, turning to lean into their conversation as politely as possible.

"Hunt Gorgon yes? Cuamin linduva yassen megrille. Work together?"She chirped softly, smiling up at the two humans helpfully as she poked a finger with deadly precision at the face on the wanted poster. While the elf had enough gold to stay alive during the cold months, the extra gold would help, and the warming thought of returning sons to their Mother was particularly pleasing.

[sorry for lack of posts, powers been going out the last day or two due to storms]

[Aneantir]

"Am I a man of religion? Well, yes, to a degree, but I'll explain that at another time, perhaps at the tavern after we vanquish this despicable cur." He says to Stengard. After turning to address the entire group, "My name is Malik Shaad, and I'd be delighted to offer my services in dealing with this fiend of a man."

[Levyathyn]

Garret

Jarred awake by the light filtering in through the slats in the wall, Garret immediately regrets his drinking last night. He stands up, examine his surroundings. The stable is bare and clean, all good horsemen deciding months ago to stay at places with much better in the way of insulation. Garret shambles to his armor on unsteady feet, flinching at the touch of the cold metal. He dons it anyway, used to the cold and proud of the image. Lastly, he clasps the fur shoulders to his cape in front of his neck. He lifts his sword from it's resting plce by his side whence he slept, and reverantly hangs the sheath on his back. His small dagger remains at his waist. He exits the pen, his hand hovering over his sensitive eyes. Suddenly remembering a bit more of last night, Garret ponders the one called Gorgon. He remembers meandering into the center of town, passing only a single person on his way there. He recalls that she was a beautiful lady, but beyond that, he can only remember the face on the poster. Limbering his sword muscles up, he trudges off towards the gathering he can see in the square.

When he gets there, he sees, to his surprise, a gathering of individuals around the Gorgon's posted bounty. He remains passive, a thought passing through his mind. Is it worth the honor to try and do this alone? Or would victory only be possible through combined efforts? after a moment, he recognizes the elf lady from the night before, despite only seeing her briefly. One of the other gentleman appears to be a cleric, and Garret decides to throw in his gelts to the pot. He approches the group quietly gathered in front of the sign. "I will lend my blade to end the tyranny of this man. I fear him not, despite his clever nickname. I will meet him in the field of battle and yet remain standing to cleave his head off of his shoulders." Garret pronounces in front of the group. His part said, he begins conversing with the merchants around, to see if he can get an ale. He doesn't spare the post a second glance; Garret's unconcerned with monetary value.

[Schylerwalker]

A fierce wind suddenly blew into the town, causing awnings to stretch and bright flags to snap and wave around, proudly displaying their insignias. Clouds were slowly pushed away by the gust, allowing the sun to filter more strongly through the thick greyness. Before the warmth could suddenly disappear, people began to flood out of their houses, shooing away disappointed children at play and beginning to go about their business.

The merchants in the town center quickly noticed the hardy bunch of men and women gathering around the poster, watching them interestedly. Garret could easily have a tankard of ale for a copper piece or two, many of the men suddenly distracted by both the sudden flurry of activity, and the great interest in the wanted poster by such a hardy looking assortment of individuals.

[GhosTim15]

After his spell wore off, Yelker saw a group of strong people near the wanted poster of the Gorgon. He decides to walk over and see what's up. " Hello there, my name is Yelker, what's yours? He says as he gets into the conversation waiting politely for someone to finish talking to avoid interrupting someone.

Yelker just stands there quietly, standing in the middle of the crowd to warm himself up.

[Kalev]

Stengard

Suprised by the sudden arrival of an elf out of his armpit, the sturdy Paladin lets her through.
"fair eldar, were my ears better I would have heard you" then moments later after pieceing together her broken imber "You would take part in this hunt? Yes the kidnap of the two lads weighs my heart also. For these outrages alone; I would tear his body from his head and hoist them to promenance as a warning to others."

He nods to Laurinda on her arrival and words of cohesion. "We could achieve much more together, or at least; faster. What skills do bring? I myself can offer moral resolve, a nose for evildoers and a stout spear"

Sten looks warmly to Garret as he approaches and speaks, but then his eyes narrow to stark disapproval as he attempts to find an ale, muttering quite audibly in his direction "at THIS time of the morning? Before the sun is yet over your head? Refrain from your crutch and be free of its intoxication"
Finally Sten nods to Yelker as the little gnome arrives in the middle of everyone.

[sazzer]

Laurinda

Realising that one such as herself would probably not go down to well with the paladin, she replied with "I myself am a..., a scout. My skills are towards finding out things without being caught out myself. I am talented in getting places without being seen or heard and then learning what needs to be learnt."

[Levyathyn]

Garret

Garret eyes the man calmly as he sips on his moderate ale. "No crutch, my companion. I find the cold unbearable in these long months, and an ale in the morning keeps my blood warm in the evening." He takes a final draw on the smokey liquid and hands the remainder to one of the beggars, a grim smile on his face. "Drink up, old one. You need it more than I. Battle calls me finally." Garret says quietly, hoping the deed goes unnoticed. The other man's rebuke goes unnoticed, however, as the wind lashes Garret's face. He dimly raises his eyes to the sun, feeling it's warmth on his face again.

He hears the one called Yelker, and looks around to see him. Raising an eyebrow at the forwardness of the tiny man, Garret intorduces himself. "I'm Garret. If you're after this Gorgon, then I salute you as a brother."

Moments later, Garret smiles at Laurinda, understanding her hesitation in the presene of the stern man. "You as well, good lady. I'm sure you will be invaluable to us." His voice is strong, and not as cracked as it was a few months ago. Garret figures the travel has done him well, and he yawns luxuriously in the chill air.

[Snacs]

The elf listened solemnly to the exchange, shrugging a bit at the Paladins remark. She would never understand what drove these Edan, but a slow, tiny smile crept up on to her lips as she watched the two males bicker. The two seemed somewhat similar for some reason, though she could not place it so simply as the same hair nor eyes. She hoped they would get along well despite their mutters.

She gave a small bow to the small Gnome, as well as the rest of the group.
"Meri, Mae govannen" She said politely, and, seeing as their individual talents were being discussed, she patted the heavy quiver at her belt, and pantomimed drawing and nocking an arrow.

"Cuamin linduva yassen megrille" She repeated calmly. "Good with Bow." She nodded in appreciation to the large human warriors.
"Help hunt Gorgon." She restated, her accent alluring even as it mangled the Imber that slipped from her lips.

[OOC][by the way, if anyone's character knows Elven/wants to know what she's saying(or the Dm for that matter!), send me a private message for translations:P]

[Schylerwalker]

Everyone make Spot checks.

(1d20+16)[31]

[Schylerwalker]

...Nevermind.

[Aneantir]

"And I bring my skills as a negotiator and my magical healing prowess. " He bows to the rest of the group slowly, "It would be an honor to join forces with all of you, and dispel this evil from these lands"

(1d20+3)[15] = Spot Check

[Levyathyn]

Spoiler

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Just in case.
(1d20+2)[19]

[Snacs]

EDIT:trying it again?]]

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[roll]1d20[/roll]

[Schylerwalker]

[ roll ] 1d20 [ /roll ]
Without the spaces.

[GhosTim15]

"Seeing as how everyone is done talking" Yelker says politely, "What I can offer the group is blowing things up, I know it sounds stupid, but I will help you ALOT" He says in a bold tone. he stands there quietly.

Spoiler

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(1d20-1)[19]

OUT OF CHARACTER

woohoo!!! I got a Natural 20!!!!!

[Schylerwalker]

Yelker and Garett both feel the hairs on the backs of their necks tingle. However, if either of them happen to look around, they see nothing out of the ordinary. The feeling that they are all being watched does not fade away.