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Thread: Long Night [IC]

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    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Long Night [IC]

    It was no secret; things like that had a way of getting out, no matter how little people talked about it. Behind locked door, shuttered windows and closed minds people knew: something was wrong. And, of course, then they cane, Every town or hamlet in the borderlands had at least one of them: apprentices who thought they could whole a sword better then a hammer, hunters who thought shooting at people would be more profitable than shooting game, young ladies who thought perhaps their fingers were more deft with a set of picks than a loom and so on.
    It could never have been said to be a flood of these would be adventurers. They came for a few days, some wearing ancient and decaying armor, carrying rusted old swords someone's gaffer had brought back from some war somewhere. They would poke about for a while, and then a few small items of value would go missing, or they'd start a fight in the steet with 'Prentice Tom and get a few teeth knocked out, and then they'd go home.

    In short, nothing happened. Nothing came of it.
    And then, as they say, the other shoe dropped. They found Old Sam Egan, the priest. Or rather they found parts of him. Everywhere.

    As you approach Egan's rest from any side the first thing you notice is the fact the it is built on a hill. It is sunset and someone has lit a beacon of some kind in one of the taller towers of the manor house. There is only one gate leading into Egan's Rest and as you follow the beaten dirt track through the pines you can see signs of camps and a hasty departure.

    One of the great iron-bound gates is shut for the evening, and the other is being closed. As you hurry to the gates you hear the click and whiz of a crossbow being shot. Sure enough, there is a wooden practice bolt lodged, quivering, in the ground in front of you.

    "Hold! Let's see your faces!" cries someone from atop the walls. The door is now closed, and the only light comes from a shuttered lantern and the light of the dying sunset in the forest behind you.

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    see the ooc thread for more details.
    I'd like spot and listen checks from all of you. If I've forgotten anything that might be pertinent, remind me. We'll roll in spoilers here to save the trouble. Please try not to use outside rollers, it makes my life easier.
    Last edited by Aergoth; 2008-11-24 at 11:59 AM.
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    Default Re: Long Night [IC]

    ((What's the weather like? Simple night? Or is it raining?))

    Sergeant Tann tilts his helmet back slightly and stares at the crossbow bolt, then up at Egan's Rest. Jumpy guard meets a traveler late at night, that's how accidents happen, The man thinks sourly to himself. Mistake number one, kid, you fired first and asked questions afterward. That gets people killed. He makes a mental note to find out the guard's name and rank when he could.

    Slowly, without any sudden movements to upset the fellow, Malcolm raises his hands and tilts his helmet enough for his face to be seen from above. "Sergeant Tann, Thyhis City Watch!" He calls up. "I've got an appointment to see Margrave Egan."

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    Listen: [roll]1d20+1[/roll]
    Spot: [roll]1d20+6[/roll]


    Edit: Odd, the rolls don't work...

    Edit2: Test:
    Listen: [roll]1d20+1[/roll]
    Spot: [roll]1d20+6[/roll]
    Last edited by Tyrael; 2008-11-24 at 10:17 PM.

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    Ambar jumps back as he hears the whizz of the crossbow bolt and stares at it stuck in the ground. That was smart, let's shoot our crossbow at anyone who passes by, he thought, One day I will have to teach this kid some manners, shooting at me like this. My rank may mean nothing here, but I am still an important person. Well, better tell them what they want to know before he decides that he really knows how to shoot a crossbow.

    "I am Ambar of Kotu, a noble from the lands to the North. I am here on official business," Ambar tells the man in the tower, as he slowly removes the hood from his cloak trying not to encourage any more crossbow fire.

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    (1d20+4)[20]
    (1d20+4)[14]


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    first is spot second is listen
    Last edited by fuzzylightning; 2008-11-24 at 05:16 PM.

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    Rayner

    Rayner approached the scene with his face in clear view, knowing to do so from his past trips into town. This must mean the rumors which have come into the monastery are true. The guards seem more suspicious than usual. He wasn't in any particular hurry since he would have to find somewhere to rest in town anyway, so he was content to wait and watch what might happen with this "Sergeant Tann" before requesting entrance.

    __________
    Listen: (1d20+9)[25]
    Spot: (1d20+9)[28]

    Curses. I experimented with rolls in spoilers and they worked, so I deleted them. I swear, I did not tamper with my rolls at all.

    * post roll count doesn't match database
    Last edited by Daracaex; 2008-11-24 at 09:06 PM.
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    Marcello had been running a quick errand outside of town, and was now returning back home, slightly tired. As he approached the familiar walls of Egan's Rest he noticed the small beacon, and then the two men infront of the gate, shouting an introduction in a submissive manner.

    He decided the best would be to let the guards blow off their steam on the newcomers, so he waited patiently behind the others, and a smug smile started to spread at the edge of his mouth, apparently he was certain that the guards would let him pass...ofcourse...


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    Spot: [roll]1d20+8[/roll]
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    Edit: Forgot to add rolls.
    Edit#2: Forgot that rolling in edited posts doesnt work, so I'll roll in the OOC instead. This wont happen again!
    Edit#3: Oh my god Im so embarrased, I really wish I had read the OOC before I posted, thought I'd speed things up by posting right away...SORRY! Marcello is now waiting inside at his smithy, probably making swe--*ahem* polishing his bastard sword.
    Last edited by Mathis; 2008-11-24 at 03:51 PM.

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    Trent

    Trent isn't used to this sort of walking. The furthest he's ever gone is to the old hill north of Druid's Tor. Trent's legs are tired, and he's tired.

    Trent hugs his cloak closer against the evening chill and removes his hat at the watchman's words. "My name is Trent. I-I just want to come in," He calls out nervously.

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    Last edited by starwoof; 2008-11-24 at 10:30 PM.
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    Quenten trudges wearily uphill. This Egan's Rest was more than a few days outside the city. Maybe being sent all the way out into the sticks was Their way of punishing him? If he'd been faster, if he'd been smarter, maybe if he'd been more confident? Would Doyle still be alive? Maybe.
    Doyle was a trained Paladin. A specialist against the darkness. Maybe if Doyle had sent Quenten in first. Quenten might've died, and Doyle could've finished it off? Doyle was more useful than Quin...It would've been for the best.

    Why am I thinking this? This isn't me. I know what it is; Too much time on the road. Too much time alone. Too much time to think. Stop thinking! Quenten thought - ironically. However, with this maudlin introspection, Quenten didn't hear someone call out to him. But, he did see the crossbow bolt land with a soft thud in front of him.

    Quenten's hand went straight to his crossbow hanging off his belt, throwing wide his cloak and revealing the bow to everyone who could see. However, he didn't draw it. That would be too threatening. No, this was just to show them that he was armed too.

    "My name is Inspector Drake. Special Investigations. Now I was told that I was expected here." Quenten said, with as much authority has he could muster. Trying to emulate Doyle as Quenten remembered what he would say in this situation.

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    The guard with the lantern holds a sword in the other hand. His badge of rank shows him to be a sargent in his own right. He swaggers a little as he walks and unshutters the lantern Oh yes, yes. And I'm a Border Lord. I'll be wanting to know what you're all doing traveling this late at night. Especially you lot! The guard indicates the locals with the hand holding the lantern. I'll be needing to see traveling papers from you, you and... you. The lantern light quickly reveals the faces of the two guardsmen and Ambar.
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    Trent

    Taking a step forward into the lantern light, Trent calls up to the guard again. "Please sir, its getting dark and cold, and we don't want to be left outside after dark. Can you please open the gates?"

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    Alright then. We'll get into the guardhouse. Rern, put the damned fire on. Storm's coming in. Sounds a big one. The sergeant shouts to the man at the sally-port. And you lot! Stand down those bows! You could've shot them, or worse, me! Those who can see the men on the wall see them put down their crossbows, and one of them slinks away back to his post. As you arrive at the sally-port, you can see that it's actually connected to the guardhouse by a set of locking doors, with narrow chimneys leading (presumably) to sections of the wall above. The rooms in here are of stone, though the wall is all massive felled logs, with stone towers at the gate.
    One of the guards points to Trent.
    You, you're Sterling's boy, ye? Our mam knew Sterling, afore they both died. Right proud of him she were, what being a southerner and all. The sergeant pushes the offending guard, who is blocking the door to the next room aside.
    Oh go bother a goat Stevens. Rern! Rern! Light that godsdamned fire, now! The one called Rern, a short, rodent-like man, standing near the fireplace, produces a tindertwig, striking it across the stones of the small hearth and grabbing a nearby bottle, takes a swig from it and spews it out across the flame, setting the (presumably) alcohol and the kindling wood alight, before dropping the tinderwig and stamping on it, and several small, drink-based fires that have sprung up around the edges.
    Now... about those papers. The sergeant has a mean gleam in his eye.
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    Sergeant Tann reaches into his breastplate and hands over his traveling papers, his face as carefully blank as any true copper. "Everything should be in order, Sergeant," he says crisply.
    Last edited by Tyrael; 2008-11-25 at 07:18 PM.

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    Quenten narrowed his eyes at the sergeant. Clearly, this situation here would be evidence somehow. This berg didn't trust strangers. So, either they used to trust strangers, until someone new came to town. Or, someone got past them with real papers, and then caused havoc in the town? Quenten made a mental note to check back with this sergeant about some strangers in the town - if any.

    Quenten opened his longcoat - displaying his crossbow and mace - and reached into an inside pocket. And drew out his travelling orders, and his holy icon of Yasek.

    "Like I said, my name is Inspector Drake. Quenten, if it makes any difference. And I'm part of Special Investigations." Quenten stated.

    Even if he's a stone-cold idiot, which isn't likely if he's sergeant; He'll know the badge. thought Quenten snidely.
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    Trent

    The boy nods when his father is mentioned before quietly following the little group into the gatehouse.
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    The Guards
    The Sargeant draws the guardsmen apart quickly, setting them down in the, admittedly small, guardhouse at a table with some benches and chairs set on either side. The Sargeant heads off, leaving the foreigners in the care of Stevens. Upon seeing the badge, Stevens decides it might be a good idea to talk.
    "Ye, ye I know them. We're not backwards fools out here. Had a couple of them adventuring types come in and try to get into the town after dark. Now, I'll tell ya, everyone, and I mean everyone who has their head screwed on right, even the southerners, knows you don't come near a border town after dark. Especially the southerners. They came creeping over the wall, and Rern there damned near put a bolt through one of their scragging heads.""Damn right." Rern interjects, cleaning off his crossbow.
    The Sargeant returns with another man, slightly shorter than he, the Sargeant being about average for the borderlands, in fact taller than most cityfolk, about 6'4". This meant that the man talking with the Sargeant, who was staring levelly over the man's head, is probably an officer. Stevens continues as the Sargeant returns.
    "Not meaning no disresp'ct but it's a little oonnacheral for people to be about after dark 'bout these parts. You best be 'memberin' that if you'll be wantin' to go any-" Here, the Sargeant kicks one of the legs of the chair. The leg gives out and the entire chair slips back onto the floor. Standing over the dazed Stevens.
    "Now, Stevens, I thought I told you to get that chair fixed. Why, anyone with 'alf a mind could kick you right out of it. Hop to it Stevens." The prone Stevens quickly recovers, picking up the chair and leg and runs out of the guard house at fill tilt.
    The Sargeant motions to the man in the doorway, who walks over. he speaks with a cultured voice that suggests above all else, education.
    "I'll be needing to know something Inspector Drake seeing as we don't get people from Special around here. Highest rank you get around these parts is Capitan, so Inspector, that would be along the lines of what? Sargeant? Not meaning to disrespect you but it does help if the fellows know how far up the ladder someone is, otherwise they get a little stupid, if you understand my meaning. Sargeant we shouldn't be needing your aid anymore this evening. I suggest you return to your duties. That storm sounded rather close." The shorter man makes a dismissive motion to the Sargeant, who stands firmly at attention. "The men are seeing to it sir."

    The Locals, Ambar and Rayner.
    "Goodgods, you'rea bloodyelf! What'dyou bedoing downhere. Godsdamn, a bloodyelf!" The stunned and overactive guard is quickly silenced by Rern, who following a quick "Damn right" to the group at the table, draws a chair to see to the others. "Sorry about that. He's a little soft in the head about foreigners." Now, I don't know any of you, but Rern there recognized you young master Serling, and the boys on the wall know the rest of you. I espect you'll be wanting to get bed-rest, it's a rather long walk from anywhere to Egan's Rest, except you two. I'll need to see your papers, since the Sarge is over there."

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    If they've got a name and they might be important they've got their own font. Otherwise, each of the individual fonts will symbolize either tone of voice or accent. In the post above, Rern is rather quite quiet, while Stevens has his own accent. You'll run into it a bit later on probably. I rather like it.
    Last edited by Aergoth; 2008-11-25 at 08:49 PM.
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    Rayner

    Rayner, having filed in behind the rest of the men trying to get into town, stands calmly as the guard starts losing his head over him. He found that most humans were decent (the ones that mattered, anyway), but every once in a while he'd get one of these kind of narrow-minded fools overreacting to him. It was nothing he couldn't tolerate.

    "I have traveled from Carrom Monastery to purchase tools and supplies," he said, pulling out the well-used traveling papers he had been given and showing them to Stevens. "I journey here a couple of times per year, so there should be no problem."
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    Malcolm's eyes dart back and forth under his helmet brim, following the exchange. He keeps his face as carefully blank as before, listening carefully and filing it away for future analysis. A good copper knew how to listen above all else, and when people got angry, they often ended up telling you more than they thought they did.

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    Default Re: Long Night [IC]

    Ambar hands over his traveling papers, not mentioning anything more than the fact that he has business here, seeing how mentioning his rank meant nothing, trying not to make any more trouble for himself or these odd people he seems to be traveling with. These people from Egan's Rest act like they have never seen anything different from themselves, might have to be weary of them, Ambar thought to himself. He does mention, "These boys need to learn to ask questions first and then shoot, practice bolt or not, its just good manners."

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    Quenten looks hard at this man, trying to get a read on him. He couldn't. The man was an officer, through-and-through. And, he obviously only let you know what he wanted to let you know.

    "Well, sir. In my line of work, we really don't have any rank. The Specials stopped bothering to use it a long time ago. Since, when a higher-up, of the brass kind." Quenten paused, to see if he could get a reaction. "Turned out to be part of the case, or corrupt, he could just pull rank, and the Investigator couldn't do anything about it. Power corrupts. Even Kings sometimes get beheaded. Who watches the watchmen? Well, Specials do. And the Gods watch us."

    "If you want to call me 'Sergeant'. Fine. But, just know that it means nothing to me. All's that matters is the badge."
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    "Of course, of course so just inspector then. Sergeant, see to it that these gentlemen find their way to Lord Egan, since you are still standing here I notice." The shorter man gives a quick nod and walks away. The Sargeant stands and makes sure he hears a door close somewhere off in the distance before continuing and sitting down. "Right, introductions then, I know your names, you don't know mine. Sergeant Hax, the charming man that you just saw was the commander of the watch, Captain Briggs-Houser, Lord Egan brought him with him from up north, in case you didn't guess. Hax removes his helmet. "I've never known Egan to be awake at this hour of the night, so you'll have to sleep somewhere. Paddy, the innkeeper should have rooms, he kept all the adventuring types out of there during our little siege. 'less you want to bunk here."
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    Malcolm nods and removes his helmet as well, favoring the other officer with a faint smile. "After a long road, Sergeant, I'll happily collapse wherever your men will have me, if you're offering. One Watch house is as good as another, and in my book a good Watchman isn't choosy about where he can catch a wink."

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    "I mean no disrespect sir, but I think I will go to the inn and take up one of those beds, sleeping in a Watch house just seems odd for me."

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    Trent

    Trent nods, "And me as well."
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    "Rern, take this lot on to Paddy's, less they've got a place to stay, remind him that there's no rules against finding a place to sleep after dark if he should happen to take issue with the fact that we're sending him business at short notice." Hax turns to face Drake and Tann. "You two, I'd say stay here. We'll head up to see if Egan's awake in the morning."

    Rern and others:
    Rern escorts those others, including Ambar, along to the rather large stone building near the square, as you near the center of the town, it becomes apparent that the buildings in the center are taller than those closer to the walls. He hammers on the door with one hand. "Paddy, open up, we've got business for you."

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    Anyone who thinks they'd know someone who'd put them up for the night, you've left the group headed for the inn for there now. More or less anyone of a lawful or good bent will put up a monk, for little more than a simple blessing on the house (non-magical, religious variety. Rayner would know this)
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    Trent

    Trent waits at the front of the group, unsure of whether he should be saying anything.
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    Waits for the door to open up, wondering what this inn will be like, probably like every other inn I have stayed at recently.

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    Rayner

    Rayner split off from the group shortly after leaving the guard house. He would instead try to find someone who could lend him room in a stable or something in which he could rest until morning. He didn't need to be comfortable, just away from the streets.
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    Rayner: As you wander through the streets of Egan's rest, you notice quite a few of them hang religious symbols in the windows, or carve them on doorposts, lintels and the doors themselves.
    ((Roll a knowledge (local) or knowledge religion check.))

    The Watchfolk: There are a few moderatly well appointed pallets in the back room of the main watchhouse, where Hax leads you.

    Everyone else: The innkeeper Paddy, is a slim, redhaired man with a large mustache and beard. Upon seeing the sizeable group of people behind Rern, He begrudingly opens the door and mutters "uncivilized bloody hour..." before ushering his patrons in.
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    Malcolm thanks the Sergeant kindly, then sprawls upon the pallet in exhaustion, falling asleep within several minutes.

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    Ambar looks at the innkeeper, and says, "Pardon our late arrival, but i would like a room to myself, thank you, I am not used to sleeping with others in the same room."

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    Trent

    Trent shuffles into the room. He finds a place near the fire and sprawls out on his cloak. It takes him a few minutes to fall asleep as he thinks about the days ahead.

    I'm sure it will all turn out okay.
    I used to do avatars on request, feel free to use them.

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