Cold Northwest 3.X

[afroakuma]

Rigley, the caravan master, is winding down his last few trips to the northern frontier of Kabon before the deep winter sets in. From Braska Traders, where you were recruited for this job, to Hayvale where the four carriages made their rendezvous, you are now two days' ride from the deep frontier settlement.

Selvern is the source of the best Kabon whitewood, and is one of few established hamlets to survive the brutal winters. Deep in a mixed deciduous/coniferous forest, it sees a cold snap long before the leaves fall.

In the second cart, a red-haired halfling and a stocky, weathered human sit across from an elf woman, looking mildly annoyed, and a wild-looking man wearing thick leathers.

The third cart has a young human male wearing a crystal and a casual, grinning half-orc sitting across from a thin grey elf male and a beautiful black-haired woman who seems too perfect to be human.

A dry, rattling shuffle can be heard from something rolling around in the fourth carriage.

[Fax Celestis]

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The black-haired woman shuffles a deck of weathered cards absently. Inspection reveals they're not playing cards--they're tarot cards, and she handles them with a grace that demonstrates she knows both what they are and what they mean.

Her glowing green eyes are offset by her tanned skin and black hair, making her look almost feline in countenance. If it were not for the ease and grace with which she carries herself, one would almost assume that she was not intended to be here, instead ensconced in some castle tower under her noble father's watchful gaze. Instead, she is out on the road, wearing a patchwork of faded noble's garb and replacement, more practical clothing. The crossbow and dagger at her hip testify to her capabilities outside the home.

But she is not staring absently into space; no, instead she is studying the crystal upon her wagon-mate¹. Periodically, she stops shuffling and flips a card, examining it carefully before returning it to the pack.

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¹Detect Magic, DC 15 (1d20+9=29), 60' gaze. Examining the crystal and the occupants of the wagon.

[Jalil]

Lucius sits in the corner of the carraige, folded deep within his off-black rode. His shocking blue eyes stand out, piercing throw the shadow cast by his thick cowl. His hands are folded inside his sleeves, and he seems deep in thought. Cursing himself for having made such a foolish decision to leave his elven lands, and again for agreeing to such a task, Lucius quietly bemoans his misfortune.
Consorting with humans, acting as their slave. Feh. I'll finish this quick, take their pathetic offering of money, and move on to bigger and better. Note to self: Purchase or cast a disguise for Malich. Having him away from me is most discomforting... I suppose I may as well begin a conniving game with these fools, get them to like me. Mobilize entropy units, in progress.

"So guys, how's it going? We ready to do this thing? What is this thing, anyway? No matter what, I'm ready to *ahem* 'Gir r done'. That is commonly accepted dialect right? Sorry, Common is new to me. My parents thought multi-lingual younglings had a benefit, but that was ages ago, before your time, I daresay. So I learned elven and Altsprach, as it's known now, as much good as that does me. Picking up another language isn't easy if you're older than 80.

Against his true character, with every fiber of being straining against such an act, he does his best to emulate this expression (^.^) with a peace sign hand gesture.

Gods damn their souls if this backfires. I need their support. This being cheerful energetic bit better pay off, or let me know if it isn't, so I can drop this tiring charade.

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If spellbooks are magic, you got that one, otherwise, I'm clean

[afroakuma]

(Dice thread: Here)

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DM results of action rolls affecting one character will be spoilered and notated with the character's name only.

Felicia:

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Detect magic reveals no blue glow on the crystal or its owner, but some other coloration... vaguely cyan, of faint strength, emanates from the crystal. It reads as an unknown school. The half-orc and elf do not have any magical auras on their persons.

The half-orc reacts favorably to "git 'r done," widening a coarse grin that reveals a couple of missing teeth and the remnants of a scar.

(Common is Common.)

[SilentNight]

Telen lounges with his back against the cart. His worn clothing fits his lined face, a casual viewer might estimate him to be near 40. They would be wrong. Near him rests an equally worn scythe, its shaft brilliant white like the surrounding trees.

He casts his gaze around his companions, giving a soft chuckle at the elven maiden's apparent discomfort. He then goes to drink in the surrounding sights, noting the light dusting of snow on the trees, and how it compliments their trunks. He breathes deeply, drinking in the crisp air and a soft smile emerges onto his face, deepening the lines already apparent.

[afroakuma]

The fierce-looking man in the second cart casts a lopsided grimace - perhaps some form of smile - in Telen's direction.

"You're handy with that thing, I hope. This here ain' like the farmlands or down south. We's have wild things up here; wolves, krenshar, some vicious wolverines... ever see a dragon? I ain'. But a man's got to be ready for anysuch in the north woods."

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The spellbook reads clean.

[kamikasei]

Derham grins at the elf, not needing the prompting voice of his crystal's stream of observations to see how ill-used he was to bantering. "Don't worry," he said, "you can make yourself understood, certainly. And if you're stuck, I can interpret a little," he adds in Altsprach.

He ignores the scrutiny of the female passenger, curious to see when she'll pipe up of her own accord. To fill the silence, he gives a theatrical "brrr!" and gathers his worn-looking traveling cloak more tightly about him. The dagger at his belt and crossbow hanging at his side are visible as he moves, but otherwise the only gear visible is his pack and weapons propped up beside him on the seat, ready to slung on easily. His skin is pale, and unreddened by the cold.

[afroakuma]

The thuggish half-orc gives Derham a playful nudge. "You be cold now? You not last on frontier for too long, say I. Heh heh heh. We get you maybe more blanket?" The tone of his voice suggests that he is teasing.

[SilentNight]

Telen turns his gaze to regard the man, a tired look in his eyes, " I like to think I am. Killed none too few wolves back on the farm. Although I've yet to have to use it on something smarter. But that's the past, we'd best be watching the road." He returns to surveying the scenery.

[kamikasei]

Derham laughs. "Ah, I guess I'm not much of an actor! No, I'm used to plenty colder than this. I'm from Celorne. You want to talk about not being able to handle cold, come up to us some time and see how you fare!"

Pale blue eyes twinkle with laughter framed by the black of his hair and beard. "So where do the rest of us hail from, eh?"

[Jalil]

Feh. Why do they insist on names and stories? Why are we so often defined by our past? If I'm going to escape what I've left behind, save for what I brought with me, I need to get my past out of my future.

After hearing brief muttering under his hood, the elf flips it back, revealing the gaunt face of what must be one of the oldest creature you've seen. So unusual that a creature of a race of youth and vitality could show such weathering. His skin, crow's feet highly prominent, clung to his bones. Perhaps it was a trick of the light in the carriage, but a flicker of the death's head flashes over his already skeletal appearance.

As if in anticipation of your double-take, the face returns to normal. Weathered, but normal. He shoots a grin and you can see a new aura exuding, one of quiet confidence. His barely upturned lips belie the smile held in his eyes, quietly amused by his thoughts.

"In my years, I've come to find that where one comes from means little against where he goes. Take myself, for example. I've always been around. Since the beginning of the age, gods take me. I still don't see how you humans get anything done. How old are you? No more than 50, nay? I've seen more generations rise and fall than you have winters, 'youngins'.

With that, he lets out an odd noise, along the lines of "Lull". His eyes continue to smile, but beyond that noise, he makes no effort to laugh.

This may lead to some questions, but If I can plant the tales of my immortality soon, it can be relayed about even sooner. This is where I stake my claim. The intelligent elf always uses the tools nature provides, and since my gift is my intelligence, I must use that to get the leverage I need. Kauyon, patient hunter, hear me. Give me the fortitude to to let this plan come to fruition.

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Trying to RP a fiendishly intelligent evil character here. It's unlikely that Lucius will have time to make his move before we draw to a close, so skip the italics part if you don't like his betrayal plans :D

[insecure]

Celinda

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Init: +2
HP: 11/11
AC: 17

Spells prepared:
Bless (1/1)

Celinda, who otherwise just sat around, doing nothing, snapped back to consciousness at Derham's question. Unlike Lucifer's opinion, Celinda liked to tell stories, especially those about herself. Granted, she might not be the person who has achieved the most in this caravan, but she were still fond of telling tales about the her goddess, her own military training, and that raid last summer.

"I come from a camp not far away from here. I were the one chosen to guard this caravan along with you from said camp, and, well that's about all," she quickly sums up, before continuing to the story about the raid.

"But that's not that important. You see, I'm a warrior of Alynde, the Great, and that's not nothing. Having lived in this war-camp for the past three years, we heard about some goblins roaming the lands nearby, so there, five years ago, my story begins..."

It's up to you whether she gets interrupted or not, but if she won't be, this will develop into a long story describing how cowardly the goblins behaved, how great her goddess is, and how easy Celinda and her fellow warriors vanquished the goblins with the help of Alynde, the Almighty, showing incredible swordplay and perfectly timed strikes.

[afroakuma]

In the second cart, the wild-looking man cuts off the elven warrior.

"Swordmaiden's follower, huh. She of the Blade ain' many known in this land. You'll be from off, then? On my guess, west to Parsus.

This 'un here's a quiet type. You'll not find enough what have actions for words. I hope you've faced a screamin' krenshar before, though; elsewise, what would you do if a winter wolf came your way? Beasts, terrible ones."

He falls silent.

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Just to remind everyone: second cart has Telen, Tommy and Celinda. Third cart has Felicia, Lucius and Derham.

In the third cart, the half-orc shoots an irritated look at Lucius.

"You need better spirit up the frontier way. Get some color. Meat on you bones."

He glances to Derham. "Cold, some bad cold in Celorne. You be tough, yah?"

Glancing out the window at the darkness, he adds, "We's one day out and time for a stop. Camp for night, small fire."

Sure enough, the wagons lurch to a halt. The caravan porters begin opening the wagon doors, pulling out rations, water and kindling. An older, spry half-elf, Rigley jumps out of the front wagon, slapping each of your in turn as a signal to get out to make camp.

The three human porters, a dwarf and the two men from your wagons set about establishing a makeshift camp. As you all sit by the fire, Rigley sends the wild man with three porters to watch duty.

[Fax Celestis]

Still quiet, as likely due to a self-imposed silence as it may be due to the weather or merely even that she has not been addressed yet--and a lady only speaks when spoken to--Felicia settles by the fire. Her luminous green eyes appear gold in the firelight, and she scans the caravan to glean what information she can from her surroundings.¹²³⁴

She carries a smug smile, as if pleased with herself, for a few moments before she blushes slightly. The subtle smile disappears, and her eyes flick to the ground. Damn it, Felicia! Pride and overconfidence almost killed you before. They'll do it again, if you let them.

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¹Detect Evil, DC 18 (1d20+9=28)
²Detect Chaos, DC 18 (1d20+9=19)
³Detect Good, DC 18 (1d20+9=29)
⁴Detect Law, DC 18 (1d20+9=20)

[afroakuma]

Felicia:

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All faint auras:

Detect good
• the stocky human
• the elf warrior
• the redheaded halfling
• the man with the crystal

Detect law
• the grey elf
• Rigley

Detect chaos
• the elf warrior
• the redheaded halfling
• one of the men outside the cart perimeter

Detect evil
• the grey elf

[kamikasei]

He glances to Derham. "Cold, some bad cold in Celorne. You be tough, yah?"

"Oh, I'm no woodsman. I just don't mind cold much. My toes'll still freeze off in winter if I don't take care, like anyone else's." Derham considers. "Well, anyone else in a winter back home, at least."

The half-orc provides a welcome excuse not to reply to the elf, since his proclamation was rather hard to politely follow.

He disembarks when the wagons stop, picking up his gear, tucking his crystal half-into a pouch sewn into his cloak and, if it seems appropriate, giving Felicia a hand down. He does what he can to aid in setting up camp where he won't be more hindrance than help, half-whistling, half-humming a tuneless and meandering piece of music as he goes.

[Fax Celestis]

Felicia will accept the help down from the wagon.

As she scans the camp, she'll make mental note of who scans as what. She'll mark down notes in a small journal she carries, both of her impressions of the people and of the trip itself.

[afroakuma]

The camp is as comfortable as can be expected, considering the chilly weather and muddy, snowy ground. The horses are tethered between two of the wagons and the fire, protecting them from the northern wind. Rigley has passed out blankets and mugs of a hot, flavorless broth with chunks of beef bobbing in it.

The caravan master glances at the dwarf porter, who trundles over to Lucius and whispers in his ear.

Lucius:

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"Beggin' yer pardons, sir, but we'd like to bed down soon and need that fourth wagon... er... unoccupied, if you follow."

[SilentNight]

Telen laughs at the man's comment as he gathers his belongings. "I can speak if you'd like me too. Just enjoying the scenery while it's here is all. Why worry about a Kreshnar if there's not one here now? As for me, I'm Telen Batoir, Trying to find me a little piece of land." With that he gets out and finds a comfortable spot.

[afroakuma]

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Just so we're all on the same page(s), we have an OOC thread here is anyone needs it.

[Jalil]

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Then fetch me a riding cloak, lest we scare our companions. I'll move him then

With a few choice words, Lucius snaps his fingers, creating a blue spark. Without a look to anyone, he begins to pull spice jars out of midair, sprinkle some of their contents into his cup of broth, before the *poof* into wispy smoke. He sniffs deeply before digging into a wonderfully prepared beef and barley stew, or so it tastes. Now looking around, he asks if anyone else would like to 'Kick it up another notch'.

After he finishes eating, he begins to idly amuse himself by playing with the ground around him. He cleans the mud from the area around him, and smooths the snow perfectly flat. He conjures wisps of smoke and bends them together like wire, creating some sigil in the snow. With a wave of his hand, the spiked insignia rises and bursts into flames. the entire construct burns away, leaving only a slight afterimage in your eyes.

[afroakuma]

Lucius:

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"Yessir, got that here for you."

[kamikasei]

Derham watches the elf curiously. "Sure, I'll bite," he replies, handing Lucius his bowl. "I assume these are some of the ancient mysteries of the elves that you've picked up in your countless generations, or are you just that good a chef?"

The smile with which he says this is intended to make it a jest rather than an insult, if Lucius will take it as such.

[SilentNight]

"Sure," says Telen, "meal's always better with spice."

[Fax Celestis]

Felicia will wordlessly decline the offer. She eats quietly and quickly, but not in a slovenly or gluttonous fashion.

[afroakuma]

The caravan master and the porters also decline. Rigley looks a bit suspicious, but says not a word.

[insecure]

Celinda

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Sheet
Init: +2
HP: 11/11
AC: 17

Spells prepared:
Bless (1/1)

Consumables:

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{table=head]Item:|Left:|Used in this post:
Trail rations (1 day)|6|-
Waterskin with water|2|-
Sunrod|2|-[/table]

"Winter wolves, you say? I can't say I've heard of those before. Care to elaborate?"

The elf seems to forget about her story, only paying attention to whatever information the man has to offer. If she could rid this land of another evil, Alynde would certainly bless her with her divine offerings, granting Celinda insight into the deepest aspect of swordplay and the most masterful maneuvers.

[afroakuma]

The man makes a gesture indicating a discussion for later, as the caravan is stopping. Over dinner, Celinda repeats the question to one of the porters.

"Oh, well, those wicked beasts're few and far between down this far. Terrible, fiendish brutes, though. Cunning, y'see. Nothing like a cunning beastie to tear you to ribbons. And them winter wolves, why they're the Dark God's icy heart given life, I'd say." The porter glances around to confirm that nobody has been offended, then continues. "They can breathe out a cold so fierce that it could sear the blue flesh right from your bones! Mountain lions are no better for it; pounce on you and tear out your guts, they will. Krenshar have a scream that'll setyou quaking in your boots, and the timber wolves, well, they hunt in packs and are just powerful savage."

[Fax Celestis]

Felicia nods. "Those krenshar certainly are."

Realizing the faux pas she has unwittingly committed, she blushes, and bows her head, averting her eyes. Ladies only speak when spoken to, Felicia! You're a lady, aren't you?

[kamikasei]

Derham, supping his broth and reflecting on the fact that giving a creepy-looking, cadaverous elf of indeterminate age the ability to make one's meals taste however that elf thinks they should taste is not necessarily a good idea, notes the human woman's awkward position. "You know something of the beasts about here, lady?" he prompts her.