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Sometimes I almost forget how it all began. Who knows whether it was just chance or if it was fate that we all happened to be in that tavern (what was its name again? the Black Bat?) that night.
It must have been mid Elient, since it was only a tenday before Highharvestide as I recall, back (could it really have been that long ago?) in the Year of the Firedrake (713DR).
I can't really remember what brought each of us individually to Hlondeth in general and the Black Bat in particular. I often wonder what different path my life would have taken if I had just decided to spend the evening in a different pub that night...
It is just another night in Hlondeth, the City of Serpents. You find yourself in another forgettable tavern, having a light supper and relaxing by the hearth. The barkeep has announced last call, and the fire is dying down. Only you and three other adventurers, each sitting alone and lost in his own thoughts, are left in the tavern.
You are just getting ready to pick up and head out into the night when the front door crashes open and a desperate robed figure plunges into the room. He is completely bald and dressed in a fine yellow cassock. There is fresh cut on his scalp, and the blood has run down the left side of his face and stained the collar of his robe crimson.
He bolts the door then turns wild-eyed to the five of you (including the barkeep) in the room, "By the gods, please help me! We need light! More light!"
*Wottewort extinguishes the last of his rolled-up 'smokin' stick' as the man enters, stomping out the embers under his boot. He doesn't get up but only watches, leaning back in his seat with a cool smile. He speaks with a relaxed drawl, a warm look behind his dark eyes as he watches the elf tend to the intruder's wounds.*
"Whoa there, mon. Slow yaself down now. We can't be helpin' ya if ya don't give us more specifics, right?"
*He reaches into a pouch and removes a small pick, turning it over in his hands as he turns over his thoughts in his head.*
Geez... mon looks desperate. Wonder wot he means by all dis...
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\"Family man\" is a template that can be added to any male humanoid. He gains the subtype \"Tool.\"
Shrugging off Aeroz's assistance, the man shouts, "You don't understand! We need more light!"
With the door bolted, he runs over to the hearth and starts throwing in additional logs. He then takes a small wrapped package out of his robes, and unwraps it by the fire.
"I have no choice," he says more to himself than to any of you, as he lifts a glistening serpentine dagger, turning once again to face the room.
"We don't want any trouble here," cautions the barkeep as he reaches under the bar.
Sedryn deep in prayer and soul searching slowly realizes the nature of the interruption. If it is more light the man wants lets see what I can do, he thinks to himself.
*Sedryn reaches into his pack and pulls out his everburning torch and lantern. Sticking the torch in a nearby holder walks over the fire to light a stick to light the lantern.*
Once finished says, “There, now we have more light, could you tell us what this is all about?”
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Rodrick the Red
Don't Believe Everything You Think!
Some people are like a Slinky ... not really good for anything, but you still can't help but smile when you shove them down the stairs.
The Last Light: Ravid Zev
NPX: Gates of Shadow Keep: Patash
Storm on the Horizon: Rask
The man's scalp continues to bleed as he holds the wavy-edged dagger in two trembling hands. "She moves in the shadows!" he gasps.
His eyes widen as he looks past and behind you. "She's here!"
Turning, you see a woman step out of the shadows in the corner of the room. She is slight of build with short, red hair. She wears black leather armor and a black cloak. Though the hood is thrown back, deep shadows make it hard for you to get a good look at her features.
Before anyone can react, she lifts her hand wordlessly as if to say hello, then she closes her fist. All of the lights in the bar go out simultaneously, including Sedryn's everburning torch and lantern.
The magical darkness leaves the entire room in shadows, for humans, elves, and halflings alike.
OOC: Please submit two Spot checks each. (You can use the Online Dice Roller in my sig on any other one you prefer. Just be sure to send the result to rkshin@mac.com.)
Sedryn's light spell seems to die, almost as if it was swallowed up by the darkness. A faint glow is all that results.
In the resulting shadowy illumination, each of you is barely able to make out each other moving in the darkness. None of the vague figures you see seem to be the woman however. The robed man groans in fear. Through the shadows you can see him slashing the air with the kris dagger in desperation.
Only Aeroz and Sedryn spot the dark cloaked figure of the woman as she rises up behind her target and strikes. The man sags, then collapses to the ground almost silently. The dark figure crouches down over his body and picks something up, her face still cloaked in shadow.
*The halfling fumbles for a moment in the darkness for his everburning torch, only to quickly realize that it is powerless. Returning it to his pack, he produces his rapier and stands poised to strike. He begins slipping back into a corner of the bar, guiding himself with his hand and being careful to move as quietly as possible*
If I can't see her, I'll make damn sure she can't see me...
(OOC: Move Silently roll sent plus initiative; just add another 2 to the Move Silently.)
Sedryn crouches next to the fallen man and grabs his hand. He is almost face to face with the woman, yet because of the shadows he can not make out her features clearly.
Wottworte backs into a corner, weapon ready, while Lithandrill pokes about himself cautiously in the gloom.
Bloody ingrates... if ya gonna be sneakin' around, best be doin' it quietly...
*Wottworte remains absolutely still, rapier drawn, waiting for the moment that the woman (or any of these other strange people in the bar) attempts to strike him.*
(OOC: Readying action...)
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\"Family man\" is a template that can be added to any male humanoid. He gains the subtype \"Tool.\"
The woman's eyes lock with Sedryn's as they face each other across the fallen man's body. For a moment he braces himself for an attack, but instead, she winks and tumbles away into the darkness.
Lithandrill continues to poke about the room, bumping into chairs and tables noisily. Wottworte, on the other hand, patiently waits with his back against the wall.
Aeroz waits near the door and is rewarded when he sees the woman's form rise up next to the door, unbolting it. He lunges and she cries out as one of his rapiers pierces her side. Then the door opens and she is gone.
"dammit, will someone clear this damn darkness!!, And what in the nine hells was that all about!"
*sigh* "well there is no use crying over spilled milk."
*he feels around for a chair and then sits down"
"Ugh I really have to lay of the booze, this is getting to my heads."
*He puts one of the chairs he bumped over up again and sits down.*
One moment I am drinking my last bit of ale, the other a man bursts in and is followed by some weird shadow chick. Hell I didn't even get to see if the lass had looks to match that sneaking of her. Well she didn't take out those lights to conceal her stunning beauty I am sure.
Sigh Never a dull moment.
"A gold piece for the first to tell me what the hell just happened and another one for the one who can get rid of this damned darkness."
"Lithandrill puts his two-hander back in the sheet across his back."
The darkness dissipates slowly, revealing Wottworte in the corner, Lithandrill and Aeroz sitting quietly as if nothing had happened, and Sedryn kneeling beside the wounded man, tending to him. The bartender, trembling and sweating, puts his loaded crossbow down on the counter and wipes his brow. Bewildered, more than anything else, no one speaks.
Heavy footsteps pound the pavement outside and you hear someone passing by on the street exclaim, "The Emerald Guard!" The footsteps stop abruptly, with a jangle of armor and weapons, outside of the tavern and a voice barks, "Throw down your weapons and come out quietly!"
*Wottworte leans his rapier against the wall and against a table, dropping his crossbow and bolts next to it. He moves with a casual natural precision: slow and laid back but incredibly smooth. He steps into the center of the bar and scopes out the group; with his body firmly in the center of the group, the gigantic wart on the tip of his nose becomes more than apparent for the first time.*
"Well, mon, I s'pose we ain't got nuffin' to hide. If'n they comin' in, we best be goin' peaceful-like, eh?"
*He chuckles a bit--the timing is a bit awkward, but he certainly seems cool about the whole situation.*
"Call me Wottworte--Wottworte Riffleraff. Should we go outside then, mon?"
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\"Family man\" is a template that can be added to any male humanoid. He gains the subtype \"Tool.\"
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Into the East [closed]
Trog's Rendition of me, complete with a shirt reminding me who I am!
