Ongoing Games (In-Character)Play-by-post games are going on in this forum as we speak (well, read). All threads on this board are actual games, so please, only post on a thread if you are a player of that game.
Selia nods, reacting the moment the dwarf surrenders. We accept your surrender. She says before turning to the others, a slight smile on her face. Melchia, do you have the ability to pry into the minds of others? We may need it to interrogate her. Unless you'd be willing to tell us who your employer is? As she asks her question, the bard turns back to the dwarf, her expression serious.
Not Person_Man, don't thank me for things he did.
The dwarf opens her backpack, takes out a letter and without saying a word throws it at you. As you open it, it reads:
Your targets are a group of three adventurers. They are easily recognized: one male elf, one male human, and one female human, and they will exit Galsaff tomorrow morning, due northeast. You have to eliminate them, bring proof, and then report back. With this letter, accept half the payment for the job. I will give you the other hundred platinums once you come back to the place we agreed upon.
It appears everything is back to normal. Oh and, the plot thickens!
Melchia stares at the wound on his arm, expressionless as always. He is quiet for several moments, before he finally blinks and picks up the letter (or takes it from whomever is reading it after they're finished).
"...Hit-men. Or hit-dwarves, as it were. I suppose we must now take her back to town and turn her in to the authorities..."
Melchia is attempting to regain his psionic focus, full-round action each attempt, DC 20 Concentration check.
"You've broken the law you know. At the same time, you were only following orders. My my, what a conundrum." Rubido would put away his shield, but kept his sword out, just in case. "Since the dwarf has surrendered, I don't see why we shouldn't just let them go."
Last edited by Overlord Rion : 01-14-2012 at 03:18 AM.
Shaking her head, the woman explains. We received our first message in the wame way - a letter. And we only ever saw a cloaked stranger. The first letter said that he was a priest or something. I don't know anything else.
As she is speaking, she rummages through her backpack and the one of her dead companion, takes out two pouches and throws them at you. Everyone recognizes the tingling sound...
Melchia calmly pockets 34 platinum pieces, speaking to the dwarf woman almost as an afterthought.
"...Your own magic suggests you serve a god yourself. Just curious as to which one exactly, if you do indeed channel divine energies... As far as I am concerned, you are free to go, unless my companions have anything else to add."
I was raised in a temple to Nerull, near Necratal. I was taught magic there. I left as soon as I could, because I don't like temples and I don't like cults, and it was a dangerous place to be caught in. Thank you for sparing my life.
The dwarf picks up her stuff and walks away, leaving her dead companion there.
You all know Nerull as the greater deity of Death and Evil.
Melchia: Knowledge (history): (1d20+4) <- nice!
Melchia knows quite a bit of Necratal. It is a city just recently founded, at the start of the current Era (about 240 years ago). It was created by a powerful being who, following the Cataclysm that brought hordes of fiends to the world, was able to play on the weakness of the nations of that time - particularly Anmer, the human nation - and managed to found a city-state in the mountains. Said powerful being, shortly after having founded the city, suddenly disappeared from all written accounts and from the memories of everyone, such that nobody now knows who it is, or if it's still alive, or anything.
Necratal in the subsequent decades grew strong thanks to extensive use of undead as labor force, and to this day undead make up a good chunk of the population. It is now a thriving city-state with large borders, acknowledged by all nations except for the Elves, who have never wanted any diplomatic exchange with them.
Hmph, Necratal. What a useless place, filled with useless things that shouldn't be moving about. But, as much as I loathe the city, I can't go back on what I said. Unless Selia does something, I shall not go back on my word. "Everyone, it appears we have a malefactor at our heels. And one with a large pool of resources to boot. Speaking of resources...."
At this Rubido would search the body of the fallen dwarf, and taking a closer look at those claws of his.
Selia, satisfied with the result of the combat and their victory over the assassins, isn't bothered much by the thought of a weakling being after their heads. As the dwarf leaves, she turns to the others. So, then, does this deter us from our current plan or will we continue on the road to find the caravan?
Not Person_Man, don't thank me for things he did.
You walk the whole day. As the sun goes down, you stop to camp. The Dark Wood, which you already saw once in the evening, falls completely silent again. No wind, no animals, no rivers. There is no sound at all, and it is unsettling. Rubido, exhausted from the fight and then the long trek, badly needs some rest.
Preparations for the evening/night, whatever you feel you need to do.
Melchia ponders the strange clawed dwarf as the party travels, thinking back to any obscure scraps of lore he may have come across during his travels.
When it comes time to make camp, Melchia frowns, feeling somewhat exposed in the dark woods.
"Rubido, you ought to rest first; you look the most in need of rest. I will take first watch, then."
The strange young man helps start a fire, and sits on an overturned log nearby, his crossbow on his knees.
Otrino slid ungracefully off the old paint. She snorted as he landed, and shook her head back and forth. He grabbed at her reins and caught her nose. "Ssh, ssh, old girl," he said, stroking her long muzzle for a second before letting her dissolve into dust and magic. He had no name for the horse. He'd stopped naming them hundreds of summons ago, when he realized he'd never see the same one twice.
Otrino didn't go far before deciding to make camp. The sun was sliding below the canopy already, and his back and legs hurt from riding. Bending down every few pieces to gather dead wood for a fire only made it worse. He tried to keep his huffing and puffing under control, but wasn't sure what good it would do. The elves he knew would hear the popping of his joints and the creak of his bones; he could only assume any drow around would be the same way.
He was so worried about this that he almost missed the fire flaring up ahead of him, in a clearing he could barely see through the trees, but which looked like it would make a good campsite. But he did see it, and his body ground to a halt. Only when he was standing still did he realize how quiet the forest around him was. No crickets chirped, no owls screeched, no mice nibbled and chittered among the tree roots. Whoever these people were, they were either not looking or listening around them, or they heard him coming. They were probably not the drow he feared; no one wanting to be stealthy would light a fire like that. And if the drow were around already, he would be safer in someone else's camp than by himself. Maybe they'd be welcoming.
He started forward again, and passed just inside the clearing so they could see him. "Good evening, travellers," he said, hefting his load a little higher. "Call me Rino. I don't suppose you could use any more firewood?"
Melchia stands, squinting his fire-blind eyes into the gathering gloom at the sound of the new voice approaching. He does not lower his crossbow.
"...Rino, was it? You must forgive us if we are not overly welcoming at the moment. These are not safe times to be traveling. Why are you alone in these parts?"
Rino can see Melchia by the crackling firelight, a willowy young man in leather armor. A dark patch of dried blood can be seen on his arm, and dark circles are under his pale gray eyes.
Otrino sets the wood down slowly next to him, and when he stands back up it is with his hands raised in front of his chest. He can feel Prometeo twining himself around his arm, but Otrino's need to keep a secret holds the snake back from revealing himself. "What a silly question, young man," he says, angling his head so the firelight will twinkle in his eyes. "I'm alone because no one would come with me. I don't blame them either. As you say, these woods are not the most hospitable of places."
"But come," he continues, "You're not bandits, or you would have demanded money by now. Have you met any? Is that why you're so quick to turn weapons on a stranger?"
Melchia's expression is cold.
"We encountered a pair of thugs on the road this morning, paid a high sum to kill us, specifically. So you would understand if we are a bit on edge after a run-in with assassins."
"I suppose I couldn't have held it against you if you had shot me on sight," says Otrino. He seems to accept the possibility with equanimity, but his face becomes thoughtful. His left hand begins to waver in the air as if it wants to go to his face, but he keeps it in check. "These assassins," he says, "What did they look like? And why were they after you? The drow I'm tracking shouldn't have moved until the day after tomorrow, and from what I know of them they'd target a gypsy caravan not a camp like yours."
Melchia lowers the crossbow, although he still does not put it down. His eyes never leave the newcomer; they never seem to blink, either.
"We were attacked by a pair of dwarves. We have not seen any drow. Strange that dark elves would be on the surface. We too are looking for a gypsy caravan, for different reasons. As for why the dwarves wanted us dead, I am not completely sure. Their orders were vague, and seemed to originate from Necretal."
"Bloodsucking, profiteering parasites," says Otrino, shaking his head and dropping his hands to his sides. Prometeo springs up his sleeve so he won't drop onto the ground, and ends up twined around Otrino's shoulder. "I knew some people who took refuge in Necretal during the war. We lost touch after they escaped Anmer, so I don't know what happened to them, but let's just say I didn't steer anyone else to Necretal for asylum after that if I could help it.
"About the caravan, like I say, the dark elves are going to hit it the day after tomorrow. I'm trying to prevent that, and whatever your business is with them, their plans put you on a clock. Would you mind sharing your business? I know you don't trust me, but I've told you mine, and if we can work together I'll make sure you're rewarded."
Melchia nods, and sits back down on the overturned log.
"Very well. If the caravan is indeed in danger, it is in our best interest to help them as well. My companions and I are quite capable of handling ourselves, although I am yet to test my mettle against dark elves... my name is Melchia, by the way."
"A pleasure, Melchia," says Otrino. Prometeo peeks his head out of his collar. "This is Prometeo, my companion. Speaking of which, I look forward to meeting your companions tomorrow, but it was a hard day's ride to get here, and I'll need to rest and prepare spells if I'm to be of use to you and the caravan."
Otrino shrugs his pack off his back and rolls his bedroll out on the ground a little ways away from the sleeper and trancer, but still inside the ring of firelight. Doubtless Melchia still had questions about how Otrino could help him and his companions, but he looked like a sharp youngster, and Otrino had given him enough to figure it out while still keeping his mind occupied for what was evidently his watch.
Melchia nodded to the man as he set up camp. His presence gave him even more reason to stay alert and awake, not that he needed much more motivation; he hated sleep, and the threat of his reoccurring nightmares.
Before Melchia's turn guarding is over, a strong gust of wind comes from the forest, breaking the silence. As the fire is almost put out by the violent wind, Melchia tries to pay attention to the Dark Wood. Despite his efforts, though, some creatures surprise him because of the darkness and their ability to hide.
Three strange wolves spring out of the forest, with the clear intention of attacking. They aren't ordinary wolves, though. Their limbs seem to be half animal, half plant; even the hind legs are crippled by the horrid transofmation, leaving the animals unable to move as fast as normal wolves. Their body is part bark and part fur, and they only have their left eye - the other side of the face is disfigured in exactly the same way, on all three wolves.
The creatures are growling without making too much noise, so nobody awakens.
Lotsa crunch for ya
Round 1 of combat, Initiative
Wolf 1: 20
Wolf 2: 15
Wolf 3: 15
Waking up people
With a full-round action, you can shake someone and wake him up. With a move action, you can shout. This will be a DC -5 (lol) to hear, and if the others hear it they awaken. Sleeping people have a -10 penalty to Listen checks. Attacking or casting a spell with a verbal component is a DC 0 to hear.
CTP, if you perform any action that requires Listen checks for the others, please include their checks on your post if they are needed. Rubido has a -5, Selia -3, Otrino -8.Everyone else, you'll act in Round 2 if you awaken during this round.
None of you is or will be able to readily identify the mutation of these wolves.
For the briefest moment, Melchia fears he has fallen asleep, that his nightmares have returned. But the strange wolves are very real, as is the danger. His crossbow already in hand and loaded, he takes aim at the nearest mongrel and fires.
"Everyone! Wake up! We are under attack!"
Myth Weavers is down right now (why am I awake at this ungodly hour?) If I recall correctly, Melchia should have a BAB of +1 and a DEX bonus of... +1? For a +2 on the attack roll: (1d20+2) Damage: (1d8)
Then as a move action he shouts (I thought talking was a free action?)
At any rate, thank god for that initiative roll...
Listen checks for cats and kittens, 2 chances (DC 0, DC -5):
Rubido: (1d20-5)[-3], (1d20-5)
Selia: (1d20-3), (1d20-3)[-2]
Otrino: (1d20-8), (1d20-8)