The Latest

[nubz]

okay, i'll try to summarize things so that we're all on the same page.

we've got a bit of an odd group gathered together. I'm ont entirely sure if you are good or evil, but we shall let the game take its course. quite frankly, i've got some wicked baddies lined up, (if the dragon didn't scare you you should see what i whipped up for corlaan to fight) and we can either run a 'lesser of two evils' campaign or a 'whos in charge now? HUH? yeah, thats right, cry like a little girl . . . oh yeah, kiss my feet, you know it'.

wait, i'm getting carried away there. anyways, the latest news of the world around you, as you all know it.

cain: the forest is in turmoil. you can't remember when the last time you saw a butterfly, and mother nature's usually pretty good at giving you little gifts like that - brightening your day with a smile. you've recently been hunting on the northern side of the Way, because the Abbot's men have been sending out regular patrols. And, you're staying a little bit further to the east because the gnolls appear to have multiplied freakishly over the winter. they've scared the game away - hell, they scared most of the owlbears away. So, you and your pet (what was the worg's name i don't think you ever said and if you did i'm stupid so humour me) have had to go where the food went, though you had to steer quite close to the river Serpent to avoid most of the larger elven settlements.

Kobre: your welcome wore out faster than you could have possibly imagined when you got off that boat and landed in the city. it took you all of two days to realize two things. One, they don't trust a stranger, especially one with an accent and who takes such precaution to conceal himself. Two, the so-called civilization of the big city reminds you of home - and not in a good way. So, you find yourself in a small little village about ten days trek to the east of the main city, towards the shores of the peaceful southern river known as the Snake. The town itself (you're not sure but you think its called Maaoluus, sounds elven and you have trouble pronouncing it) is inhabited equally and righteously by men and elves. They all seem to be fairly friendly, and none carry swords openly but for the handful of guards. No, this town is renowned for its bowmen, and its attention to song. You're not sure why every tavern has an army of ministrels, but you do know the bowmen are there to keep the banks of the river uncongested of the foul axe-wielding savages known as orks. The halfling working the desk at the inn gave you a fair price for the currency exchange services, making a friendly comment that his son has a pet frog upon seeing the snake-head gold coins. Apparently, they're used to the tall, dark, and mysterious type around these parts. Or whatever, at least you've been here three days and nothing bad has happened . . .

Larrin: you are presently residing in a fairly busy town of around 300 inhabitants - mostly dwarves and halflings, with a fair share of elves and men. there is the occasional half-elf, so you aren't too worried about racist leanings. well, no more than usual, after being chased out of the last village with torches and pitchforks when a barmaid speared her breast on a horn. :crazy-eye hehe had to throw that one in. anyways, you're about an hours trek south of the Way, in the foothills. The foothills being the area where the forest finally thins out and the ground rises up a little in preparation for the godforsaken mountains. thats the only word you can come up with for them after all the tales you've heard from the dwarves muttering about kobolds and giants. Thats one good thing. Dwarves tend to worry less about who you are and more of what good stories you have to share. And if you're buying the next round. But they complain a lot about how the kingdom won't last if the last king dies . . .

Corlaan: you're in the big city. So, you know the part about the northern areas being secluded and out of bounds for all but the rich and powerful. And the southern parts being shady. And the docks to the south of the town walls being dangerous for anyone who isn't with at least five friends. I'll be as nice as i have it in me to be. you get to pick two allies from any of the groups i've describen being present in the city. subtle hint: one should either be someone from the smuggler's thieves guild or from the third house of the town guard. you know, the one that is called mercenaries behind their backs, or that pepole whisper into their drinks "dey're nothin berrer'n a buncha bounny hunners" and the really brave ones might even let themselves think of them as bloodthirsty sellswords. The second ally, whoever you want, as descriptive and imaginative as you want, who isn't so much an ally as someone who has a healthy respect for you and wouldn't be adverse to helping you if the price was right and their neck wasn't too much on the line (or any combination thereof or somewhere in between). Not that i'm about to put a bounty on your head. Anyways, things are getting a little shady around town. You can't see it openly yet, but everyone knows there is going to be a new council voted in come Midsummer's Day. Being late spring at best its still months away, but the ball is definitely rolling. The training grounds have opened up in the East barracks, under the shadow of the main gate, and the hopeful lads without a better hope are anxiously surviving the weeding out process. The various noble merchants are plying their under-the-counter negotiations to buy votes, the select few even going so far as hiring 'persuaders'. And the headaches are getting worse.

[nubz]

Feston Dradon:

Its just past noon, and you're foaming at the mouth waiting for your lunch to finish roasting. The tantalizing sizzle of bacon is wafting across the clearing to you, and you're stomach growls out a pretty good summary of your mood right now.

You weren't planning to have wild boar for lunch, it just sort of worked out that way. The two of you were walking along a game trail through the woods, when suddenly you turned a corner around a tree, and there it was. Before you could think to react it charged you, head down and tusks out. Luckily your faithful sidekick was able to react in time, to shoulder you out of the way. And, in return, it was your young pup that got skewered by the boar, and now there's a gash running the length of his shoulder.

Looking at him, lying calmly in the clearing, trying to bend his neck to lick at the bandages you haphazardly wrapped around the wound, you remember how he charged off after the boar without even flinching, though the blood sprayed from his near-mortal wound the instant it occurred, and you're still wearing some of his blood on your sleeve. It was a viscious fight, the two of them darting through the trees. The boar kept trying to get the jump on your little worg, and almost did a few times, but the agile wolf was able to keep from getting gored again. When you finally caught up with the two of them, the battle was all but over, you just had to draw your Fang and take the last of its life as it lay writhing on the ground.

So now you sit by the fire, waiting for lunch, wondering if the wound is going to heal properly - when he stops eating, sniffs the air, and you watch the fur on his back raise up as he begins to growl.

[nubz]

Ven:

Its just past noon, and you're having a picnic as was suggested by one of your new friends. Dulgerr, the dwarf who runs the inn you've been staying at, told you about this hill a little ways outside of town that gives a great view of the countryside. And it does. Slightly north of the town, it allows you to look right over the peaceful little hustle and bustle. The rooftops all look the same, the buildings could have been bricks cut from the mountains for all the imagination put into them. The only one that looks even remotely impressive is the Smith's hut. A human, you've never caught his name, but you heard he trained with the dwarves, so he knows his stuff. His wife is a tanner, works with animal skins and whatnots, supposedly makes the nicest dresses this side of the ocean.

You're not sure why thats important, but it seems to be the most exciting thing to talk about in this town. Other then the usual warrior talk about battles that you're not sure if you can believe. But, looking further, you can just catch a glimpse of the great plains way off in the distance. The inkeep's wife said you can sometimes see the smoke coming from the Abbot's warhall, but you're pretty sure this isn't one of those times. And, from what you pieced together from various conversations, you can follow the course of the hillside about due south of where you are and you'll come to the hobgoblin's Fortress. - But, thats a few days march, so you're not exactly scared. Looking a little further north, you can see where the Way must be, for the trees grow a little taller along its edges. A strange thing about that road - even though the sun is well south of where you are, when you're on the Way, you can see it clearly, directly overhead. You pass it off as magic more powerful than you'd care to imagine, but that little voice inside your head insists that you will learn magicks which would make feats like that seem like child's tricks.

Looking due north, you see nothing but trees, even though you understand there are a fair share of elven settlements up there, one of them a fair sized city. And, to the east, you see the mountains rise up from the bowels of the earth to carve their way through the sky.

- And as you look east, you see a goblin with a hatchet climbing the hill you are sitting on. As your eyes lock with its, the little bugger lets out a war-cry that sounds like a goat that just tripped and broke its leg - and two of his friends coming up different sides of the hill take up the racket.

[nubz]

Scales:

You've been getting more and more inquisitive about your new world, but luckily, it seems to be okay. Everyone has been fairly friendly and helpful, except for a select few who everyone else says are "jerks anyways so just ignore them and they'll go away". You decided to take the two-hour hike to the riverside, see what all the fuss is about. You've heard how practically every able-bodied man (and half the women) take a turn patrolling the riverside at some point during the week.

You're surprised that the forest grows thick and old right to the edge of the river - barring a few stumps within about ten feet of the river, showing that some work has gone into keeping it clear. Across the river, you see a sea of golden grass. As the wind ripples across its surface, you find a whisper of peace in the tranquil waves - not like the revulsion and fear when you were watching the ocean swimming past the edges of the boat. A whisper of crimson can be seen through the wheatfields, firegrass they call it. One of the barkeeps said it makes for a great chili, and they don't call it firegrass for nothin. At which half the people in the bar joined in a chorus of "you'll be shootin fire out yer ass!". And you can tell the barkeep has used that joke one too many times before.

Looking downriver, you realize you're too far to see the ocean from here, so there's no chance of seeing the islands you recall when the boat was heading to the Bay. People had been whispering into their cups about water witches and elves living in the seaweed, and even a tale of a wizard who could control the tides. Whatever sort of land this is, its far from ordinary.

Looking upriver . . . you see a half dozen orcs on the far bank. There is a raft of sorts drawn up on their side, and one of them is swinging something over his head. You watch as he looses the axe, and near eighty feet of thick rope trails out behind it as it soars across the river. Cheers can be heard across the distance, so you know in a heartbeat that someone on the other side caught it. The rope is being looped through a pair of poles on the raft, and two orcs seem to have the job of anchoring their side of the rope ferry.

You can't see who caught the rope on this side of the river, there's the slightest hint of a bend in the way.

[nubz]

Corlaan:

waiting on your response, but until then . . .


You are walking through the city. its about two hours past midnight, which means guards change rotation in an hour. you're on your way back from a quick job - nothing too spectacular, you just watched a guy sell a statue for a large sum of money, so you followed him back, waited til night, and helped yourself to some of it. you came out of it with *rolling* the ivory inlaid chest that he stashed a really nice silver necklace in, as well as a pale yellow ruby and 15 gold pieces. Logic states he's some fancy artist and he was going to do something to put the gem in the necklace.

Anyways, as you're slipping down the side streets, idly fingering the necklace in your pocket and wondering where to get rid of the chest - it'd make a great jewelerry box or maybe a cigar case - you see a black cat wander across your path, stop right in the middle of it, sit down, and stare at you.

[Larrin]

Ven carefully assess the situation, it would seem the goblins have hostile intents, but perhaps they can be intimidated. ven postisions himslef so he can see all of them if he can, retreating down the hill if nessecary. He pulls off his hood revealing his horns, and pulls out his wand of mage armour, which he casts on himself, then calls out to the goblins, "Hold your step, wretched cur, and make not the same mistake others have made! I am not such easy prey!"(bluff check?)

if they continue,and if he has time before they reach him, he unleashes a magic missle on the nearest one, if they do reach him, he tries to keep them all on the same side and casts burning hands, getting as many of them in the cone of fire as he can.

[nubz]

Ven:

They are evenly spread out over the hill, coming at you from all sides. you're no battle expert, but running doesn't seem an option. you are pretty sure that you can knock off a spell before they get to you, but the second one is questionable since they're running fast. Oh, and they either don't speak 'common' or they just don't understand the big words and want to kill you anyways.

You chant your words and release the chaos. The magic missile goes reeling down the hill (does it matter which one?) and takes one goblin full in the chest. There's a little bit of a 'zap' and it screams as it goes tumbling back down the hill. When it hits the bottom, its not moving. (you got exactly 4 hps, the fall just made sure it died). The other two are just about to come to the crest of the hill, they're about 15 feet away. They'll be on you in another few heartbeats, logic states you can either start casting your spell, and release it as they crest the hill, or you've got your escape route carved out now.

Des stops in his tracks, ignoring the headaches for a moment, and stares at the cat with his slightly grey eyes, examining it closely with his darkvision sight.

Making sure he has a good grip on the small ivory chest secured under one arm, and sneaks his free hand to the hilt of Stiehl, just in case.

[Death Cobra]

Scales checks around to see if there are any other patroling the river as well, preferably archers. If so he quickly mavuevers to notify them of the dealings along the banks, and tells him to get archers if not one already. If cant find anyone or right after, Scales moves back around to be able to see who or what had caught the line on this side of the river. And if possible un latch the line to buy at least some small amount of time for possible archer back up.

[Cain]

Feston stands up and looks to Strike (yep thats the worg's name) as he draws out Fang.
"I'd be just our luck if it is it's mate wouldn't it?"
He then be gins to scan the area in the direction Strike was looking when he began to growl.