# The Canterbury Tales- Chapter 4: Dead Drunk



## Deuce Traveler (Nov 23, 2009)

The caravan you have joined is set to leave Damascus, a situation you have mixed feelings about.  On the one hand, Damascus is dirty, crime ridden and age-worn and though you travel with some cattle the smell can only get fresher once you leave these streets.  On the other hand, Damascus has a certain character to it that you know you won't find elsewhere.  The ancient Romans left their marks upon the roads of the city that are smoothed by the ages.  The defensive walls must have been torn down several times because they are a mish-mash of materials and differing conditions.  One long stretch of the western wall is said to have been built by Alexander the Great himself, though now that you dwell on such a fact you realize that he most likely commissioned the building of it if he had indeed been involved rather than been the actual builder.  

The population is mixed ethnically, as the city has been a crossroads that has brought great wealth at times and great tragedy at others.  Just a generation ago the city suffered greatly from the Plague and political turmoil.  Now the city seems to have recovered somewhat as you would consider it bustling with moderate traffic.  There are rumors of possible wars with numerous factions that surround Damascus, but the locals aren't terrified by the talk and are indeed the largest gossips.  You have to give the people and the city credit.  If there was ever a people and city that has suffered, yet survived to rise again it is Damascus.  Perhaps that is why the legend of the phoenix holds such sway in this region.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the caravan master, Alfred Fayweather, who is giving commands to a few of his hired hands as they harness the wagons.  The man has replaced his finer clothes that he wore while talking business at the market and is now dressed in a coarser fashion more suitable to the dusty trails that the caravan will traverse.  Though trade flows freely through these lands, most people do not travel far from a city when in small groups.  Here, as in Europe, wars and misrule have allowed banditry to flourish.  A large number of odd and varying travelers, mostly fellow Britons, have decided to join with Fayweather's caravan.  There is a knight and his squire in dust-covered but sturdy armor, a baker whose smirk and laugh betray a bawdy sense of humor, a woman approaching the elder years who wields a critical frown, and so on.


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## ethandrew (Nov 23, 2009)

Francis leaned down and beat the bottom of his black pants, causing the dry dirt and attached filth to break free and fly. "I hate Damascus," he complained under his breath.

He liked the rain. This heat, the dry lands, well, it didn't suit him. It put him in a dour mood and seemingly always put him on edge, short tempered. He flicked his hair back out of his eyes and used his off hand to help push it back. If he was going to be in this sun he was at least going to evenly darken his face, no white foreheads for him.

With his rapier on his hip, a dagger and sap hidden on his waistband, and a crossbow nearby with his traveling pack, Francis appeared ready. Who knew about his charge, though. Francis was sure that there was still much work to be done before _he_ would be ready, as was always the case. Trunks of false relics, perfumes, and liquor, as well as other various valuable he was sure to have picked up whilst here in Damascus. A pardoner's life was always interesting, which meant that a pardoner's assistant's life was always work, work, work.


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## Theroc (Nov 27, 2009)

Alwyn departed Damascus with a somewhat heavy heart, knowing that the chances were if he should every return, what little magic in Damascus would be buried under the heel of Christianity.  He was not particularly fond of the weather, but the history of Damascus and it's ties to deities besides the mundane 'God' left the wanting climate very little of an annoyance for the boy.  He felt somewhat at ease here, as if the spirits were watching.  He'd definitely need to find a place to be alone and make his daily covenant with the old Gods, praying for a safe journey.

He seemed not particularly well prepared for a long journey, but he felt he'd make due.  He had learned to use his religion and his somewhat taller frame to intimidate those less strong of will, or to honey his tongue to facilitate better bargains.


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 28, 2009)

Duncan is busy adjusting the straps on his own horse, Gaoth, as the caravan master was rushing to and fro. 

The young Scot had long since lost track of the last group he had protected on the way to this haphazard city, but it was time for him to head out and fulfill his duty once again. And since larger merchant groups presented tempting targets to brigands, this seemed like a good one to go with. He wasn't even interested in payment, though it would be accepted if offered.

The young man hitches his belt up, brushing his heavy club as he does. He looks across the assembling caravan party with a slight smile. Scholars, traders and porters to his eye... It was probably going to be a good thing he was here.

As Duncan's horse snorts and stamps a hoof, he reaches out and pats the equine's neck. "Easy Gaoth. We'll be on the road again shortly."


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## Fenris (Nov 28, 2009)

Sir Ricard Goodlake was in high spirits. He had made the trip down to Damascus without incident, made his necessary devotions and was headed home. Not that Damascus was bad, the order's headquarters was here, and it was a place of ancient honor and wonder. Still he longed for home. 

So with one last check of his sword and armor he waited with the others for Alfred to finally get the caravan moving.


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## Deuce Traveler (Nov 30, 2009)

The ragtag caravan took form within the next 30 minutes, consisting of four wagons, a dozen mules and about five dozen men and women looking mostly from England.  Their various tales on how they came to Damascus should make for some entertainment.  Alfred Fayweather and his men finish with their own laden wagon, freeing the caravan leader to walk through the crowd and politely position the people into a loose column.  Some of the travelers have a sharper tongue than others, but Alfred shows deftness in how he handles their concerns and yet extricates himself so that he may speed up the preparations.

Finally he seems satisfied and shouts for all to hear in a voice used to command, *"Fellow travelers, we are leaving Damascus now.  Please stay in the column and keep the pace.  I will be taking the lead and if there is any trouble just pass the word up and I will make sure you are care of.  At this time I would like to ask for a handful of volunteers to scout the trail ahead for damaged roads or bandits.  Some men that can handle themselves in the face of trouble.  No, not you sir knight.  I would prefer to keep your trained expertise with the column in case something gets by the scouts,*" Alfred says to an armed and burly gentleman who nods in deference and steps back into the column as fast as he had stepped forth.

At this point a handful of men stepped forth (the player characters) and were accepted as the caravan's scouts for this leg of the journey.

OOC: I figure you can introduce yourselves now to one another.  The party will be travelling briskly ahead of the caravan to place themselves in scouting distance in my next post.


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 30, 2009)

Duncan quickly stepped forward, leading Gaoth behind, a broad smile on his face. He looks around as others step up to scout ahead. Once it seems no one else will volunteer, he nods in deference to the caravan leader and turns to his new companions, still smiling.

"Well met, all. Name's Duncan Reed, and it's a pleasure to travel with you back across these lands. Speaking of which, we'd best get a move on quickly, or that one's likely to burst," he says with a chuckle and a jerk over his shoulder with his thumb, pointing at Fayweather.

He quickly steps onto one of Gaoth's stirrups and swings his other leg over the horse.

"And so, ready when you are."


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## Theroc (Dec 2, 2009)

Alwyn stepped forward himself, nodding faintly.  "I am Alwyn, and I can aid in scouting forays if needed.  I assure you I am more capable than I appear.  I will just need a moment alone to pray..."  He stated simply, attempting to find a solitary place in which to make his prayers to the Gods, praying for the spirit of a betrayer to grant his great protection to this mortal vessel, allowing the spirit to once more experience the world as a living being, through himself.  

"Savnok, I summon thee, betrayer of Gods, thief of protection... I offer a chance to steal mortal senses in exchange for protection from harm this day..."  The young man muttered as he drew the seal in the ground before him, awaiting to see of the Deity revealed himself, or if he would grant a sign.


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## Fenris (Dec 2, 2009)

"Richard Goodlake" says the young man in armor taking Duncan's hand. "I am sure we shall all be needed to help on this trip, roads are never as safe as one would want."


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## ethandrew (Dec 2, 2009)

Francis was busy weighing the merits of joining the scouting party versus staying with the caravan, where he might possibly ingratiate himself with one of the more attractive ladies accompanying the voyage. But it was then that he heard the effeminate voice of the Pardoner calling out a flirtatious, _"Sissy,"_ when the decision was quite easy to make.

Stepping forward to the caravan-master, the young man smiled, acquiescing his services. Once assembled with the scouting group, he shakes hands with the others, "I am Francis, and I serve the Church, a vassal of the Pope, if you will. Though unfortunately I don't have a horse," he states to Duncan.


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 6, 2009)

The introductions are given and the scouting party heads off at a brisk pace compared to the steady walking speed of the caravan and its creeking wagon.  The road north is built upon the ruins of an old Roman road which has been partially patched throughout the ages with new brick and packed earth.  The party notices that the caravan kicks up a dusty cloud behind it as it also exits Damascus.  Small plots of farms are along either side of the road and continue for at least a mile, while becoming less frequent and tightly packed the further from the city walls.

OOC: Just a filler post to move things along.  Action starts next DM post.


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 8, 2009)

Alwyn
[sblock]
As you finished drawing the symbol into the ground, you saw the barely existent phantasm of a streaking, black arrow passing over the sign.  You bite your lip as in the next instant a wave of pain moves up your left forearm and you see what looks to be a tiny arrow just under your skin.  Ignoring the pain as best as you can, you look back to the emblem to see several arrows have pierced the symbol, which runs red from its wounds.  A red silhouette forms from the blood inside the emblem and a remorseful voice runs in your mind.

_Answer this riddle, son of Adam, son of Remus, son of Zeus, son of Woden, son of the first of men:

I am the ravager of the young,
ruiner of cities,
destroyer of civilizations,
and smoter of elder races.

I have waited for the trees,
I have changed rivers,
I have smoothed hills,
I have worn down mountains.

I am the ally of death,
but even death will not last me.
What am I?
_
[/sblock]


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## HolyMan (Dec 8, 2009)

Sitting alone along the trail that the carvan would soon be coming across, the scouts notice a young man in a long sleevless trench coat. Using his suitcase as a seat the man holds a hat box on his knees and seems to be speaking to it. He voulminous white sleeve shirt, and noble bearing speaks of the aristocity, but his lack of jewerly or color in his outfit clash with this assumption.

[sblock=ooc]hope you don't mind the change in what I did thought it would be better to be with the PC's [/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 8, 2009)

Duncan pulls up to the lone man, sitting along the road. He reins in his horse and laughs good-naturedly, calling out, "Ho there, my friend! Greetings to you on this grand day! You look to be one who has packed to leave Damascus, yet I see no other travellers. Are you, perhaps, lost or injured?"


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## HolyMan (Dec 8, 2009)

Still staring at the hat box for a moment, the young man looks up in bewilderment. "Hmm.. Oh sorry," he says in English though his accent is strange. "Just making sure my.. umm, hat box was secure."

"Greetings to you sir," he says standing hat box in hand. "I am indeed trying to leave Damascus. I am Professor Reginal Smiley, and it seems I have missed the caravan I was suppose to join on it's way to Canterbury, for they are not here."

He looks about sadly, "This is all your fault," he says to the hat box.


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## ethandrew (Dec 8, 2009)

Francis gives the odd man a once over, eying him suspiciously with a hand to his waist, ready to grab a dagger if the need arises. "You've missed naught, Goodman Smiley," the young man states coolly and not altogether kindly. "It seems you picked an odd spot to wait, ripe for the plucking of bandits. You know they like to kidnap your sort and use your organs for black magicks, hmm?"


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## Theroc (Dec 8, 2009)

Alwyn winced, before pondering the voice in his mind, the riddle it gave.  The only thing that came to mind, was the very thing that seemed to be erasing the Old Gods themselves.

_Time.  _The boy thought in response, before repeating it in a soft whisper to the bleeding symbol.  "Time."  He awaited anxiously for the result of his solution.

[sblock=OOC]
Seems Invisiblecastle is having issues again.  Alwyn's binding check is 1d20+4, if you'd prefer to roll it rather than wait, Deuce.[/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 10, 2009)

The scouting party continued north and through some twisting terrain.  Within a few hours they bridged such a distance between the caravan and themselves that the winding of the road and hills blocked the view between the two groups.  Richard Goodlake estimated a distance of about a mile and a half between the scouts and the front caravan wagon.

It was difficult to see the occassional farm on either side of the road, but every so often the high ground dipped down low enough to give a glimpse.  The farms were definitely almost non-existant this far from Damascus.

Duncan was the first to hear the violent smack of wood against flesh somewhere over the hills to his left.  The smack was followed by a large grunt of pain.  As the smacks continued, Francis heard it next followed by the professor and Alwyn.  There was some kind of combat near, about 50 meters off the road and over a hill blocking your view.

Alwyn
[sblock]
"Time...," the red figure wailed.  "Yes, time.  Time has bonded me for so long, yet will one day take me and end this existence.  You show some wisdom and perhaps you will therefore achieve what I achieved while avoiding my fate.  I will allow your will to bend my own."  The figure disappeared as you felt a surge of power from a successful bind.
[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 10, 2009)

Duncan immediately stiffened in his saddle. He called back to the others, "Sounds like battle!" As he looks back over his shoulder at them, everyone can see the wide grin on his face. He bends to the side and pulls a lance free, settling it in the crook of his arm for now.

He turns his horse to the noise and starts Gaoth walking along the way. He keeps a slow enough pace that all the foot-walkers can keep up, but it's rather obvious he wants to rush ahead and at least see what's going on...


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## HolyMan (Dec 11, 2009)

Walking along suitcase in one hand and hat box in the other, the professor who had joined the group for fear of the bandits mentioned started looking around turning in a small circle. The tails of his trench coat twirling out as he spun. "Combat, oh dear!" he exclaims. Seeing the warriors start off the trail he looks around as he is left behind. "Oh dear," he repeats with a sigh and starts to follow the group.


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 11, 2009)

The party charges over the hill, expecting to see a field of battle and chaos.  Instead they see an old man in tattered farmer's clothes standing on a worn walking trail and facing the back end of a scrawny, chud-chewing cow.  The farmer grunts loudly as he swings a thin wooden cane to the back of the cow, which creates a loud smack.  He cries out loudly once more as he raises his arm and arches his creaking back to strike again.  Upon seeing the party approach him at the bottom of the hill, he yells, "Oh thank Allah!  Warriors!  Come quick! We must defeat this monster before he kills again!"


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## Theroc (Dec 11, 2009)

As Alwyn saw the 'battle' his expression notably dropped as he looked confusedly at the man, approaching to speak in a level voice.

"Why don't you tell me why you're beating a defenseless cow?  I see no monster here..."  He murmured, searching for some signs of magic or deception as he rubbed the sore part of his arm, before letting his tunic cover it from sight again.  If a battle would erupt, the boy would call upon the Betrayer to protect him as he was promised, then strike assured at his success.


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## ethandrew (Dec 11, 2009)

Francis looked disapprovingly at the man, but not because he was beating a cow, or seemed deranged. He did, afterall, praise Allah. Not that Francis was a pious man at all, quite the contrary. Working closely and being around the church for so long has left him a little jaded, seeing how truly corruptible men can be in the name of God. But he can't quite recall ever seeing any of them beating a cow with a cane.

"Sir, I beseech you, let us take this wretched monster off your hands where we can slaughter it without sullying its filthy blood on your fertile soil," Francis lies, with the full intent of using this cow for milk or meat, or if possible, a trusty steed.


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## HolyMan (Dec 12, 2009)

Winded from his run up the hill the Professor puts down his suitcase and tries to catch his breath. *pant* *pant* "Umm... it's a cow." he says noticing the man and his cane.


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## Fenris (Dec 12, 2009)

Richard followed the group along as well and rounding the hill took in the scene. He smiled as he saw the man with the cow. But he waited to speak until the farmer spoke yet further.


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 12, 2009)

The man strikes the cow once more with his cane, elliciting another grunt from him and a bored tail switch of the cow's tail.  He pokes Alwyn in the chest with his cane, and says of the female animal, "He's not just a cow.  He's a fell beast.  A hellspawn cow!"  Eyeing Francis suspiciously he retorts, "Oh take the cow away to slaughter, huh?  More like take him to safety, I bet!  Does the cow speak to you?  Are you his servant or his doom?"  The man begins to froth himself into an angry lather.


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 12, 2009)

Duncan's is momentarily crestfallen as he sees it's only a farmer driving a cow before him. As he listens to the old man, Duncan grows slightly confused. While he remembered his cousins cursing and cursing about their cattle, he'd never heard somebody actually claim a beast to be hellspawn. Remaining silent and skeptical, Duncan watched the old man carefully. Over his time on the road, he'd learned how to "read" people, after a fashion, and tried to learn a little more about the man, and his cow, through studying both of them. His eyes also brush over his companions, remembering how it always helps to study your fellow travelers also...

[sblock=OOC]
Coming up with a justification for Detect Evil... Doing a surreptitious scan of everyone in the vicinity, starting with the farmer and cow, and going over everyone else afterwards...
[/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 15, 2009)

Duncan
[sblock]
The cow, the farmer, nor your comrades radiate a feeling of evil.
[/sblock]

"You're in on it, aren't you?!  You're in league with him!  Well I'll show you!  I'll take you all on!"  The old man lifts his cane and swings a downward thrust at Francis, who easily dodges to the side.  The excitement seems to much for the farmer, though, for as he stops his clumsy charge and regains his balance he clutches at his chest, wheezes, and falls flat onto his back.  His body twitches, then lies still as the man seems to collapse from a heart attack.  As the party stares in astonishment, the only sound that can be heard is the wind and a cow bell as the nearby animal continues its chewing.


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 15, 2009)

Duncan gasps, completely taken by surprise as the old man suddenly keels over. The young man quickly dismounts and tries to help the old man up, even though he's pretty sure there's no use. Still, it's in his nature... After trying to give some assistance and determining the man is far beyond his help, Duncan looks at his companions and the cow. 

The young Scot shrugs, saying, "It seems like a perfectly normal cow to me... I would suggest we try to find the old man's home, even if it's just to return the cow to any family he may have." 

He walks back to Gaoth and swings up into the saddle again.


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## Fenris (Dec 16, 2009)

"At least we know Francis can deal with any more old farmers we meet" says Richard wryly, though with a smile that shows he was only making a jest.
"Still I believe Duncan is right, it will be bad enough to lose the head of the household, best to make sure they have the cow."


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## ethandrew (Dec 16, 2009)

"Yeah, did you see that? I killed him with my mind," Francis states dryly. He seems calm and impassive, his heart-rate never really registered that he was nearly beaten like a hellspawn cow.


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 17, 2009)

Following the trail in the direction it seemed the farmer came from, the party reaches a the burnt ruins of a barn and connected farmhouse a few hundred yards away.  The farmhouse and barn have blackened walls that are falling apart and the roofs have completely fallen away.  Two graves have been recently placed in front of what was once the house door.  The fields of wheat are unharmed, however, and there are two intact sacks of grain that were far enough from the barn that they remained unburnt.


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## Theroc (Dec 17, 2009)

Alwyn blinked at the scene, trying to follow up on the events.

"So, a farmer beats on a cow he claims is hellspawn, dies without a visible cause... and the only nearby home is burned to cinder?  I'll assume the farmer blamed the cow for the fire... and the graves... but... is there really something strange about the cow, or just an old man seeking meaning in his grief?"


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## ethandrew (Dec 17, 2009)

Francis shrugs at the situation and Alwyn's rhetorics, "In his grief he forsook his belief and was punished thusly." He pauses and inspects the unharmed sacks of grain. Standing up he states casually, "We should bring the grain and the cow back to the caravan, but first I'd like to see what started this fire. Could be bandits wanting grain, the cow, or possibly worse." His voice drops low as his gaze moves to the graves.

Without waiting to hear the other responses, Francis moves toward the barn and looks to see what could have started this blaze that took this family.

He will take a 20, so total search of 27.


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## HolyMan (Dec 18, 2009)

"I think he died of myocardial infarction." the Professor says as the others study the grounds around the farm. "A few cases have been reported in the Indies of old men dropping dead, their hearts just stopped working." The Professor takes a seat on a wood spliters stump his bags resting on either side of him.


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 19, 2009)

It doesn't take long for the party to find the source of what caused the fire.  In the barn near the remains of a cow's pen, where the charred remains are evidence of the most damage, the party finds a lantern with a large dent in its side.  Something blunt must have struck or kicked the lantern and started the blaze, ultimately consuming the cow pen, the barn, the house, and perhaps even the two people in the graves.


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## Dragonwriter (Dec 19, 2009)

Duncan takes a look around, even though he's not the most perceptive... 

"Hm. So he probably blamed the cow for kicking over this lantern and starting the fire. Any cow will kick something, especially when it's mad or scared. They can easily break a bone with a kick, so knocking over and denting a lantern wouldn't be hard at all. We might as well take them back to the caravan. I'm sure Fayweather wouldn't mind another beast of burden and food supply, in addition to more feed for the other animals."


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 22, 2009)

With little else to do, the group brings back the cow and the grain to the caravan which was just beginning to catch up to their location.  "Ah good!  I don't have an oven with me on this trip, of course, but I could use the campfire tonight to make some food with the milk and grain," a portly Baker from the caravan stated after the scouting party explained what they had found.

"It's unfortunate that the farmer seemed to go mad and pass away, however.  Though a heathen, I'll make sure he is given a fitting burial," the Knight who volunteered to help scout early in the morning offered and refused to continue until the job was done.  

When he came back he had to deal with some snickering from the baker who had just finished up a loaf of bread using some of the new grain.  "So, did the farmer thank you, perhaps?  If he did, was it worth the delay to bury the heathen?"

"It was an honorable thing to do, which makes me a better person in the eyes of God and the one I love.  If God was watching he might feel I should be welcomed in heaven.  And if my fair wife was watching over me and this compassionate act she would approve, and it would be another way to earn her love."

"Honor?  Please, what is honor except a silly code.  And love is not but a squeamish word for lust."  The caravan could not continue as it was growing too late, so campfires were being made.  The knight seemed to be in deep thought to the Baker's question, but when the crowd gathered round the center fire he began a story...

Here begins the Knight's Tale.

[sblock]

"And now Theseus, drawing close to his native land in a laurelled chariot after fierce battle with the people, is heralded by glad applause and the shouts of the people flung to the heavens and the merry trump of warfare that has reached its end."

 Long ago, as old histories tell us, there was a duke called Theseus, lord and ruler of Athens, and in his time such a conqueror that there was none greater under the sun. He had subdued many rich countries, and with his wisdom and his knighthood had conquered all the realm of the Amazons, the land of women, which formerly was called Scythia. He wedded the Queen Hippolyta and brought her home with him to his country in great glory and pomp, and her young sister Emily with her. And thus with victory and melody I leave this noble duke riding on to Athens, with his entire host in arms with him.

 And if it were not too long to hear, surely I would have told you fully how the realm of the Amazons was won by Theseus and his knightly valor; and, while I was about it, of the great battle between the Athenians and the Amazons; how Hippolyta was besieged, the fair, hardy queen of the Scythians; of her wedding-feast, and of the tempest at her homecoming. But all that I must withhold now; God knows, I have a large field to plough, and my oxen are weak. The remainder of my tale is long enough, and I would also not hinder any of this company; let every comrade in turn tell his tale, and let us see who shall win the supper. And where I left off I will begin again.

 When this duke had come close to the town in all his triumph and highest pomp, he cast his eye at one side and noticed a company of ladies, clad in black, kneeling in the highway, two by two. But they made such a cry and woe that no living creature in this world ever heard another such one; nor would they stop this crying until they had caught the reins of his bridle.

 "What people are you who disturb the festival of my homecoming thus with lamentations?" said Theseus. "Have you so great ill-will toward my honors that you so complain and cry? Or who has done you ill? Tell me if it may be amended. And why you are thus clothed in black?

 The eldest lady of them all spoke (but first she swooned with such a deathly look that it was pitiful to see): "Lord, to whom Fortune has granted victory and to live as a conqueror, your glory and honor grieves us not. We beg for aid and for mercy upon our woe and distress. From your nobility let some drop of pity fall upon us wretched women; for surely, there is none of us, lord, who has not been a queen or a duchess. Now are we poor wretches, as you may see, thanks to Fortune and her false wheel that does not ensure prosperity to any estate. And surely, lord, here in the temple of the goddess Clemency we have been this entire fortnight awaiting your coming.

 "Now help us, lord, since it is within your power! I, wretch that I am, thus weeping and wailing, was once wife to King Capaneus, who perished at Thebes--cursed be the day! And we who are in this plight and make this lament all lost our husbands while the siege lay about that town. And now, alack, old Creon who is now lord of Thebes, full of anger and iniquity, by his tyrannical malice has drawn the dead bodies of our slain lords upon a heap, to do them indignity, and will allow them by no means to be either buried or burned, but in scorn gives them to hounds to eat."

 And with that word, without more ado, they all fell on their faces and cried piteously, "Have some mercy upon us wretched women, and let our woe sink into your heart!"

 The noble duke sprang from his charger with a pitying heart, when he heard them speak; his heart nearly broke when he saw them who had once been of high degree so piteous and cast down. And he raised them all up in his arms and comforted them kindly, and swore an oath that, as he was a true knight, he would strive to take such vengeance upon the tyrant Creon that all the people of Greece should tell how he was treated by Theseus, as a man that had well merited his death. And very swiftly, without more delay, he unfurled his banner and rode forth to Thebes with his entire host. No nearer to Athens would he travel, nor take his ease half a day, but spent that night along the route to Thebes, and sent Hippolyta the queen and Emily her fair young sister to wait in the town of Athens; and then onward he rode. There is no more to be told.

 The red image of Mars with spear and shield so shone upon his broad white banner that all the fields glittered all over. And by his banner was borne his pennant of rich gold, on which was hammered out the Minotaur, which he had slain in Crete. Thus rode this duke, this conqueror, and in his host all the flower of chivalry, until he came to Thebes and dismounted in a beautiful open field where he thought to fight. To tell shortly of this matter, he fought with Creon, King of Thebes, like a worthy knight, and slew him in manly fashion in open battle, and put his people to rout. And then by assault he won the city and tore down wall and beam and rafter. He restored to the ladies the bones of their husbands, to perform their rituals which were then the custom. But it would be entirely too long to tell the clamor and lament of the ladies at the burning of the bodies, and the great honor done them by the noble conqueror Theseus, when they departed from him. To be brief is my entire wish.

 When this worthy duke had slain Creon and thus won Thebes, he took his rest in the field all that night and then dealt with all that country as he wished.

 After the battle and defeat, the pillagers were busy to search through the heaps of dead, to strip them of harness and garments; and so it happened that in the heap they came upon two young knights, lying near each other, pierced through and through by many grievous, bloody wounds, both bearing arms of one style, richly fashioned; of these two, the one was called Arcite and the other knight Palamon. They were not fully alive nor fully dead, but by their escutcheons and their accoutrements the heralds knew them among the rest to be of the royal blood of Thebes and born of two sisters. Out of the heap the pillagers dragged them, and bore them softly to Theseus' tent. And he dispatched them immediately to Athens to dwell in prison perpetually; he would take no ransom. And when this worthy duke had done this, swiftly he rode homeward with his entire host, crowned with laurel like a conqueror, and there in joy and honor he lived to the end of his life; what need of more words? And Palamon and Arcite in a tower dwelt in anguish and woe; no gold could free them.

 This passed on by day and by year until it happened, once upon a May morning before daybreak, that Emily, who was fairer to see than the lily upon its green stalk, and fresher than May with its new flowers (Her cheeks competed with the rose--I know not which was the fairer.) Emily, I say, as was her custom, had arisen and was already dressed, for May will have no sluggishness at night. The season pricks every gentle heart and arouses it out of sleep and says, "Arise, and make your observance." Thus Emily remembered to rise and do honor to May. She was freshly clothed and her yellow hair was braided in a tress behind her back, a yard long, I believe; and in the garden at sunrise she walked up and down gathering the red and white flowers at will, to make a delicate garland for her head; and she sang heavenly, like an angel.

 This great tower so thick and strong, where the knights were imprisoned, was the chief dungeon of the castle and joined with the wall of the garden where Emily was amusing herself. Clear was the morning and bright was the sun, and Palamon, the woeful prisoner, had risen and by his jailer's permission, as was his habit, was pacing in a chamber on high, from which he saw all the noble city, and the garden as well, full of its green branches, where this fresh Emily was walking and rambling up and down. Palamon, the sorrowful prisoner, went about pacing to and fro in the chamber, complaining to himself of his misery. Often he cried, Alas that he was born! And so it happened, by chance or luck, that through a window set thick with many iron bars, great and square as any beam, he cast his eye upon Emily, and therewith he started and cried "Ah!," as though he were stricken through the heart.

 And at that cry Arcite quickly started up and said, "Dear cousin, what ails you that you are so pale and deathlike to look upon? Why did you cry out? Who has done you harm? For the love of God, take our prison all in patience, for it may not be otherwise. This adversity was given to us by Fortune. Some evil aspect or disposition of Saturn by some constellation has given us this, though we had vowed it should not be. So stood the heavens when we were born, and we must endure it; this is all."

 This Palamon answered then, "Cousin, in truth this thought of yours is vainly imagined. This prison caused not my groan. I have received just now a wound through my eye into my heart, one that will be my death. The fairness of that lady, whom I see yonder in the garden roaming back and forth, is the cause of all my crying and pains. I know not whether she is a woman or a goddess; but in truth I believe it is Venus. With that he fell upon his knees and said, "Venus, if it is your will to transfigure yourself here in this garden thus before me, a sorrowful wretched creature, help us to escape out of this prison. But if my destiny is decreed by eternal word that I shall die in prison, have some compassion upon our lineage that is brought so low by tyranny."

 And upon that, Arcite observed where this lady roamed here and there, and the sight of her beauty so hurt him that, if Palamon was sorely wounded, Arcite was hurt as much or worse; and he said piteously with a sigh, "The fair beauty of her who roams in yonder spot suddenly slays me, and if I will not have her pity and her grace, at least to see her, I am dead; there is no more to say."

 When Palamon heard these words, he looked at him furiously and answered, "Do you say this in earnest or sport?"

 "No, in earnest, by my faith," said Arcite. "So God help me, I have very little stomach for sport!"

 This Palamon began to knit his brows. "It would be no great honor to you," he said, "to be false or a traitor to me your cousin and one who is sworn deeply to be your brother; as each of us is pledged that never, until death may part us two, even if we die by torture, shall either of us hinder the other in love or in any case, dear brother; but that you should faithfully further me in every case, as I shall further you. This was your oath, and, surely, mine also; I know very well, you dare not deny it. Thus you are pledged to be my trusty friend, and now you would falsely be about loving my lady, whom I love and serve and ever shall until my heart may die. Now, surely, false Arcite, you shall not do so. I loved her first and told you my pain, as if to my trusty friend and my brother who has pledged to help me, as I said. Therefore you are bound as a knight to help me if you can, or you are false, I dare say."

 Arcite spoke again proudly: "You will be seen to be false before I am; and you are false, I tell you flatly. For with earthly love I loved her before you did. What will you say? You did not know even now whether she were a goddess or a woman. Yours is affection for holiness, and mine is love for a living creature; for this I told you my case, as if to my cousin and sworn brother. You make the case that you loved her first. Do you not know well the old clerk's saying, "Who sets a law on a lover?" By my skull, love is a greater law than can be given to any man on the earth. And therefore all human law and decrees and similar things are broken every day for love by people in every station of life. A man must love in spite of all he could do! He cannot flee it, even if he should die, whether she is a maiden, married, or widow. And you are not likely as well to stand in her grace all your life, and no more shall I; for you know full well that you and I are doomed to prison perpetually, and no ransom shall help us. We strive like the hounds that fought all day for the bone and won nothing; amid all their rage a kite came and bore away the bone from between them. Therefore at the king's court each man for himself is the only rule, my brother. Love if you will, for I love and ever shall, dear brother, and truly this is all. We must remain here in this prison and each of us must take his chance!"

 Great and long was the strife between them, if I had the leisure to tell it; but to the point. It happened one day, to tell it you shortly, that a worthy duke named Perotheus, a friend to duke Theseus since they were little children, had come to Athens to visit his fellow, as he was accustomed, and to amuse himself. For he so loved no other man in this world, and Theseus loved him as tenderly. So well they loved that when the one was dead, in very truth his friend went and sought him down in hell, as the old books say. But I do not wish to write that story. Duke Perotheus loved Arcite well, and had known him at Thebes many years. Finally, at the prayer of Perotheus, Duke Theseus released him from prison without ransom, to go freely where he wished on such terms as I shall tell you. This in short was the agreement of Arcite, that if ever in his life he were found by day or night in any realm of Theseus and were caught, he should lose his head by the sword. There would be no better remedy or course of action; but he took his leave and hurried homeward. Let him beware, his neck lies as a pledge!

 How great is Arcite's sorrow now! He feels death stab him through his heart. He weeps, wails, piteously cries, and watches for a time to slay himself in private. He said, "Alas, the day that I was born! Now is my prison worse than ever; now I am doomed forever not to purgatory but to hell. Alas, that ever I knew Perotheus; otherwise I would have dwelt with Theseus evermore fettered in his prison. Then I would have been in bliss, not woe. Though I would never win the grace of her whom I serve, only the sight of her would have sufficed me well enough. O dear cousin Palamon, yours is the victory in this thing. Blissfully may you dwell in prison. In prison? No, in paradise, surely. Well has Fortune cast the die for you, who have the sight of her, as I only have the absence! For it is possible, since you are near her and are a knight, a worthy and an able one, by some chance of changeful Fortune you may sometime attain your desire. But I who am exiled and so barren of all grace and hope that neither earth, water, fire nor air, nor any creature made of them, can help or give me comfort, well may I die in distress and despair! Farewell, my life, my joy and gladness!

 "Alas, why do people complain so generally of God's providence or of Fortune, who so often gives them in many ways better luck than they could choose for themselves? One man desires riches, which become the cause of his murder or great sickness. Another would gladly be out of prison; and at home he is slain by his household. In this is infinite peril; we do not know here what thing we pray for. We manage like a man drunk as a rat; a drunken man knows well that he has a house, but not the right way to that place, and for him the path to it is slippery.

 "Surely, so we get along in this world. We seek diligently after felicity, but in truth often go wrong. Thus may we all say, and chiefly I, that supposed and had a great notion that if I could escape from prison I would in well-being and perfect joy, where now I am exiled from my happiness. Since I cannot see you, Emily, I am but dead; nothing can cure me."

 On the other hand, Palamon, when he knew Arcite was gone, made such sorrow that the great tower resounded with his clamor and lament, and even the fetters about his great shins were wet with his bitter, salt tears. "Alas!" he said, "my cousin Arcite, the profit of all our strife is yours, God knows. You walk now at large in Thebes, and give little thought to my woe. With your wisdom and manhood you may assemble all the people of our kindred and make such sharp war upon this city that by some chance or treaty you may have her as wife and lady for whom I must die. For by way of possibilities, your advantage is great, since you are a lord and at large and free from prison, above mine, since I die here in a cage. While I live I must weep and wail with all the woe of a prisoner, and with the pain that love gives me as well, which doubles all my torment." With that the fire of jealousy blazed up within his breast and seized him so madly by the heart that he was livid as a box-tree to look upon, or as the dead and cold ashes.

 Then he said, "O cruel gods, that govern this world with the bond of your eternal word, and write your laws and eternal decrees upon tables of adamant, how is mankind more bound unto you than the sheep that cowers in the fold? Man is slain like any beast, and dwells in prison and constraint, and is sick and in adversity, and often guiltless, in faith. What just governance is in this Providence that so torments the innocent? And yet this increases all my pain, that man is bound to his duty, for God's sake to refrain from his desires, where a beast may fulfill all its pleasure. And when a beast is dead, its trouble is past, but after death a man must weep and lament though he has had worry and woe in this world. Without doubt it may be thus; the answer to all this I leave to theologians, but well I know that on this earth there is great sorrow! Alas! I see a serpent or a thief, one that has done mischief to many faithful men, go at large and where he wishes. But I must be in prison on account of Saturn and the jealous rage of Juno, who has destroyed nearly all the blood of Thebes and laid waste its wide walls. And on the other hand, Venus slays me for jealousy and fear of Arcite."

 Now for a time will I leave Palamon ever lying in prison, and will tell you now of Arcite.

 The summer passed, and the long nights doubled both the bitter pain of the lover and of the prisoner. I know not which has the more woeful occupation! For, to tell shortly, Palamon is perpetually doomed to prison, to die in chains and fetters; and Arcite is exiled on pain of death from that country for evermore, and nevermore shall he see his lady. You lovers, I ask now the question, which is in the worse case, Palamon or Arcite? The one may see his lady daily, but must dwell ever in prison. The other may ride or walk where he wishes, but shall never see his lady more. Now you that know how, judge as you wish, for I will tell now as I began.

Here ends the first part.

Here begins the second part.

 When Arcite had made his way to Thebes, he languished many days and said "Alas!", for never again should he see his lady. And shortly to conclude about his woe, no creature that is or shall be while the world shall last ever had so much sorrow. He was bereft of sleep, food, and drink, and grew lean and dry as a stick; his eyes hollow, grisly to see, and his hue sallow, pale as cold ashes; and he was always solitary, wailing all night and making his complaint.

 If he heard songs or instruments of music, then would he weep and could not be consoled. So feeble and low and changed were his spirits, that nobody could recognize his speech or his voice even if they heard them. And in his behavior he acted not only as if he had the lover's sickness of Eros, but rather like madness sprung from melancholy in the cell of imagination in his brain. In short, both the disposition and habits of this woeful lover, lord Arcite, were turned all upside-down.

 Why should I describe all day his woe? When he had endured a year or two of this cruel torment in his country Thebes, one night as he lay in his sleep the winged god Mercury seemed to stand before him, and told him to be cheerful. In his hand he bore upright his wand of sleep, and upon his bright hair he wore a hat; in such fashion he came, Arcite took note, as when Mercury put Argus to sleep. And thus he spoke to him: "You shall go to Athens; there an end of your woe is prepared."

 And at that word Arcite started up. "Now truly," he said, "howsoever I pay for it, I will go straightway to Athens. Not for the fear of death will I fail to see my lady whom I love and serve. If I behold her once, I do not care if I should die!"

 And with that word he picked up a great mirror and saw that his entire hue was changed, and his face was entirely of another fashion; and it ran into his mind then that since his face was so disfigured with his malady, he might well, if he bore himself humbly, live in Athens unknown evermore and see his lady almost daily. And quickly he changed his clothing to that of a poor laborer, and all alone except for a squire, who was disguised poorly as Arcite was and knew Arcite's secret, he took the shortest way to Athens.

 And soon he went to the court, and at the gate offered his service to drudge and draw whatever men should tell him. And shortly to end this matter, he fell into service with Emily's chamberlain, who was wise and could well detect a good servant. Well could Arcite hew wood and carry water, for he was young and mighty in that, and strong and big of bones to do whatever he was bid. A year or two he was in this service as page of the chamber to Emily the bright, and he called himself Philostrate. But there was never in the court a man of his station who was half so well beloved as him; for he seemed so noble a person that his renown spread throughout the court.

 They said that it would be a charity for Theseus to raise his station, and put him in worshipful service, where he might employ all of his powers. Thus within a while the report of his deeds and fair tongue was so spread about that Theseus took him as squire of his chamber, with gold enough to maintain his station. And from year to year men brought him secretly his revenue from his own country as well; but this he spent in such fitting and cunning fashion that no man wondered from where it had come. And three years he led his life in this fashion, and bore himself so in war and in peace that Theseus held no man dearer. And in this bliss I now leave Arcite, and will speak a little of Palamon.

 Seven years in darkness in this horrible fortified prison has Palamon sat, worn away with woe and hardship. Who feels now a double wound and heaviness but Palamon, whom love so torments that he goes out of his wit for woe! And he is a prisoner also, not just for a year but perpetually. Who could properly in English set to rhyme his martyrdom? Not I, in truth. Therefore I pass it over as lightly as I can.

 Now in the seventh year, on the third night of May, as the old books tell which relate this history more fully, whether it was by chance or by destiny (as thus, that when a thing is decreed, it shall be), it happened that Palamon, soon after midnight, by the help of a friend broke from his prison and fled the city as fast as he could go. For he had given his jailer a drink of a cordial, made of a certain wine with narcotics and fine opium of Thebes, so that all that night, even if men should strike him, he could not awake, but remained asleep. And thus Palamon fled away as fast as he ever could. The night was short and dawn was at hand; he had to hide, and to a nearby grove he crept with fearful foot. For in short this was his intent: to hide himself in that grove all day and at night to take the road toward Thebes, and pray his friends to help him war upon Theseus; and in brief, either he should lose his life or win Emily in marriage. This is the sum of it, and his full intent.

 Now will I return again to Arcite, who little knows how near his trouble was until Fortune had brought him into the snare. The busy lark, messenger of day, saluted with her song the gray morning; and Phoebus rose up so fiery that all the orient laughed because of the light; and with his beams he dried in the thickets the silver drops hanging on the leaves. And Arcite, dwelling in the royal court with Theseus, as chief squire, had risen and looked out upon the merry morning. To do observance to May, and keeping in mind the point of his desire, he rode out of the court upon a charger, leaping about like the fire, into the fields a mile or more to occupy himself. And into that grove of which I have told you he began by chance to take his way, to make him a garland of sprigs, either of woodbine or hawthorn leaves. And loud he sang in the bright sun,
"May, with your flowers and your green,
So welcome are you, fair fresh May,
I hope to get some green this day."
With lusty heart he sprang from his charger into the grove, and wandered up and down along a path, where by chance Palamon was behind a bush, so that nobody might see him, for he was sorely afraid of his death. He knew not at all that it was Arcite--God knows he would have hardly believed it. But the truth was said, many years ago, "The field has eyes, the wood has ears," A man does well to bear a steady spirit, for ever do people meet at unexpected times. Little does Arcite know of his old comrade, who was so near to hear all that he said, for Palamon sat silently in the bush.

 When Arcite had roamed his fill, and sung his roundel lustily, he fell then into a study, as these lovers do in their odd, changeful way, sometimes in the tree-tops, sometimes down among briers, sometimes up, sometimes down, like a bucket in a well. Even as on the Friday sometimes it shines and sometimes it rains hard, so can fickle Venus overcast the hearts of her followers; even as her day is changeful, so changes she her aspect; seldom is the Friday like all the rest of the week.

 When Arcite had sung he began to sigh, and without more ado sat himself down. "Alas," he said, "alas the day that I was born! How long through your cruelty will you war upon Thebes, O Juno? Alas! all the royal blood of Cadmus and Amphion is brought to confusion. I am of the lineage of Cadmus, the first man that built Thebes and founded the city, and was crowned first king of it; I am offspring of his true line, and of the royal stock. And now I am such a wretch and slave that I serve my mortal enemy as his poor squire. And yet Juno does me this indignity as well, so that I dare not acknowledge my own name. Where I used to be called Arcite, now am I Philostrate, not worth a farthing!

 "Alas, cruel Mars! Alas, Juno! Thus has your anger undone all our kindred, except me only, and wretched Palamon whom Theseus martyrs in his dungeon. And over all this, Love has shot his fiery arrow through my true, anxious breast so full of fire, to make a final end of me, so that my death was shaped for me before my first shirt was sewn! You slay me with your eyes, Emily; you are the cause of my dying. I set not the value of a peascod upon all the remnant of my care, if only I could do anything to your pleasure!" And with that word he fell down in a trance for a long time.

 Palamon, who thought he felt a cold sword glide suddenly through his heart, quaked for anger and could hesitate no longer; but when he heard Arcite's words, started as if he were a madman up out of the thick bushes with a pale, deathlike face, and "Arcite," he said, "false wicked traitor, now are you caught, who love my lady for whom I have all this pain and woe! You are my own blood and sworn to my confidence, as I have told you often before. And you have deceived Duke Theseus and falsely changed your name. Either you or I shall die. You shall not love my lady; I alone will love her and none other. For I am your mortal enemy Palamon, and though I have no weapon here, but have escaped by grace of Fortune from prison, I doubt not that either I shall slay you or you shall not love Emily. Choose whichever you will, for you shall not escape me."

 When Arcite knew him and had heard his tale, with full savage heart he pulled out a sword and as fierce as a lion he spoke: "By the God Who sits in heaven, were it not that you are sick and mad for love and have no weapon here, you should never pass out of this grove unless you were to die by my hand. For I defy the pledge and bond that you say I have made to you. What, you fool--you know that love is free, and that I will love her in spite of all your power. But have here my word, for as much as you are a worthy knight and would gladly contend for her by battle, I will not fail, but without the knowledge of any I will be here tomorrow, by my knightly honor, and bring armor sufficient for you, and you shall choose the best and leave the worst for me. And this night I will bring you meat and drink enough, and clothes for your bedding. And if it so happens that you win my lady and slay me in this wood, you may well have your lady, for all me.

 Palamon answered, "I agree." And thus each of them pledged his faith and parted from the other until the morning. Ah, Cupid, who has no charity! Ah, kingdom that will have no fellow! Truly is it said that neither love nor lordship will have a partner; and that indeed Arcite and Palamon found.

 Arcite rode quickly to the town; and in the morning before daylight he secretly prepared two suits of armor, each sufficient and worthy for the battle in the field between them. And as he was alone, he carried this armor before him on his horse, and in the grove, at the appointed time and place, this Arcite and Palamon met. Then the color in their visages began to change. Just as the hunter in the realm of Thrace stands at a gap in the forest with a spear, when bear or lion is hunted, and hears him come rushing through the branches, breaking boughs and leaves, and thinks, "Here comes my mortal foe; without fail, either he or I must die, for I must slay him at this moment, or he me, if ill comes to me;" so were they, and so their hue altered, as far off as each could know the other.

 There was no "Good-day," no salutation, but straightway, without word or rehearsing, each helped the other to arm, as courteously as if he were his dear friend; and after that they thrust at each other for an amazingly long time with spears sharp and stout. You might judge that Palamon in his fighting were a mad lion and Arcite a cruel tiger. They struck against each other like wild boars that froth white as foam in mad anger; up to the ankles they fought in blood. And in this way I leave them fighting, and will tell you forth of Theseus.

 Destiny, God's general vicar, who executes over all the world the providence which He has foreordained, so strong it is that even if the world swore the contrary of a thing, yes or no, yet it shall happen on that day which will not happen again in a thousand years. For certainly our wills here, whether they are on war, or peace, of love or hate, are all ruled by the eye above us. I am put now in mind of this by the mighty Theseus, who is so zealous on the hunt, and chiefly in May for the great hart, that no day dawns upon him in bed, that he is not clad and ready to ride with huntsman and horn, and hounds before him. For in hunting he has such delight that all of his joy and passion is to be himself the great harts' destroyer, or after Mars now he serves Diana.

 Clear was the day, as I have told, and Theseus in all joy and mirth rode a-hunting royally, with his fair Hippolyta and Emily clothed all in green; and to the grove, not far away, in which men told him was a hart, he held the straight course, and over a brook and so forth on his way toward the glade where the hart was accustomed to have his flight. The duke would have a run or two at him with hounds such as he might wish to order.

 When he had come to the opening he shaded his eyes from the sun and looked about, and immediately noticed Palamon and Arcite who fought furiously, as if they were two boars. The bright swords went back and forth so hideously that with the least blow it seemed they would fell an oak; but who they were he knew not at all. The duke smote his charger with his spurs and at a bound was between the two, and pulled out a sword and cried, "Hoo! No more upon pain of losing your heads! By mighty Mars, he whom I see strike another stroke shall die immediately! But tell me what sort of men are you who are so bold as to fight here without a judge or other officer, as if you were in a legal duel?"

 Palamon answered hastily, "Sire, what need is there of more words? Both of us have deserved the death. We are two woeful wretches, weary of our own lives, and as you are a just lord and judge, grant us no mercy nor escape, but slay me first, for the love of holy charity; but slay my fellow as well. Or slay him first, for though you little know it, this is your mortal foe; this is Arcite, who is banished from your land on pain of death, for which he deserves to die; this is he who came to your doors and called himself Philostrate. Thus he has deceived you many years. And you have made him your chief squire, and this is he who loves Emily.

 "And since the day of my death is come, I fully confess that I am that woeful Palamon who wickedly broke from your prison. I am your mortal foe, and it is I who bear so hot a love to Emily the bright that I will die here before her eyes. Therefore I ask my death and my judgement. But slay my companion in the same way, for we both have deserved to die."

 The worthy duke answered then, "This is a speedy judgement. Your own mouth by your confession has condemned you, and I bear witness to it. There is no need to torture you on the rack. You shall die, by mighty Mars the red!"

 The queen on account of her true womanliness began to weep, and so did Emily and all the ladies in the troop. It was great pity, as they all deemed, that ever such a mischance should occur, for they were gentle youths, of great station, and only for love was this combat. They beheld their bloody wounds wide and sore, and one and all they cried, "Have mercy upon us women, lord!" and upon their bare knees down they fell, and would have kissed his feet where he was, until at the last his mood was softened, for pity runs soon into a noble heart.

 And though at first he quaked for anger, yet he considered in brief the trespass of them both and the cause of it; and although his anger arraigned them of guilt, yet his reason held them excused. Thus he considered that every man will help himself in love, if he is able, and deliver himself from prison as well. And his heart had pity upon the women as well, who continued weeping, and at that moment he thought in his noble heart, and said softly to himself, "Fie upon a lord who will have no mercy, but be a lion in word and deed to those who repent and tremble, as well as to a proud, scornful man who ever upholds what he has done. That lord has little of discernment who knows no difference in such a case, but measures pride and humility alike."

 And, in brief, when his anger was thus departed, he began to look up with shining eyes and spoke these words aloud: "Ah, the God of Love! God bless! How mighty and great a lord he is! Against his might no obstacles can help; well may he be called a god by reason of his miracles, for of every heart he can make what he will. Lo, here are this Palamon and this Arcite, who have freely left my prison, and might have lived royally in Thebes, and know that I am their mortal foe and that their death lies in my power; yet love, in spite of their two eyes, has brought them here both to die! Look now, is not that a high folly? Who can be a fool unless he is in love? Behold how they bleed, for God's sake in heaven! Are they not well arrayed? Thus has their lord, the god of love, paid their wages and their reward for serving him! And yet they who serve love deem themselves wise, for anything that may happen!

 But this is the best sport of all, that she for whom they have this mirth thanks them therefore no more than me; for she knows no more of this heated display than a cuckoo or a hare! But all things must be attempted, both good and bad; young or old, a man must sometimes be a fool. I know it by myself, for in my time, years ago, I was a servant of love. And therefore, since I know of love's pain, as one often caught in his snare, and how sorely it can clutch a man, I forgive you this trespass entirely, at the request of the queen kneeling here and of Emily as well, my sweet sister; and you shall both now swear to me never again to hurt my country nor war upon me by day or night, but be my friends in all that you can. I forgive you this trespass, every bit!"

 Fairly and well they swore to him as he asked, and prayed him for mercy and to be their good lord; and he granted them his grace and said thus: "To speak of royal lineage and riches, each of you is worthy, doubtless, to wed in due season, either a queen or a princess; but nevertheless, to speak of my sister for whom you have all this strife and jealousy, you know yourselves she may not wed two at once, though you fight forevermore. One of you, willy-nilly, must go whistle in an ivy-leaf; this is to say, she may not have both of you, no matter how jealous you may be. And therefore I give you these terms, that each of you shall have his destiny as it is ordained for him, and hear now in what manner.

 "Lo, here I set your terms! My will is this, for flat conclusion, not to be replied to, and take it for the best, if you like it; that each of you go where he would like, freely, without ransom or control, and this day fifty weeks, neither more nor less, each of you shall bring a hundred knights, armed in all perfection for the lists, ready to contend for her in battle. And this I promise you, without fail and upon my word as a knight, that whichever of you both that has the strength, that is to say, whether he or you with your hundred that I spoke of can slay your adversary or drive out of the lists, to him shall I give Emily, to that one whom Fortune grants so fair a grace. The lists I shall make here, and God so surely have mercy upon my soul as I shall be an even and faithful judge! No other terms shall you make with me, but that one of you shall be either dead or prisoner. And if this seem to you well said, speak your mind, and be content. This end and conclusion I set you!"

 Whose look is light now but Arcite's? Who springs up for joy but Palamon? Who could tell or write of the joy there when Theseus granted so fair a grace? But down on their knees went every creature and thanked him with heart and soul, and most chiefly the Thebans many times over. And thus with good hope and joyful hearts they took their leave, and rode homeward to Thebes, with its broad old walls.

Here ends the second part.

Here follows the third part.

I believe I would be judged negligent if I forget to tell of Theseus' outlay, who went busily to work to build up royal lists; such a noble theatre I dare to say was nowhere in this world. The circuit was a mile around, with a wall of stone and a ditch outside of it. Round was the shape, in a circle, full of steps to the height of sixty paces, so that when a man was set on one step he hindered not his neighbor behind from seeing. Eastward stood a gate of white marble, and even such another opposite westward; and, to conclude briefly, within a similar space was no such fabric on the earth. For there was no crafty man in the land that knew geometry or arithmetic, nor any cunning portrayer nor carver of images, that Theseus gave him not meat and hire to plan and build the theatre. And to do his rites and sacrifice, he built an oratory and an altar eastward above the gate, in honor of Venus, goddess of love; and westward, in commemoration of Mars, he built even such another, that cost a huge load of gold. And northward, in a turret on the wall, Theseus ordered to be made in noble fashion an oratory rich to behold, of white alabaster and coral red, in honor of Diana the chaste.

 And I have yet forgotten to describe the noble carving, the portrayals, the devices, the emblazonings and the figures in these three oratories. First, in the temple of Venus you might have seen created upon the wall, in imagery piteous to behold, the broken sleeps and cold sighs, the sacred tears and lamentations, the fiery pangs of desire that love's servants endure in this life; the oaths which secure their covenants; Pleasure and Hope, Desire and Foolhardiness, Beauty and Youth, Mirth, Riches, Love-charms and Violence, Deceits, Flattery, Extravagance, Anxiety and Jealousy (who wore a garland of yellow marigolds, with a cuckoo sitting on her hand); feasts, instruments or music, singing with dancing, pleasures and gay garments, with all the circumstance of love which I have explain and shall explain, were painted by order upon the wall, and more than I can make mention of.

 In truth all the mount of Citheron, where Venus has her principal dwelling, was drawn upon the wall, with all the garden and the lustiness of it. Idleness, the porter, was not forgotten, nor Narcissus the fair of long ago, nor the folly of King Solomon, nor yet the great strength of Hercules; the enchantments of Medea and Circe, nor the hardy fierce heart of Turnus, nor the rich Croesus, captive and in servitude. Thus may you see that neither wisdom nor riches, beauty nor cunning, strength nor hardihood can hold rivalry with Venus, for she can guide all the world as she wish. Lo, all these folk were so caught in her snare until for woe they cried often "Alas!" One or two examples shall suffice here, though I could explain a thousand more. The naked statue of Venus, glorious to look upon, was floating in a great sea, and from the navel down all was covered with green waves, bright as any glass. She had a lyre in her right and, and on her head a rose-garland, fresh and fragrant, and seemly to see. Above her head fluttered her doves, and before her stood her son Cupid, blindfolded, as he is often shown, with two wings upon his shoulders. He carried a bow and bright, keen arrows.

 Why should I not tell you as well the portrayals on the wall in the temple of mighty Mars the red? The walls were painted, in length and breadth, just as the inner parts of the grisly, great temple of Mars in Thrace, in that cold, frosty region where Mars has his supreme habitation. On the wall was painted first a forest, in which dwelt neither beast nor man, with barren old trees, knotty and gnarled, with sharp and hideous stumps.

 Through the forest ran a rumbling and a rushing noise, as though every bough should break in the tempest. Beneath a hill, under the slope, stood the temple of Mars mighty in arms, forged all of burnished steel, the portal deep and narrow, ghastly to see; and out from it came such a raging blast as made all the gates to shake.

 The light from the north shone in at the door, for there was no window in the wall through which one could discern any light. The doors were all of everlasting adamant, bound across and length-wise with tough iron, and every pillar that strongly held the temple aloft was the size of a tun and of bright and shining iron.

 There I saw first the dark contriving of Felony and all the compassing thereof; cruel Anger, red as a coal; the pick-purse and pale Dread as well; the smiler with a knife under the mantle; the stable burning in its black smoke; the treacherous murder in the bed, and open war with wounds all bleeding, and strife with bloody knife and sharp menace. That sorry spot was all full of shrieks.

 Further on I saw there the slayer of himself with his hair bathed in his heart's blood; the nail driven in the temples by night; cold death upon his back, with mouth gaping. In the midst of the temple sat Misfortune, with dejection and sorrowful face. Farther yet I saw Madness laughing in his frenzy, armed complaint, outcry and fierce fury; the corpse in the bushes with throat cut; a thousand slain, but not by pestilence; the tyrant with his prey taken by force, and the town utterly left in ruins. Yet again I saw the dancing ships burned, the hunter strangled by the wild bears, the sow devouring the child in the very cradle, the cook scalded, despite his long spoon. Nothing was forgotten that comes by the evil aspects of Mars. The carter run over by his cart lay low under the wheel. There were also, of Mars' clan, the barber, the butcher, and the smith forging sharp swords upon his anvil. And above, in a tower, was depicted conquest sitting in great state, with the sharp sword hanging above him by a subtle thread of twine. The slaughter of Julius Caesar was painted there, and of great Nero and Antony. Albeit they were unborn at that time, yet so long before were their deaths through the menacing of Mars depicted in clear heraldry. So was it shown in those portrayals even as it is drawn at large in the stars of heaven, who shall be slain and who die for love. One or two examples from old histories shall suffice; I cannot describe them all even though I would.

 The statue of Mars stood armed upon a chariot, grim as a madman, and over his head shone two figures of stars called in clerks' writings Puella and Rubeus; in this guise was the god of arms shown. A wolf stood before him at his feet, red-eyed and devouring a man. With subtle pencil were these figures depicted, to the glory of redoubtable Mars.

 Now to the temple of Diana the chaste I will get me as fast as I can, to tell you all the description if it. The walls up and down were painted with examples of hunting and of modest chastity.

 There I saw how woeful Callisto, when Diana was angered with her, was turned from a woman to a bear (and she was made the lode-star afterwards). Thus was it painted, I can tell you no more; her son is a star also, as men may behold. There I saw Daphne, turned into a tree; I mean not the goddess Diana, but the daughter of Peneus, that was named Daphne. There I saw Actaeon transformed into a hart, for vengeance because he saw Diana naked; I saw also how his hounds caught and devoured him because they knew him not. There was painted also how Atalanta hunted the wild boar, with Meleager and many others, for which Diana wrought woe for him. There I saw many other wondrous stories, which I wish not call to mind.

 This goddess sat high on a hart, with small hounds about her feet, and underneath her feet she had a waxing moon that would soon wane. Her statue was clothed in green, bow in hand and arrows in a quiver. Her eyes she cast down low, where Pluto holds his dark region. Before her was a woman in labor, and because her child was so long unborn she called piteously upon Lucina, "Help, for you can aid me better than any other." He who depicted her could make his likenesses beautiful and lifelike, and he paid many florins for his colors.

 Now were these lists all made, and Theseus, who at his own great cost had thus every bit appointed the temples and the theatre, was very well pleased. But I will pass on a little from Theseus, and speak of Arcite and Palamon.

 The day of their returning approached, when each should bring a hundred knights to contest in battle as I told you; and to Athens each of them came to keep his covenant, with a hundred knights all well and duly armed for the combat. And truly many men said that never since the world began, as far as God has made sea or land, was so noble a fellowship, of a few men, in the knightly exploits of their hands. For every creature that loved chivalry and would gladly have an exalted name had prayed to be in those jousts. Joyful was he who was chosen. For you know well that, if such a case presented itself tomorrow, every lusty knight that had his strength and was acquainted with love would be eager to be there. To fight for a lady, God bless, it would be a enjoyable sight to see!

And so it was with many knights that came with Palamon. One would be armed in a coat of mail, a breastplate and a light tunic; some would wear a pair of broad plates on front and back; some would have a Prussian shield or target; some would be armed well on their legs, and have an ax or a steel mace. There is no new guise that is not old. Armed they were, even as I have said, each one in his own fashion.

 There you might have seen, coming with Palamon, the great king of Thrace, Lycurgus himself. Black was his beard and manly his face. His eyes glowed of a hue between yellow and red, and like a griffin he looked about, with shaggy hairs in his dogged brows, his limbs great, his brawn hard, his shoulders broad, his arms round and long. And as the manner was in his country, high he stood upon a chariot of gold, with four white bulls in the harness. Instead of an armorial tunic over his harness, he had an ancient bearskin, coal-black, with yellow nails bright as any gold. His long hair was combed down behind, and shone black as any raven's feather; on his head was a diadem of gold as great as an arm, of huge weight, set full of bright stones, of fine rubies and diamonds. About his chariot marched white mastiffs, twenty and more, as great as any steer, to hunt the lion or hart, and they followed him with collars of gold and ringed leashes filed smoothly, and muzzles fast bound. He had a hundred well-armed lords in his troop, with stern and stout hearts.

 With Arcite, as one may read in the histories, came riding, like Mars, the god of arms, the great Emetreus, king of India, upon a bay steed trapped in steel and covered with a diapered cloth of gold. His tunic, blazoned with his arms, was of cloth of Tartary, laid with pearls, white, round, and great. His saddle was of burnished gold, freshly forged. A short mantle hung upon his shoulders, stiff with red rubies sparkling as fire. His crisp hair ran in rings, yellow, glittering as the sun. His nose was high, his lips full, his eyes bright citron, and his color sanguine, with a few freckles between yellow and black sprinkled in his face; and as a lion he cast his looking about. His age I estimate at five-and-twenty; his beard was well begun to spring, and his voice as a thunderous trumpet. Upon his head he wore a garland of green laurel, fresh and lively to see; and upon his hand he bore for his pleasure a tame eagle, white as any lily. He had with him a hundred lords, all armed richly in all their gear, except for their heads. Dukes and earls and kings were gathered in this noble company, trust me well, for the advancement of knighthood and for love's sake. On every side about this king ran many tame lions and leopards.

 And in this way on that Sunday about prime these lords one and all arrived in the city and alighted. This worthy Duke Theseus, when he had brought them into his city and lodged them, each according to his rank, took such pains to feast and entertain them and do them all the honor that even now men deem that no man's wit could improve upon it. The service at the banquet, the minstrelsy, the great gifts to high and low, the rich array of Theseus' palace, what ladies were fairest and best on the dance, or which could best dance and sing, or who spoke of love most tenderly, who sat first or last on the dais, what hawks were perched above, what hounds lay on the floor--of all this I make no mention now, but only the pith of it, that it seems to me is best to tell. Now comes the point; listen if you will.

 Sunday night, before daybreak, when Palamon heard the lark sing (though it would not be day for two hours, yet the lark sang, and Palamon as well), he arose with holy heart and high spirit to go on his pilgrimage to the blessed and gracious Cytherea, I mean Venus, worthy of all reverence; and in her hour he walked forth on foot to the tournament grounds, and into her temple. And down he kneeled, and with humble bearing and aching heart he spoke as I shall tell you.

 "Fairest of fair, daughter to Jove and spouse to Vulcan, O Venus my lady, you who gladdens the mount of Citheron, have pity on my bitter burning tears and receive my humble prayer at your heart, by that love you bore to Adonis. Alas, I have no language to express the torments of this hell! My heart cannot reveal my woes, I am so bewildered that I can say nothing. But mercy, lady bright, who well knows my thought and sees my pain; consider all this and have pity, and so surely shall I evermore be your true servant with all my might, and hold warfare ever with chastity. That vow I make, so you will help me.

 "I care not to boast of arms, nor ask tomorrow to have victory, nor renown in this combat nor vain praise for my exploits trumpeted up and down. But I wish fully to have possession of Emily and die in your service. Choose yourself the manner how; I know not whether it would be better to have victory of them, or they of me, so long as I have my lady in my arms. For though Mars may be the god of battle, your virtue is so great in heaven that, if you wish, I shall have my love. Your temple evermore will I honor, wherever I go, and on your altar I will maintain a fire and do sacrifice. And if you deny me, my sweet lady, then I pray that tomorrow with a spear Arcite may bear me through the heart. Then, when I am dead, I care not if Arcite should win her as his wife. This is the sum and end of my prayer: grant me my love, blessed lady."

 When his prayer was done, Palamon immediately made his sacrifice very devoutly, with all ceremony, though I tell not his rites now. But at last the statue of Venus shook, and made a sign by which he understood that his prayer that day was accepted. For though the sign showed delay, yet he knew well that his gift was granted and went home with a glad heart.

 About the third hour after Palamon set forth for Venus' temple, up rose the sun, and up rose Emily, and hastened forth to the temple of Diana. Her maidens she had with her prepared the fire, the incense, the vestments, horns full of mead, as was the custom, and all the rest that appertained to the sacrifice; nothing was lacking. While the temple, full of beautiful hangings, smoked with sweet odors, this Emily with mild heart washed her body with water from a spring. But how she performed her rite, unless it were something in general, I dare not tell. (Yet it would be a pleasure to hear more. For a man of blameless mind there would be no harm; it is good that a man be unrestricted in his speech.) Her bright hair was combed and loose, and on her head was set a crown of green oak, fair and pleasing.

 She kindled two fires on the altar, and completed her rites as one may read in Theban Statius and these old books. When the fire was kindled she spoke thus to Diana with pious expression.

 "Chaste goddess of the green woods, to whom heaven and earth and sea are visible, queen of the deep, dark realm of Pluto, goddess of maidens, who many years has known my heart and what I desire, keep me now from your wrath and vengeance, which Actaeon cruelly bore. Chaste goddess, you well know that I desire to be a maiden until I die, never do I wish to be a lover or wife. I am a maiden, you know, yet of your band, and love hunting and the chase and to walk in the savage woods, and not to be a wife and to be with child. I wish to know nothing of the company of men. Now lady, I ask you by your own three forms: help me, since you can, and grant me this one grace; send love and peace between Arcite and Palamon, that love me so sorely; and so turn away their hearts from me that all their hot desire and love and busy torment and flames be quenched or turned elsewhere.

 "And if you will not favor me, or my destiny be ordered that I must have one of the two, send me the one who desires me most. Goddess of pure chastity, behold the bitter tears that drop from my cheeks. Since you, a maiden yourself, are protector of us all, keep and defend my maidenhead, and as long as I live I will serve you as a maiden."

 The fires burned steadily upon the altar while Emily was thus praying, but suddenly she saw a marvelous sight. For just then one of the fires was quenched and restarted again, and soon after that the other fire was quenched and quite extinct. And as it was extinguished it made a whistling as these wet brands do when they burn, and at the end of the brand out ran as it were many bloody drops. At this Emily was so sorely aghast that she began to cry aloud and was nearly mad; for she knew not what it signified, but only called out for fear and so wept that it was pitiful to listen.

 And at this moment Diana appeared in the guise of a huntress with bow in hand and said, "Daughter, cease your heaviness. It is decreed among the high gods and written and confirmed in eternal words, that you shall be wedded to one of those who has had so much care and woe for you; but to which one I may not tell. Farewell, I may remain no longer. The fires burning on my altar, before you leave here, shall declare to you your lot in this love matter."

 And with that word the arrows in the goddess' quiver clattered and rung aloud, and she forth went and vanished. At this Emily was astonished, and said, "Alas! What does this signify? I put myself in your protection, Diana, and in your control." And she went straight home. This is the sum of it; there is no more to say.

 In the next hour of Mars after this Arcite went forth on foot to the temple of fierce Mars, to do his sacrifice with all the rites of his pagan faith. With devout heart and high reverence he said his prayer to Mars thus.

 "O strong god, who in the cold realms of Thrace are honored and held as lord, and in every country and every realm has the entire bridle of war in your hand, and disposes fortune in war as you wish, accept from me my devout sacrifice. If my youth may have such merit, and my might be worthy to serve your godhead, and I may be one of yours, then pity my pains, I pray. For that pain and those hot flames in which you once burned for desire, when you had at will all the beauty of fair, young, fresh Venus (although one time it went amiss with you, when Vulcan caught you in his cords, alas!), for that sorrow that was in your heart then, pity my bitter pains as well.

 "You know I am young and unlearned, and hurt more with love, I believe, than ever was any living creature. For she who gives me all this woe cares never if I sink or float. And well I know I must win her with force of arms upon the field, before she will promise me mercy; and well I know without help or grace from you my strength cannot avail. Then help me tomorrow in my fight, and recall for yourself that fire that once burned you, lord, as this fire now burns me; and grant that tomorrow I may conquer.

 "May mine be the travail, yours be the glory! Your supreme temple will I most revere of any place, and ever most toil in your strong calling and to do your pleasure; and in your temple I will hang up my banner and all the arms of my fellows, and evermore until the day I die I will maintain an eternal fire before you. And I will bind me to this vow also; my beard and my hair I will give you, that now hang down long and never yet felt offence of razor or shears, and I will be your true servant while I live. Now, lord, have pity on my bitter sorrows, and give me victory; I ask of you no more."

 The prayer of Arcite the strong being done, the temple-doors and also the rings that hung on them clattered loudly, at which Arcite was somewhat aghast. The fires burned brightly upon the altar and illumined all the temple, and then the ground gave out a sweet smell. And Arcite lifted his hand and cast more incense into the fire, and did other rites. And at last the statue of Mars began to ring his hauberk. And with that sound Arcite heard a low and dim murmur which said "Victory!", for which he gave laud and honor to Mars. Thus with joy and high hope of faring well, Arcite went immediately to his lodging, as glad as a bird is for the bright sun.

 Immediately such strife for that grant began in heaven between Venus, goddess of love, and Mars, the stern god mighty in arms, that Jupiter was hard at work to calm it, until the pale and cold and hostile Saturn, who knew so many earlier dealings, soon found in his vast experience a plan to content both sides. Truth to tell, age has great advantage; in age is both wisdom and experience. One can outrun the old, but not outwit them. Now, to appease strife and dread, albeit that is against his nature, Saturn began to find a remedy.

 "My dear daughter Venus," he said, "my course which circles so widely has more power than any mortal comprehends. Mine is the drowning in the pale sea, mine the imprisoning in the dark cell, mine the strangling and the hanging by the throat; the murmurs, the groaning, the churls' rebellion, the secret poisoning. I make vengeance and full chastisement when I dwell in the sign of the Lion. Mine is the ruin of high mansions, the falling of towers and walls on the miner and the carpenter. When Samson shook the pillar, it was I who slew him. And mine are the cold maladies, the dark treasons and ancient plots; my aspect begets the plague.

 "Weep no more now, I will do my duty that your own knight Palamon shall have his lady as you have promised him. Though Mars may help his knight, nevertheless at last there must be peace between you; albeit you are not of one nature, which always causes such division. Weep you no more; I am your grandfather, ready at your command, and I will fulfill your pleasure."

 Now will I leave the gods of heaven, Venus, goddess of love, and Mars; and tell you as plainly as may be the main substance, for which I began.

Here ends the third part.

Here follows the fourth part.

 Great was the festival in Athens, and for that lusty season of May every creature was in such mirth that they jousted and danced all that Monday, and spent it in Venus' high service. But because all should be up early to see the great tourney, they went to rest early that night.

 When day began to spring in the morning, there was clattering and noise of horses and armor in the lodgings everywhere, and to the palace rode many troops of lords upon steeds and palfreys. There you could have seen armor devised rare and richly, and wrought well in gold-work, embroidery, and steel; bright shields, horses' trappings, steel caps, gold-beaten helmets, hauberks, armorial tunics; lords on their chargers in splendid vesture above their armor; knights-retainers, and squires nailing on spearheads, buckling helms, strapping shields and lacing with thongs.

 Where there was need, none were idle. Foamy steeds were gnawing on golden bridles, armorers were spurring to and fro in haste with file and hammer; there were yeomen on foot, and many burgesses, with short staves in hand, as thick as they could crowd; pipes, trumpets, drums, clarions, that sound bloody blasts in battle; the palace up and down full of people holding talk, here three, there ten, surmising about these two Theban knights.

 Some said it shall be so, some said thus, some sided with him of the black beard, some with the thick-haired, some with the bald; some said that one looked grim and would fight indeed, and that one had a battle-ax that weighed twenty pound. Thus the hall was full of conjecture from the time the sun began to spring.

 The great Theseus, awaken from his sleep with the minstrelsy and noise, held yet his chamber in his rich palace until the Theban knights with equal honor were fetched there. Duke Theseus was seated at a window, arrayed as if he were a god on his throne. The people pressed in that direction to see him and pay him high reverence, and to hear his pronouncement and behest. A herald on a scaffold proclaimed silence until all the people's noise was hushed, and then he declared the mighty duke's will.

 "The lord duke, of his high prudence, has considered that it would be mere destruction to noble blood, if men should now in this event fight in the fashion of mortal battle. Therefore, to ordain that they shall not perish, he will modify his first purpose. On pain of death, therefore, no man shall send or bring into the lists any manner of missile, or pole-ax, or short knife; no man shall draw or bear by his side any short sword with sharp point for stabbing; no man shall ride against his adversary with a sharply ground spear more than one run, but on foot he may thrust, if he will, to defend himself. He who is bettered shall be captured, not slain, but brought to the stake that shall be ordained on either side; to that place he must go by the rules and remain there. And if so happen that the chieftain on either side be taken, or else be slain, the tournament shall last no longer. God speed you! Go forth, lay on hard! With maces and long swords fight your fill. This is the lord duke's decree, and now go your ways."

 The voice of the people reached the sky, so loud they cried with joyful voice: "God save so good a lord, who will have no bloody destruction!" Up go trump and melody, and the bands of knights ride to the tournament grounds in order through the broad city, which was all hung with no serge but with cloth of gold. Like a lord indeed rode this noble duke, the two Thebans on either side; next rode Emily and the queen, and then another company ordered according to their station.

 Thus they passed through the city and came early to the tournament grounds. It was not yet full prime of day when Theseus was set down in high state, and Hippolyta the queen, and Emily, and the other ladies in rows of seats. All the crowd pressed to their seats. And then through the western gates, under the shrine of Mars, Arcite and his hundred entered now with a red banner; and at the same moment Palamon and his men entered from the east under the shrine of Venus, with a white banner and hardy bearing and face. In the entire world, if one should seek up and down, there would be no two such companies, so even, without inequality. None was so discerning who could say that either had advantage of other in valor, rank or age. And they arranged themselves in two fair ranks.

 When all their names had been read, so that there might be no deception as to their number, then were the gates shut and a herald cried on high, "Do now your duty, proud young knights!"

 The heralds stopped their spurring about, trumpets and clarions rang aloud; there is no more to say but that in either line the spears were put firmly in their resting place, in went sharp spurs into flanks, and men saw who could ride and who could joust. Shafts were shivering upon thick shields, one man felt the stab through the breast-bone, up sprung spears twenty foot on high, out came swords bright as silver, and hewed and split helms, out burst the blood with stern red streams, with mighty maces they crushed bones. One thrust through the thickest of the throng, there stumbled mighty steeds and down went knight and all, one on foot thrust with his spear-stump. One was hurtled down with his horse, and rolled like a ball under foot. One was hurt through the body, and then seized and, against his will, brought to the stake, and there he must remain by agreement; and there one was brought from the other party.

 At times Theseus made them rest and refresh themselves, and drink if they wished. Often in that day those two Thebans met together and each created woe for his adversary; each unhorsed the other twice. There is no tiger in the vale of Gargaphil, when her little whelp is stolen, so cruel on the hunt as Arcite's jealous heart was against Palamon. Nor is a lion in Belmary so vicious after the blood of his prey, when he is hunted or mad with hunger, as Palamon to slay Arcite his foe. The jealous strokes bit on their helmets, and out ran the red blood on both their flanks.

 Some time there must be an end of every deed. For before the sun went to rest, the strong king Emetreus took the opportunity to seize upon Palamon as he fought, and made his sword to bite deeply into his flesh; and by the arms of twenty he was drawn, ever resisting, unto the stake. Striving to rescue him, the strong king Lycurgus was borne down, and for all of his valor king Emetreus was knocked a sword's length out of his saddle, so Palamon hit him before he was overpowered. But it was all for nothing, as Palamon was dragged to the stake. His hardy heart could not help him; when he was caught he had to obey, by force and by agreement as well. Who but woeful Palamon sorrows now, who may now no more go to the fight?

 And when Theseus had seen it, he cried to the people who continued to fight, "Ho! No more, it is done! I shall be a faithful judge and not a partial one. Arcite of Thebes shall have Emily, whose good fortune has granted him to win her nobly." And straightway for joy of this began such an uproar among the people, so loud and high, it seemed the tournament grounds would fall.

 What now can fair Venus in heaven do? What can she say? What can this queen of love do? She wept so, for lack of her desire, that her tears fell into the ground. "I am ever disgraced, without doubt," she said.

 "Hold your peace, daughter," Saturn replied. "Mars has his will, and his knight all that he prayed for, and you shall be eased before long, by my head!"

 The trumpets, the heralds that called and cried on high, and all the loud minstrelsy, made high festival for joy of Lord Arcite. But hold your peace a little now, and hearken what miracle occurred just then. 

 This fierce Arcite had doffed his helmet to show his face, and on a charger spurred down the long field, looking upward at Emily. And she cast a friendly eye on him in return, for women, to speak generally, follow ever the favor of fortune. And in his heart she made all his joy.

 Out of the ground burst an infernal Fury, sent from Pluto at the request of Saturn, for fear of which Arcite's horse suddenly turned and leapt aside and, as he leapt, foundered and, before Arcite could notice, pitched him on the crown of his head. He lay on the ground as if lifeless, his breast all crushed by his saddle-bows; as black was his face as any raven or coal, just as the blood that run in it. Quickly he was carried away with mourning to Theseus' castle. Then was he carved out of his harness, and brought fairly and soon into a bed, for he was yet alive and conscious, crying always for Emily.

 Duke Theseus with his entire retinue and guests had come home to his city of Athens with all pomp and great festivity. Although this misadventure had occurred, he would not dishearten them all. Men said also that Arcite should not die; he should be healed of his hurt. And they were as glad of another thing, that of them all none was killed, though they were sorely wounded, and especially one whose breast-bone was pierced by a spear. For other wounds and for broken bones some had charms and some had salves; they drank sage and remedies of herbs to preserve their limbs.

 For all this, the noble duke cheered and honored every man, as he well could; and made revelry all night long, as was due, for the foreign lords. Nor was there held to have been any defeat, but only as in a joust or a tourney; there was no defeat, in truth, for it is but a misadventure to fall, or to be held by twenty knights and carried unyielding and by force unto the stake, one man alone without a defender, dragged forth by arm, foot and toe, and his steed also driven forth with staves  by yeomen and pages on foot. It could not mark him with disgrace; none could call it cowardice.

 Therefore, to stop all rancor and malice, Duke Theseus then bade it to be proclaimed that the victory belonged to both sides equally, and either side as alike as the other's brother, and gave gifts to all according to their station, and held a high festival for three days.  And he honorably escorted the kings out of his town a full day's journey. And every man went home directly; there was no more than, "Farewell, have a good day!" Of this battle I will speak no more, but tell of Arcite and of Palamon.

 The breast of Arcite swelled, and the malady around his heart increased more and more. The clotted blood corrupted, in spite of any doctor's aid, and remained so in his trunk that neither blood-letting nor cupping nor drink of herbs could help him.

 The animal or expulsive virtue, which derives from that force called natural, availed not to expel or drive out the venom. The pipes of his lungs began to swell, and every muscle in his breast and below was sorely harmed with venom and corruption. Neither vomit upward nor other medicine would help to save his life. Crushed was that entire region; Nature no longer had dominion.

 And certainly wherever Nature will not act, farewell medicine! Go bear the man to church! This is the sum of it: Arcite must die; therefore he sent after Palamon, his dear cousin, and after Emily, and then said as you shall hear.

 "The woeful spirit in my heart cannot declare one point of all my bitter sorrows to you my lady, that I love most; but since my life can last no longer, to you above every creature I bequeath to you the devotion of my soul. Alas, for the woe! Alas, for the strong pains that I have suffered for you, and for such a long time! Alas, the death! Alas, my Emily! Alas for our parting! Alas my heart's queen! Alas my bride, my heart's lady, ender of my life! What is this world? What does one ask for? At once with his love, at once in his cold grave alone, without any company! Farewell, my Emily, my sweet foe, and for the love of God take me softly in your two arms and listen to my words.

 "Many days I have had strife and rancor here with my cousin Palamon, for the love of you and for jealousy. And may Jupiter, so wise, guide my soul, to speak kindly of a lover and faithfully on all points, that is to say, of fidelity, honor and knighthood, prudence, humility, station and noble lineage, nobility and all such virtues--so may Jupiter have concern for my heart, as I know of none now in this world so worthy of love as Palamon, who serves you and will his entire life. And if you shall ever wed, forget not the noble Palamon."

 With that word his speech began to fail, for from his feet up to his breast had crept the cold of death that had vanquished him; and in his arms likewise the vital strength was lost and entirely gone. The intellect that dwelt in his sick and sore heart began to wane just as the heart felt death. Dusk grew before his two eyes, and breathing failed, but yet he cast his eye on his lady. His last word was "Mercy, Emily!" His spirit changed house and went to a place where I have never been--I cannot tell where.

 Therefore I leave off; I am no diviner; I find nothing about souls in this volume that I follow. Nor do I care to repeat the opinions of those who write where spirits dwell. Arcite is cold. May Mars guide his soul. Now I will tell more about Emily.

 Emily shrieked and Palamon roared, and Theseus took his swooning sister and bore her away from the corpse. What good is it to take all day to tell how she wept both morning and night? At such times, when their husbands have departed from them, that mostly they grieve, or fall into such sickness, to such a degree that at last they certainly die. Infinite were the sorrow and tears of people both old and of tender age throughout the town for the death of this knight; children and adults wept for him. There was not such great weeping, surely, when Hector was brought, freshly slain, to Troy. Alas for the piteous sight--scratching of cheeks, rending of hair! "Why should you be dead," these women cried, "if you had plenty of gold, and Emily?"

 No man could cheer Theseus except Aegeus, his old father, who knew this world's transmutation as he had seen it change back and forth, joy after woe, woe after gladness; and he showed them examples and similar instances. "Just as a man never died that had not lived on earth in some station, so too a man never lived in all this world," he said, "that had not died at some time. This world is but a thoroughfare full of misery, and we are pilgrims that pass back and forth; death is an end to every pain and grief in this world." Above this he said much more to the same effect, wisely exhorting the people to be consoled.

 Duke Theseus deliberated with all anxious care where the sepulchre of good Arcite might best be made and most honorably to his rank. And at last his conclusion was that where first Palamon and Arcite had the battle between them for love, in that same sweet and green grove where Arcite made his complaint and bore his amorous desires and the hot flames of love, Theseus should make a fire in which the funeral rite should be performed. Then he gave orders to hew and hack the aged oaks, and lay them on rows in pieces well disposed for burning. With swift feet his officers ran and rode quickly at his command.

 And then Theseus sent after a bier and overspread it all with cloth of gold, the richest that he had, and in the same he clad Arcite, with white gloves on his hands, a crown of green laurel on his head, and in his hand a bright sharp sword. He laid him on the bier with uncovered face, weeping all the while, as it was a pity to behold. And so that all the people might see the corpse, when it was day it was brought into the hall, which resounded with the sound of lament.

 Then came this woeful Theban Palamon, with torn beard and rough hair all sprinkled with ash, and then Emily, surpassing others in weeping, the most pitiful in all the procession. So that the service might be the richer and more noble, Duke Theseus ordered that three steeds be led forth, with trappings of steel all glittering and bearing the armor of Lord Arcite. Upon these large white steeds sat people, of whom one bore his shield, another held his spear upright in his hands, and the third bore his Turkish bow, with quiver and trappings of burnished gold; and all rode forth slowly with sorrowful manner toward the grove.

 The noblest of the Greeks there present carried the bier upon their shoulders, with slow pace and eyes wet and red, through all the city via the chief street, which was spread all with black, and hung very high with the same black. On the right hand went Aegeus the old, and on the left Duke Theseus, with vessels of pure gold in their hands full of honey, milk, wine and blood. Then came Palamon, with a great troop, and then woeful Emily, with fire in her hand, to do her duty at the funeral, as was then the custom.

 Much labor and great preparation was there for the service and the making of the pyre, which reached heaven with its green top and stretched its arms twenty fathoms in breadth; that is to say, the boughs reached that far. First there were laid many loads of straw. But how the pyre was built up on high, the kinds of the trees as well (such as oak, fir, birch, aspen, alder, holm, poplar, willow, elm, plane, ash, box, chestnut, linden, laurel, maple, thorn, beech, hazel, yew, cornel), and how they were felled I shall not tell!

 And how the gods ran up and down, disinherited of their habitation, in which they had long time dwelt in peace and rest, nymphs, fauns, and hamadryads of the woods; and how all the beasts and birds fled for fear when the wood was felled; and how the ground was aghast of the light that was not accustomed to see the bright sun; and how the fire was laid first with a bed of straw, and then with dry sticks cloven in three, and green wood, and then with spicery and cloth of gold and gems, and garlands hanging with many flowers, and myrrh and incense and sweet odors; and how Arcite lay among all this and amid what treasures; and how Emily, as was the custom, applied the funeral torch, how she swooned when men made the fire and what she spoke and what she thought; what jewels men cast into the fire when it was burning high; how some cast shields and some spears and certain of their vestments, and cups full of wine, milk and blood into the furious fire; and how the Greeks in a huge company rode three times around the fire toward the left with loud shouts, clattering their spears three times; how the ladies cried aloud three times, and Emily was led homeward; how Arcite was burned to cold ashes; and how the wake was held all that night, and how the Greeks played in the funeral games--all this I care not to tell, nor who wrestled best, naked and anointed with oil, nor who bore him best in a hard clinch; nor will I tell how they went home to Athens when the games were done.

But I will go shortly to the point and make an end of my long tale. In the process of certain years all the lament and mourning of the Greeks was ended by one general accord.

 Then, as I find, a parliament was held in Athens upon certain matters and cases, among which points there was consultation concerning an alliance with certain countries, and how to have full submission of the Thebans. Thereupon this noble Theseus sent after gentle Palamon, who little knew what was the cause; but in his black clothes and with his sorrow he came hastening at the command.

 Then Theseus sent for Emily. When they were seated and all the place hushed, and Theseus had delayed a moment, before a word came from his wise bosom, he fixed his eyes where he wished, and sighed softly with a grave face, and then spoke his will thus.

 "When the great First Cause and Mover created the fair chain of love, great was the deed and high His intent; well He knew why, and what He designed in that. For with that fair chain of love He bound, to certain limits that they could not flee, the water and the earth, the fire and the air. That same Prince and Mover" he said, "has established in this wretched world below for all who are engendered here a certain duration of days, beyond which they may not pass, albeit indeed they may shorten those days. There is no need to cite authority here, for it is proven by experience; I wish to declare only that which is in my mind. Then may men well perceive by this order of things that this same Mover is stable and eternal.

 "Well may a man know, unless he is a fool, that every part derives from its whole. Therefore Nature took not her origin from any fragment or part of a thing, but from a being stable and perfect, descending from there so far until she would become corruptible. Therefore by His wise providence He has so well ordered His works that species and courses of things shall endure only by succession and not eternally. That this is true you may well understand and plainly see.

 "Lo, the oak, which has such a long span of youth after it first begins to spring, and, as we may see, has so long a life, yet at last it wastes away. Consider also how the hard stone under our feet, on which we tread and pass, still wears down as it lies along the way. The broad river at last grows dry. The great towns we see diminish and pass. Then you may see that all these earthly things come to an end. Of man and woman we see well also that at one time or another, in youth or age, they must die, king and serving-boy alike; one in the deep sea, another on the broad plain, another in his bed. Nothing helps; all go that same way. I may well say then that all things must die.

 "Who has ordained things in this way but Jupiter the king, prince and cause of all creatures, converting all things again to their proper source from which they were derived? And to strive against this helps no creature on earth of any degree.

 "Then it seems wise to me to make a virtue of necessity, and to accept well what we cannot avoid, and most chiefly that which is decreed for us all. And whoever complains commits folly and is a rebel against the governor of all things.

 "And certainly it is the greatest honor to a man to die in the flower of his excellence, when he is secure of his fair reputation and has brought no shame to himself or his friend. And when he has breathed his last in honor, his friend ought to be gladder about his death than if his name had grown pale with age and his valor all forgotten. For a man's glory, then, is it best to die when he is highest in fame.

 "To think the contrary of all this is stubbornness. Why would we complain? Why are we filled with sadness because good Arcite, the flower of chivalry, has departed in the course of duty and in honor from this life, this foul prison? Why do his bride and cousin complain here about the welfare of one who loved them so well? Will he thank them for it? No, God knows, not a bit! They hurt both his soul and themselves as well, and profit themselves not at all.

 "How shall I conclude after this long discourse, except to say that that after woe I counsel that we should be merry and thank Jupiter for his grace! And, before we depart from here, I counsel that of two sorrows we make one perfect joy that shall last evermore; and look now to where there is the most sorrow, for there will we first begin and make amends.

 "Sister," he said, "with the full agreement of my parliament, this is my decree: that by your grace you shall have pity on noble Palamon, your own knight, who serves you with will, heart, and strength, and always has since first you knew him, and that you shall take him for your lord and husband. Extend to me your hand, for this is our mandate. Show now your womanly pity. In faith, he is a king's brother's son; and though he has been a poor squire, he has served you so many years in such great adversity, believe me this ought to be considered. For gentle mercy ought to go beyond mere justice."

 Then he said directly to Palamon, "I believe there is need of little preaching to make you agree to this. Draw near, take your lady's hand!"

 Quickly there was made between them the bond called marriage or matrimony by all the council and all the baronage. And thus with all bliss and melody has Palamon wedded Emily, and may God what created all this wide world send all the joy and love to him who has paid for it so dearly.

 Now Palamon is living in complete happiness, in bliss, in wealth, and in health. And Emily loves him so tenderly, and he serves her so gently, that never was there a word between them of jealousy or any other displeasure. Thus ends Emily and Palamon.

 And may God save all this lovely company! Amen.

[/sblock]

Afterwards the Knight asked the crowd what they thought of his tale of honor, and through honorable acts, earning the right to be loved.


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## HolyMan (Dec 25, 2009)

"Well I have never sat through a lecture so full of..." Professor Smiley starts to say. "Let it just be said that your _conjectures_ have merit but honor is neither tangible or recordable. So we must hypothesis that a man's honor is worth what he himself determines it is worth, for such things can not be bestowed or bought." 

The Professor takes a deep breathe, "A man could lie about his deeds or give false testimony against another. So only a man deep inside himself knows the honor he has. And as for love it is such a tangled form of emotion that it is better to leave it to it's own devices than to search it out or try and earn it."

[sblock=ooc] great story DT [/sblock]


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## ethandrew (Dec 29, 2009)

Francis wondered aloud, "How is there honor in Arcite's actions? He forsook his promise to his cousin, to his blood. And then, knowing he was the better warrior, fought his cousin for Emily. And when faced with the ultimate battle, where Emily and Palamon prayed for others, Arcite only prayed for himself. There's no honor in that, not in my eyes."


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 31, 2009)

The baker works over a fire to check on a loaf of bread he has been making from the grain and gives a chuckle, "So senseless death is the final showing of courage and honor?  I'll take a long life and cowardice anytime."  The knight falls silent and says nothing further.  

Experience Points
[sblock]
Chapter 1 complete.

Fenris, ethanandrew, dragonwriter, Holyman, and Theroc: 150xp+25xp RP bonus=175 total xp
[/sblock]


Eventually, the scouts laid down for some much needed sleep while others in the caravan took watch.  It was near morning, when the sun was still hidden yet creating a pink glow on the horizon, that a scream woke the scouts.

They rushed out of their cots, grabbed weapons, and made it to the source to find the baker near a wagon with a half-eaten loaf of bread in one hand.  The cow you had recently procured was tethered to the wagon and watching with typical cow-boredom.  "The thieves took it!  They took the grain," the baker shrieked.  A side panel of the wagon was broken open and empty; the bag of grain that was evidently inside was also missing.

Fresh footprints led from the wagon and disappeared up a rocky hill to the east.


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## Fenris (Jan 5, 2010)

Richard leaped out of his bedroll and upon seeing the disturbance quickly donned his and grabbed his weapon as he prepared to head after the grain thieves.


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## Deuce Traveler (Jan 7, 2010)

The party took time to don their equipment before heading out after the thieves.  Though this slowed the scouts down, it was best to be safe than sorry in such an unknown stretch of land.  They headed out of camp with the baker losing self-control, shrieking odd profanities and brief strange statements like, "Warty, green thieves they are!  Like stunted goblins!"

It took the scouts until noon to track down the thieves as the footprints disappeared several times as the farmland turned into sparse plains, but finally Francis picked up the trail again and took the group a few miles away from the caravan trail to the base of a twenty foot tall, rocky hill.  The footprints had ended at the base of the mound, as the ground was too rough to leave any.  However, smoke from a cooking fire could be seen from where the scouts stood eminating from the center of the hill.

An argument could also be heard, in some foreign and shrill tongue.  It sounded as if the thieves were fighting with one another.

Francis and Sir Richard Goodlake
[sblock]
It's odd, but several times as you've been following the trail the thieves left you could have sworn you heard some kind of small bell ringing in the distance but it would stop when you stopped to listen further.
[/sblock]

OOC: Please make sure your characters are posted and complete in the rogue's gallery as I am beginning to roll for skills and will need to make more rolls very soon.  Link= http://www.enworld.org/forum/plots-places/268038-canterbury-tales-rogues-gallery.html


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 7, 2010)

Duncan pulls his lance from the side of Gaoth's saddle and starts quietly urging his horse up to the hill. He looks over his shoulder and down to the others, speaking softly, "Could any of you perhaps take a quick look over the edge of the hilltop and see how many we face? While I would prefer to make the valiant charge, I understand the benefit of knowing the size of the enemy force."


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## Theroc (Jan 7, 2010)

Alwyn had been busily pondering what deity would curse a cow to a demonic state to join the conversation over Palamon and Arcite, though the story struck him as familiar, as a youth interested in the Gods, he studied much of Saturn and Venus, and Mars and the others.  He kept his own opinion of the story, not speaking outwardly and merely thinking on possible influences.  Still pondering at the end of the night, Alwyn turned in with the others.

When Alwyn awoke, he donned his gear swiftly, pondering if the Betrayer's blessing was still upon him or if he must make another prayer before investigating, checked his arm for the arrowhead which had been imbedded mysteriously in his flesh before following the others, smiling at the prospect of encountering goblins... a sign that the Old Gods still held some influence in the region.

[sblock=OOC]
Apologies for the delay, as I stated in another topic in talking the talk, my PC was out of commission for awhile.[/sblock]


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## HolyMan (Jan 8, 2010)

Reading himself takes a little longer than the others as Professor Smiley has to find Hillford. The others start off without the man but he soon catches up suitcase and hatbox in hand.

When the group reaches the area they believe the bandits are in he sets the suitcase down, opens it and removes some vials from it. After putting the vials in his long coat pockets he undoes the ties on his hat box and lifting the lid, Hillford hops out. "Don't go off to far again please." he says to the toad. 

"Right then all set let's go." he says to the group.

[sblock=Skills]
Concentration +5
Hide +0
Move Silently +0
Listen -1
Spot -1
Climb -3
Jump -3 [/sblock]

[sblock=Spells]
Spells Known:
0 level- Acid Splash, Detect Poison, Resistance, Touch of Fatigue
1st level- Comprehend Languages, Shocking Grasp

Spells per Day
0 level- ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( )
1 level- ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) [/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Jan 11, 2010)

It takes Francis a moment to realize that when Duncan mentioned someone going to scout out the camp, he meant the rogue.  With a sigh, Francis moved quietly up the rough slope and peeked his head over the edge.  The scouts watched as he took some extra time gazing the scene, before he snuck back to the party.  "There's five of them, all a bit short and skinny, but looking more like strange, dirty men then warty goblins to me.  The leader is wearing some sort of helm and all are lightly armed.  I can't recognize their language but they seem to be angry with one another and set to fight.  I think we can sneak up on them, but they are violent and ... odd."

OOC: Sorry for RPing Francis, but I wanted to move this part along.


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 11, 2010)

Duncan nods thoughtfully and a broad smile grows across his young face. "With only five of them, we should easily be able to handle this. I will happily lead the charge. Unless someone else has a different idea of how to handle this..."


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## ethandrew (Jan 11, 2010)

"I don't think '_leading a charge_' was what I had in mind by sneaking in," Francis looked at Duncan with a frown.

"Here's what I suggest, we set up an ambush for them to come investigate the _disturbance_ that they hear up on this hill. When one or all of them show up, we flank them and then Duncan, you charge in from the front and run them down." As he details this plan, he kneels down and draws a rough diagram detailing positions and such.


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## HolyMan (Jan 12, 2010)

"Wait," the Professor chimes in at the mention of ambushes and charging in. "Should we not make sure these men are guilty before we apprehend them? What if they did not steal the grain, or that only one or two did and the rest know nothing." With a scratch to the temple the Professor's face becomes troubled. "We aren't going to kill them first without knowing are we?"

[sblock=ooc]
Hope I 'm playing my alignment right the Professor is LN (leaning towards good) and it mainly comes from a structured background. Schooling and the laws of science both follow strict order so he would want to capture these thieves and have the authorities deal with them. But he will defend himself and his friends if they attack. [/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 12, 2010)

Duncan frowns, considering the professor's words. "Hm. I suppose you are right. Sorry, but my zeal does get the better of me. We should be sure of them before we try anything... So, Francis, did you see the grain with them? You also said they seemed like they were close to fighting... Perhaps they will attack each other and we can wait for them to be finished before making our presence known."


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## ethandrew (Jan 12, 2010)

OOC: DT - With Francis's 'Smatterings' Feat, would he be able to make out a bit of what's being discussed?

"You aren't thinking broadly enough, these are the bandits that torched the farmer's land, killed his family, then realizing a nice juicy caravan had plucked a grain sack they'd forgot, well, they came to claim their prize," Francis lied, not knowing if this was true or not but figured it was logical enough to appease to those who thought things through first. "Seems we'd be doing a service to those future caravans and God himself."


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## Theroc (Jan 12, 2010)

Alwyn blinks at the debate.  "Francis, if you are sure of what you said, why do we not simply cut them down now?  Or does your God frown on removing murderers and thieves from this world?"


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## ethandrew (Jan 12, 2010)

With a smirk and a couldn't-care-less shrug, Francis responds curtly, "Simply because if we charge down this hill, with the distance we be forced to cover, they'll have time to arm and prepare. However, if we catch them unawares, possibly splitting their group, it would be much easier, one would think."

He pauses, letting Alwyn believe the slight on his God was overlooked before he finishes up, "My God is a just and fair God: _'eye for an eye.'_"


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## Theroc (Jan 12, 2010)

Alwyn smirks at the comment himself, before responding.  "So, your God would have the whole world blind?  I'll keep that in mind..."  Before he replied to the rest as well.  "So, we try to sneak up on them... and then kill them all?"


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## Deuce Traveler (Jan 15, 2010)

Francis
[sblock]
You are able to pick up a few words, as their language seems to be an ancient form of Sanscrit.  There seem to be a number of different conversations going, and the short men may not be arguing with one another but instead something unseen.  One man seems to be yelling about how he can fly or is a flying lizard, another shouts about a fire creature erupting forth from the ground, a third cries out that his sword has become a serpent of some sort and so on.

The conversations don't seem to relate to one another, though you might be off in your language skills.
[/sblock]


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## ethandrew (Jan 15, 2010)

Francis holds up his hand to cease conversation, curious to find if they've already been discovered. He slinks close to the ground and moves to spy the fearsome-five once more. After a few moments, he comes back to the group. "I can't see the grain sack, but I did make out a bit of what they were saying, and you all wouldn't be pleased," he pauses to catch his breath and gather his thoughts for a moment. "If I were to take a guess, I'd say they were possessed by demons, with talk about swords of serpents, fire beasts coming from the ground, we need to destroy them and soon."

He goes back to drawing in the dirt, "Professor, you'll be our bait. I need you to crest this hill like you're walking home, see the five and shriek aloud, turn tail and run back here. Duncan, when they come around to find the professor, you'll need to ride around behind them, charge down any who remain in camp, but most like they'll all come running forth. If that's the case, just keeping rounding til you run them from behind. We'll be hiding here and spring forth when they get here. Does that work for everyone? Professor?"


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## HolyMan (Jan 15, 2010)

"Demons? Are you sure? The same as the cow." the Professor says seeming to ponder. "No maybe not demon's but some sort of dementia." he says to himself. "What-? Walk up the hill and then coming screaming back down? I could do that, I guess." he says in answer to Francis instructions. 

As the Professor starts to trod off and up the hill he turns to the others, "Look after Hillford for me if.. if anything should happen to me." he says then turns and marches up the hill.

"Can't be demons but what could cause a delusional disorder in so many at once." the group hears the Professor say to himself as he walks off.


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## Deuce Traveler (Jan 19, 2010)

The professor trots up the hill, with his fellow scouts focused on him and ready to provide cover.  As soon as he reaches the top, however, he relaxes and calls the rest of the party over to check out the scene.  The screaming and yelling men are oblivious to the group as they go about their activities.  The scouts watch as the five small and dirty men fight and argue with... nothing...

The largest of the so-called "goblins" stabs at the campfire with a twig as if trying to either stab or perhaps conjure something in the flames.  He wears an interesting helmet and doesn't seem to have much luck with... whatever it is he's doing...

Another of the small men is on top of a large rock overlooking the rest of camp and flopping up and down while moving his arms rapidly.  He makes what sounds like eagle impersonations.

The third and fourth men are circling around the camp while chasing each other.  When one gets too close he shrieks and turns around, causing the chased to swap with the chaser.  The keep picking up sticks, small rocks and other objects in an attempt to wound the other.  Neither thinks about using the knives at their sides.

The fifth man is curled up in a fetal position, rocking himself back and forth while staring at the fire and mumbling to himself.

As you take in more of the curious scene a bell can be heard ringing louder.  Somehow a familiar-looking cow got close to you unheard until now, and continues its walk up the hill before taking in the scene and giving a loud, echoing "MOOOOOOOO!".

The five humanoids stop in mid-crazy, causing the entire hill to become silent except for a swishing cow tail, and for a moment the tension builds as the thieves all simultaneously turn their heads to stare at the scouts.  Before they can realize their possible threat one throws a rock at the other and they ignore the party once more and go back to their various insanities.  If a cow could swish its tail in frustrated disgust, the one next to you seems to do so now.


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## ethandrew (Jan 19, 2010)

Francis stares, mouth slightly agape. "Told you. Demons," he states absentmindedly. "But somehow I'd feel bad for killing them."


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## HolyMan (Jan 20, 2010)

"Killing them...!?" Professor Smiley says nearly choking on the words. "We could just walk in and take the grain back and kleave these men to their mental suffering." Looking back down on the group of insane men he shakes his head. "No time to study them Reginal, make some quick observations, starting with the cow."


[sblock=ooc] Spot check on the cow? Sense motive anything to give more clues about it, please. [/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Jan 21, 2010)

The professor stares at the cow for a long moment, then shrugs his shoulders and approaches the center campfire.  The crazed men leave him unmolested and don't even seem to notice him.  He takes a closer look at the grain.

Professor
[sblock]
You can't tell anything odd about the cow, but the small, grimy men seemed to have just recently eaten some breakfast.  The bag of grain is open and it's obvious upon looking inside that it has been infested with some kind of mushroom.  You have heard of bad mushrooms having a negative effect before and wonder how much they've had and how much has been ingested by the baker and others back at camp.  The baker was acting quite odd, wasn't he?  Yelling of goblins and all that... Oh no...

OOC: A DnD version of this Psilocybin - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
[/sblock]

The professor gasps.  Something about his loud reaction causes a negative reaction from the helmed man and the two running around in a circle (the one imitating a bird tries feebly to flop over to the professor, but is having a hard time with it and the fifth is still rocking himself).  These three craved men surround the professor and pick up rocks and sticks, murder in their eyes.


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## HolyMan (Jan 22, 2010)

"Ee-Gads," the Professor says noticing the bag, and then he notice the men surrounding him. "Ee-GADS!! HELP!"

With nowhere to run the Professor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a vial.  "St-stay back!" he yells at the men.

[sblock=ooc] Ready action to "cast" Acid Splash on anyone looking to approach in melee range. Will "cast" before they can have an AoO. [/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Jan 27, 2010)

OOC: Giving this a little bump.  Combat is initiated and round 1 will be resolved by this time tomorrow.  I'll make the rolls.  Just need you to state actions.


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## HolyMan (Jan 27, 2010)

Gripping the flask of acid tightly the Professor shakes it at the approaching men. "Don't make me use this," he says in a near scream.

[sblock=ooc]
Giving you some helpful info 

Casting  Acid Splash  at closet target before anyone gets into AoO range.

+3 to hit, ranged touch attack [/sblock]


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## ethandrew (Jan 27, 2010)

Francis - HP: 8/8 - AC: 15
F: 2 - R: 5 - W: 1

"Oh, dear Christ!" Francis exclaims as he quickly charges down the hill toward the escalating commotion. As he runs a light crossbow appears out in a flash, firing upon one of the advancing demons.

Francis will do a full move action, quick draw his crossbow, and attack one of the nearest attackers. +3 1d8 19-20x2. If, for some reason, the target is flat-footed, 1d6 sneak damage. Initiative Bonus: +3.


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## Theroc (Jan 27, 2010)

As Alwyn noticed battle was imminent, he shouted.  "SAVNOK, TO ME!"  as he called upon the deity to which he bound his soul for now, seeking protection from their weapons.  He grinned as he readied himself, knowing that to attack him would be nigh futile.

[sblock=OOC]
Full Round action to call a Masterwork Full Plate suit onto Alwyn, with which he is currently proficient due to his pact with Savnok.  Alwyn also has DR 1/Piercing.[/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Jan 28, 2010)

As the dirty men grew menacingly closer, the Professor let loose with his acid, splashing the closest man in the neck and chest, causing him to scream.  The scream was silenced by a bolt from Francis.

One of the two remaining small men struck the Professor from behind with a knife, cutting a glancing blow along his ribs (-2 hps to Professor Smiley.  Sir Goodlake stopped the charge of the other by nearly impaling him, but the small man leapt back just beyond the point of the sword.  

Alwyn suddenly surprised his companions with a new, shiny piece of mail that he must have been hiding underneath his baggier clothes.  Duncan Reed was busy maneuvering his horse up the hill and past the cow, causing him not to be able to engage this round.


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## HolyMan (Jan 28, 2010)

*Professor Smiley Round 2*

The cut to his back hurting the Professor thinks he should end this fast. Pulling up his sleeves he reveals two wristbands made of odd (and different) materials. One looks to be wool or fur and the other looks coarse and grainy. He quickly starts to rub the wristbands together, and then reaches out to grab the man with the bloodied dagger.

[sblock=actions]
Standard action: Cast Shocking Grasp on the defensive. Don't forget 10% spell failure chance. 
Move action: 5' step to get away from attacker give rooom for others to attack. [/sblock]

[sblock=stats]
HP: 6/8
AC: 15
Spell Fail: 10%
Spell save: 12 + spell lvl
Concentration: +5
Melee touch attack: +0

Spells per day:
0- (x) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( )
1- ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) [/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Jan 28, 2010)

Duncan grumbles as Gaoth stumbles and slowly picks his way over the terrain. The horseman is eager to join the fray now that the little men have shown such hostility. He grabs his lance and goads Gaoth to get moving!

[sblock=OOC]
Apologies for me missing this. For those of you that didn’t catch my notice in the Talking the Talk Forum, my computer went into a downward spiral, so my access was pretty much cut off. But I’m back now!

Duncan will try to make a mounted charge at the nearest hostile crazy-man. His lance deals double damage on a mounted charge, and he will use Mounted Combat to negate the first attack against Gaoth, if it comes up. I would appreciate it if you would just roll for me, DT, as InvisibleCastle absolutely hates me.
[/sblock]


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## ethandrew (Jan 29, 2010)

Francis - HP: 8/8 - AC: 15
F: 2 - R: 5 - W: 1

Having felled the acid splashed demon, Francis finishes his advance on the enemies with a quick tumble to help get into a more advantageous position. And as quickly as he brought out his crossbow, it's gone and replaced with a large sap, intending to thump some skulls instead of cleave them. As long as one remains alive.

Quick Draw to pull out the sap. +3 1d6+3. He'll tumble to get into position if need be - Tumble +7.


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## Deuce Traveler (Feb 1, 2010)

The Professor reached out, lightly tapping the flat of the blade that just cut him, causing the small man to yell in pain and drop the weapon.  Francis knocked the electrocuted and surprised man out with a sap to the forehead.

Sir Goodlake tried to catch the last of the now-hostile attackers, but missed, though Alwyn's spear flashed next and ran this third attacker through, killing him.  Duncan moved into position, but the only hostile man left was the harmless one flopping on the ground with his arms flapping and making bird of prey noises.  Duncan's horse breathed heavily its hooves found purchase on the grassy hill-top, its front hoof accidently kicking a clay dish of mostly eaten bread, freshly made from the stolen grain.


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## ethandrew (Feb 1, 2010)

Seeing all the demon-men either dead or unconscious save for the one looking like a fish out of water, Francis walks over to him with his chest heaving due to exertion and gives the man a rather vicious thump on the head with all his might.

Coup de grace for the flopping bird-man with a sap, so just to knock him out.


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## Deuce Traveler (Feb 2, 2010)

OOC: There is also the guy rocking himself back and forth, but he has done little but mumble incoherently.


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## Theroc (Feb 2, 2010)

Impaling the man with his spear and withdrawing swiftly, Alwyn Bancroft had taken his first human life.  In his full armor, the boy flinched as he realized that the man's lifeblood would spill forth and he would die.  Steeling himself, he whirled to search for any other hostiles, before mentally praising the Old Gods for their protections.

"It would seem we have triumphed over these... men..."  The boy murmured, observing the aftermath of their brief skirmish.  "Are we all unhurt?"  He asked simply, in a way which implied serious injury.


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## HolyMan (Feb 2, 2010)

Looking the man to whom he shocked the Professor shakes his head. "That little static electricity trick should not have hurt him so," he muses. "Maybe the steel of his weapon amplified the jolt."

Holding his wound with one hand Professor Smiley picks up the weapon that cut him with his other, more intent to study it that bandage it's dirty work.


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## Dragonwriter (Feb 2, 2010)

Duncan calmly walks Gaoth into the camp. "Well that was quick..."

The young man has a rather puzzled look on his face. It's obvious that he feels bad about not being able to help, but also pleased that everyone else handled themselves so well.

He looks at the strange cow and then to the sack of grain. "Here, let's lift that grain up. I'll balance it and we can get back to the caravan. I'm afraid there's nothing we can do to help these madmen... Unless one of you knows how to drive out evil spirits."


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## Theroc (Feb 2, 2010)

"All I know about evil spirits is that I should see them as well... and I see none.  This does not make much sense..."  The boy replied, curious as to how the influence of the old gods eluded his senses even as they protected him.


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## Deuce Traveler (Feb 2, 2010)

Professor
[sblock]
The knife is old and dull and looks more suitable for kitchen work and not otherwise dangerous.
[/sblock]

As the party follows Duncan to the sack they notice a strange fungus growing on top of the grain.


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## ethandrew (Feb 2, 2010)

Francis, who had not joined the others by the grain sack, instead pulling the two bodies of the unconscious madmen together, while keeping a wary eye on the rocking mumbling man. "These two still yet live, I only knocked them out, and with the third here, well, we can take them back to the caravan for others to sort out their fates."


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## HolyMan (Feb 3, 2010)

Dropping the old blade, Professor Smiley looks deep in thought as he looks around the little mens camp. "I believe we are missing something here gentlemen. And it isn't evil spirits." he says starting to roll his sleeves back down. "These men were acting strange, but each in his own way. Just as the old man was acting strange when we encountered him and his cow." He again pauses deep in thought, "And I would say another person acting strangely this day was that baker."

The Professor starts in with his lecturers tone as he continues his hypothesising[sp?]. "What do the old man, the baker, and these men all have in common?" he asks looking at everyone and his eyes then stopping at the sack of grain. "Anyone have an ideal?"

[sblock=OOC]
Wisdom is 9 so I am trying to play it out, which means he doesn't notice the answer especially when it is in front of his face. [/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Feb 8, 2010)

<bump> Little help for Holyman... and check OOC thread.


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## Theroc (Feb 8, 2010)

Alwyn frowns, pondering a moment as he culled his memory.

"We recovered the grain from the old man who died attacking his cow.  We were woken later by the baker who was going to use the grain to bake with, claiming he was robbed by goblins.  The men we found who had stolen the grain... seem to be lunatics... it seems the grain is the common factor..."


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## HolyMan (Feb 15, 2010)

"Then we must not give it back to the baker, perhaps it would be better to destroy it. Then tell him it was lost." The Professor says. "We do not want the others to start behaving like these men."


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## Dragonwriter (Feb 15, 2010)

Duncan nods. "Well, the easiest way to destroy it would probably be through fire. Shall we just chuck it in the firepit?"


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## HolyMan (Feb 15, 2010)

"No wait.." Reginal says quickly. "I do not know what would happen should you inhale the smoke, even accidently. In India certain smokes can cause hallucinations."


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## ethandrew (Feb 15, 2010)

"Why don't we bury it?" Francis asks casually. "It needn't be more than a foot deep. And what do we do with these three?" He points to the two unconscious men and the one still suffering the effects of the tainted grain.


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## HolyMan (Feb 16, 2010)

"Without knowing anything precisely about what the grain did to them, I can only surmise that they may come out of there troubles by morning." The Professor states. "Disarming them and then letting them go would be what I suggest."


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## Deuce Traveler (Feb 17, 2010)

OOC: I'll update this time tomorrow.  I'll see how the group decides to proceed or who is winning the argument before the post.


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## ethandrew (Feb 17, 2010)

Francis switches gears abruptly, "We are just mere scouts, agents of the caravan. It is not our duty to decide the fates of these men or the tainted grain. Let us bring it back to the caravan and let them decide." He nods his head sharply, "That ought to absolve us of any responsibility."


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## Theroc (Feb 17, 2010)

"If we bury it, would it not grow into some sort of demonic crop?  As for the thieves, I say leave them to their accursed state and let them sort out their lives afterwards.  If the grain is indeed cursed in some fashion, it is likely punishment enough to be cursed by the Gods... no mortal need inflict further punishment, 'lest the gods accuse him of hubris..."  Alwyn advised, still in full armor, though placing his spear on his back.


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## Deuce Traveler (Feb 18, 2010)

The party ultimately decided to take the grain back, but left the crazed little men to their own devices.  The odd cow followed them sullenly on the return hike down the slope, through the grass, and over several short hills to the camp.

As the scouts grew close to camp they smelled the scent of burning wood and heard loud screams.  They raced forward and topped the last hill to see several panicking caravan-mates with buckets running to and from the camp water barrels.  The men were desperately trying to put out a fire that had spread along the side of a wagon.  One caught the sight of the scouts and yelled, "Quickly, help before we lose the wagon!  That Baker's gone crazy, he has.  The bloke knocked out the Knight with a rock to the back of the head and started attacking the other campers, and a couple of his apprentices have also seemed to have gone mad and joined in."

There are several buckets by the water barrels, and the flaming wagon is sixty feet away from them.  The wagon-side closest to the barrels is aflame, though the whole vehicle looks like it might be swallowed by the fire in any moment.  The six caravan travelers are not having much of an effect on the fire and are panicked and lacking coordination.


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## HolyMan (Feb 18, 2010)

Dropping his suitcase and the hat box with Hilford in it, the Professor runs to the water barrel. Picking up a bucket and filling it he syas to the closest cavaranie[??] "No, no. Make a line, and pass the buckets to each other. And throw the water at the base, at what's burning not at the top of the flames. Hurry now!" Handing off the bucket he picks up another and starts filling it.


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## ethandrew (Feb 19, 2010)

Slowing from his hurried sprint to the caravan fire, Francis nears the men dousing the fires, "Where did the baker and his men go? We need to find them now!" The intensity of the fire was causing sweat to bead up on the brow of the Pardoner's assistant.


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## Theroc (Feb 19, 2010)

Alwyn drew his spear once more, knowing he was not very well equipped for dealing with a fire, but he was well equipped for fighting baker's and crazy helpers.

"I will help deal with them.  I just hope we can avoid killing them..."  Alwyn mutters, wondering if this insanity was the old god's revenge for their abandonment...


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## Deuce Traveler (Feb 23, 2010)

The Professor quickly takes charge of the fire line, grabbing some of his comrades as well as the remaining responders into a somewhat organized line.  Through his instructions they were able to keep the fire from spreading, and it quickly became a question of who would wear down first.  The sweating sinews of the helping scouts and responders, or the fire which sought to feed itself throughout the rest of the wagon.

Francis and Alwyn leapt past in the direction where one of the responders pointed, their eyes seeking out the Baker among men and women who raced through the chaos to and fro in confusion.  It didn't take long for them to find their target, as the form of the Baker and two of his comrades were seen among the panicking travelers.  The three men were armed with makeshift clubs and obviously crazed, with trails of lather worked up among the corners of their lips and violence in their red eyes.  Several moaning forms lay near these three men, and it seemed that the innocent bystanders were mostly left alone once dropped with a dull thwack from blunt weapon.  Their rampage had not gone unimpeded, for the Baker and his two companions were themselves bloodied and bruised, though their injuries did little to slow them.  With a shriek, the Baker focused his vision on Alwyn's visage and began to rush towards him with his two assistants in tow, quickly closing the 40 feet between him and the two scouts.

OOC: Francis and Alwyn, roll for init and declare actions.  Everyone else is 120 feet away and putting out the wagon fire, but can opt to help their companions instead.


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## ethandrew (Feb 23, 2010)

Francis 'of Assisi'
HP: 8/8 - AC: 15

Francis looks at Alwyn, "Looks like we found them and they're looking for a fight. Let's stick together, go after the same guy and try not to kill them." As he shouts this amid the chaos, the screaming, the glowing red of fire, he pulls out his long sap, waiting for one of the crazed bakers to charge at him before he can sidestep and thump them in the skull.

Initiative of 15. Attack nearest foe to him and Alwyn, +3 1d6+3 (additional 1d6 Sneak Damage if flanking).


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## Deuce Traveler (Mar 1, 2010)

Francis and Alwyn make short work of the Baker, with Alwyn stopping the crazed man's screaming war cry with a quick jab to the gut with the butt of his longspear.  While the Baker gasped for breath, Francis moved to his flank and knocked him out with a sap blow to the back of the head.

The two assistants acted with greater wariness once their leader had fallen, engaging in a sort of deadly dance with the two scouts.  This stalemate was finally snapped a minute later by the burlier of the two men, who planted his gnarled club squarely into the nose of Alwyn, eliciting a scream and crimson cloud from the binder's now-broken nose (critical hit, -10 hps to Alwyn, who is now at 0 hps, but he is still standing and functional).

The Professor, Sir Goodlake, and Duncan Reed finally saw the team of fellow travelers they were commanding get an advantage over the fire.  The wagon's flame had diminished enough for two quick thinking men to unfurl a canvas from the back of the wagon and smother the remaining fire.  Although the wagon continued to smoke and was nearly ruined on its left side, it was still operable.  One of the travelers said to Professor Smiley, "We can take care of the rest, sirrah!  Find the Baker and his assistants and put them down before they do any more damage."

OOC: Professor Smiley suffered from muscle fatigue during the extinguishing of the fire, -1 to his hit and melee damage until he can attain a good night's rest.  The fire team can see Alwyn and Francis fighting two of the Baker's assistants a little more than 80 feet away.  The Baker is further back and face down in the dirt near the hand-to-hand skirmish.


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## Dragonwriter (Mar 3, 2010)

Duncan nods and looks about for signs of the crazed baker and his assistants. Upon seeing Francis and Alwyn fighting the insane men, the Scot gives a shout and spurs Gaoth towards the fight, bringing his own lance about to bear. The paladin tries to just smack or shove either of the combatants, not wanting to kill them. They were, after all, poisoned or possessed due to that strange grain.

[sblock=OOC and Rolls]
Initiative: 15
If possible, I'll have Gaoth charge (and move on, with Ride-By Attack) so I can use the lance's double damage for a non-lethal attack. Attack and Damage: 1 and 6+8.
And if either of them hits Gaoth, here's a Ride check to replace his AC (Mounted Combat): 24.
Stupid IC... nat 1 attack roll, then 20 on the Ride check.
[/sblock]


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## HolyMan (Mar 3, 2010)

Wiping his forehead with a sleeve the Professor looks around. "We need to help them." stating the obvious. 

[sblock=OOC] The Professor will close towards the fighting group but try to stay out of melee. So stops about 30' from the fight and yells encouragment. [/sblock]


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## Theroc (Mar 3, 2010)

[sblock=OOC]
I'd like to apologize for my lack of response, Deuce.  I meant to reply to this but time got away from me.[/sblock]

Alwyn was stunned by the blow to his nose, his face bleeding quite obviously.  Apparently the protection of the betrayer was not perfect...  he attempted to move himself away from the melee, to assess his injury and further act.

[sblock=OOC]
Alwyn will take a 5' step away from the melee.  Also, just for my own knowledge, did Alwyn's Damage reduction 1/piercing apply to that attack?  I wasn't sure if the effects of Alwyn's binding were remembered or not.[/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Mar 4, 2010)

Francis grunts as one of the crazed men glances his ribs with a strike from his opponent's club (-2 hps to Francis), while Alwyn takes another hit against his chest (-2 hps to Alwyn, who is now at -2 hps).  Despite the blow, Alwyn is able to stay conscious once more though he starts coughing blood.

Francis missed his opponent with an awkward lunge, which made the assistant fall right into the path of a smiling Duncan.  Duncan's lance cracked Francis' opponent across the top of the man's head and knocked him out.  Alwyn somehow stayed conscious and also struck forth with the butt of his longspear catching the assistant in his ribs and crumpling him.  The assistant wasn't killed, but a few of his ribs were broken and it would be awhile until he would be able to stand up again...

With the Baker and his assistants subdued, the fire put out, and Alwyn stabilized by Duncan's steady hand, the camp started restoring a semblance of order.  Alfred Fayweather came as he wiped sweat from his stressed face.  "Thank you again.  A thousand times, thank you!  What could have caused this, though?  Are we cursed or has the Baker been possessed by the devil himself?"

A familiar cow walked up and gave a questioning Mooo?


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## HolyMan (Mar 8, 2010)

Startled by the sudden appearance of the cow, the Professor takes a step away from the ood creature.

Looking at the man who spoke he takes on a lecturers tone, "It was not devils or hobgoblins or anything else of that sort. The baker and his assistances took doses of a rare herb that caused hallucinations and..." the Professor stops seeing the befuddled look on the man's face.

Frowning he says, "They ate some bad bread."


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## Deuce Traveler (Mar 9, 2010)

The Professor’s words were finally understood and spread through the camp, though there was a small faction that considered the Baker possessed by the Devil and considered dunking him in a river for a few minutes to see if he would float or putting him under a large stone to see if he would use demonic strength to save himself.  This faction, led by a clean-cut, arrogant Reeve by the name of Oswald, eventually relaxed their aggression once the Baker and his apprentices regained their normal selves once the food passed through their systems.  “Ack!  I didn’t mean to do no harm!  Besides, from the feeling of my head I believe I took more lumps than I likely gave.”  It was quite clear that the self-centered man was coming back to his senses, though it wasn’t until the next day that he and his helpers weren’t untied from their ropes and the back of the burnt wagon they were unceremoniously tossed on.

             The mood of the caravan was sullen, as the travelers discussed whether or not the journey would be cursed.  After all, perhaps the early bit of bad luck was a test from God that should be endured with good grace and faith, or maybe it was a punishment for unknown sinners inside the caravan.  The few days traveling between Damascus and Baalbek went without further danger, though on occasion a small, squat man could be seen in the distance observing the caravan.  A tribal member of the Baker’s so-called “goblins”, perhaps?  Who could say?  The cow also caused no further trouble for the scouts, though the clumsy animal almost broke the foot of the caravan leader when he got too close and wasn’t paying attention.  Oswald the Reeve also found a load of cow patty caked over onto his boots once when he left them unattended.

          Alwyn was unable to go join his fellow scouts at first, having to heal from the severe wounds he had taken.  The scouts kept ever vigilant during the days that they traversed in front of their companions, and it was after the fifth evening that the towers of Baalbek were seen from a high hill.  By the time they arrived, all of the scouts were healed fully once more and were fresh once again.  The city used to be called Heliopolis, and it was a jewel of trade and beauty during the heights of Greek civilization and a religious center under the Romans.  The last orange rays of sunlight played upon the ancient, stained pillars which lined the settlement and could be seen in contrast to several glittering mosques.

      Although the caravan pushed hard to get into the town by nightfall, both men and animals were exhausted and a camp was made inside an abandoned and forgotten temple to some unknown Greek God overlooking Baalbek.  The stars began to appear in the clear sky, and a fire was started in the center of the temple as several camp members started cooking up some food.  The combination of starlit sky, abandoned temple, and ancient town provided quite a view for the scouts, who took a moment to enjoy flasks of wine and a plate of bread and vegetables from the caravan leader, Alfred Fayweather.

       To break up some of the tension, a friend of the Baker who was a wart-nosed Miller decided to entertain the travelers with a bit of a bawdy tale and asked the scouts to join.
[sblock]

A while ago there dwelt at Oxford a rich churl fellow, who took guests as boarders. He was a carpenter by trade. With him dwelt a poor scholar who had studied the liberal arts, but all his delight was turned to learning astrology. He knew how to work out certain problems; for instance, if men asked him at certain celestial hours when there should be drought or rain, or what should happen in any matter; I cannot count every one. 

 This clerk was named gentle Nicholas. He was well skilled in secret love and consolation; and he was also sly and secretive about it; and as meek as a maiden to look upon. He had a chamber to himself in that lodging-house, without any company, and handsomely decked with sweet herbs; and he himself was as sweet as the root of licorice or any setwall. His Almagest, and other books great and small, his astrolabe, which he used in his art, and his counting-stones for calculating, all lay neatly by themselves on shelves at the head of his bed. 

 His clothes-press was covered with a red woolen cloth, and above it was set a pleasant psaltery, on which he made melody at night so sweetly that the entire chamber was full of it. He would sing the hymn Angelus ad Virginem, and after that the King's Note. Often was his merry throat blessed. And so this sweet clerk passed his time by help of what income he had and his friends provided. 

 This carpenter had newly wedded a wife, eighteen years of age, whom he loved more than his own soul. He was jealous, and held her closely caged, for she was young, and he was much older and judged himself likely to be made a cuckold. 

 His wit was rude, and he didn't know Cato's teaching that instructed that men should wed their equal. Men should wed according to their own station in life, for youth and age are often at odds. But since he had fallen into the snare, he must endure his pain, like other people. 

 This young wife was fair, and her body moreover was as graceful and slim as any weasel. She wore a striped silken belt, and over her loins an apron white as morning's milk, all flounced out. Her smock was white and embroidered on the collar, inside and outside, in front and in back, with coal-black silk; and of the same black silk were the strings of her white hood, and she wore a broad band of silk, wrapped high about her hair. 

 And surely she had a lecherous eye; her eyebrows were arched and black as a sloe berry, and partly plucked out to make them narrow. She was more delicious to look on than the young pear-tree in bloom, and softer than a lamb's wool. From her belt hung a leather purse, tasseled with silk and with beads of brass. 

 In all this world there is no man so wise who could imagine such a wench, or so lively a little doll. Her hue shone more brightly than the noble newly forged in the Tower. And as for her singing, it was as loud and lively as a swallow's sitting on a barn. And she could skip and make merry as any kid or calf following its mother. Her mouth was sweet as honeyed ale or mead, or a hoard of apples laid in the hay or heather. She was skittish as a jolly colt, tall as a mast, and upright as a bolt. She wore a brooch on her low collar as broad as the embossed center of a shield, and her shoes were laced high on her legs. She was a primrose, a pig's-eye, for a lord to lie in his bed or even a yeoman to wed. 

 Now sir, and again sir, it so chanced that this gentle Nicholas fell to play and romp with this young wife, as clerks are very artful and sly, on a day when her husband was at Osney. And secretly he caught hold of her genitalia and said: "Surely, unless you will love me, sweetheart, I shall die for my secret love of you. And he held her hard by the thighs and said, "Sweetheart, love me now, or I will die, may God save me!" 

 She sprang back like a colt in the halter, and wriggled away with her head. "I will not kiss you, in faith," she said. Why, let me be, let me be, Nicholas, or I will cry out, ‘Alas! Help!' Take away your hands, by your courtesy!" 

 But this Nicholas began to beg for her grace, and spoke so fairly and made such offers that at last she granted him her love and swore by Saint Thomas of Kent that she would do his will when she should see her chance. 

 "My husband is so jealous that unless you are secretive and watch your time, I know very well I am no better than dead. You must be very sly in this thing." 

 "No, have no fear about that," said Nicholas. "A clerk has spent his time poorly if he can not beguile a carpenter!" 

 And thus they were agreed and pledged to watch for a time, as I have told. When Nicholas had done so, petted her well on her limbs, and kissed her sweetly, he took his psaltery and made melody and played fervently. 

 Then it happened on a holy day that this wife went to the parish church to work Christ's own works. Her forehead shone as bright as day, since she had scrubbed it when she had finished her tasks. 

Now at that church there was a parish clerk named Absolom. His hair was curly and shone like gold, and spread out like a large broad fan; its neat part ran straight and even. His complexion was rosy, and his eyes as gray as goose-quills. His leather shoes were carved in such a way that they resembled a window in Paul's Church. He went clad precisely and neatly all in red hose and a kirtle of a light watchet-blue; the laces were set in it fair and thick, and over it he had a lively surplice, as white as a blossom on a twig. God bless me, but he was a sweet lad! 

 He knew well how to clip and shave and let blood, and make a quittance or a charter for land. He could trip and dance in twenty ways in the manner of Oxford in that day, and cast with his legs back and forth, and play songs on a small fiddle. He could play on his cittern as well, and sometimes sang in a loud treble. In the whole town there was no brew-house or tavern where any tapster might be that he did not visit in his merrymaking. But to tell the truth he was some-what squeamish about farting and rough speech. 

 This Absalom, so pretty and fine, went on this holy day with a censer, diligently incensing the wives of the parish, and he cast many longing looks on them, and especially on this carpenter's wife. To look at her seemed to him a sweet employment, as she was so sweet and proper and lusty; I dare say, if she had been a mouse and he a cat, he would have pounced on her immediately. And this sweet parish-clerk had such a love-longing in his heart that at the offertory he would take nothing from any wife; for courtesy, he said, he would take none. 

 When at night the moon shone very beautifully and Absalom intended to remain awake all night for love's sake, he took his cittern and went forth, amorous and jolly, until he came to the carpenter's house a little after the cocks had crowed, and pulled himself up by a casement-window. 
	Dear lady, if your will so be,
	I pray you that you pity me 
 he sang in his sweet small voice, in nice harmony with his cittern. 

 This carpenter woke, heard his song and said without hesitation to his wife, "What, Alison! Don't you hear Absalom chanting this way under our own bedroom-wall?" 

 "Yes, God knows, John," she answered him, "I hear every bit of it." 

 Thus it went on; what would you have better than well-enough? From day to day this jolly Absalom wooed her until he was all woe-begone. He remained awake all night and all day, he combed his spreading locks and preened himself, he wooed her by go-betweens and agents, and swore he would be her own page; he sang quavering like a nightingale; he sent her mead, and wines sweetened and spiced, and wafers piping hot from the coals, and because she was from the town he proffered her money. For some people will be won by rich gifts and some by blows and some by courtesy. Sometimes, to show his cheerfulness and skill, he would play Herod on a high scaffold. 

 But in such a case what could help him? She so loved gentle Nicholas that Absalom may as well go blow the buck's-horn. For all his labor he had nothing but scorn, and thus she made Absalom her ape and turned all his earnest to a joke. This proverb is true—it is no lie.  Men say it is just so: "The sly nearby one makes the far dear one loathed." For though Absalom may go mad for it, because he was far from her eye, this nearby Nicholas stood in his light. Now bear yourself well, gentle Nicholas, for Absalom may wail and sing "Alack!" 

 And so it happened one Saturday that the carpenter had gone to Oseney, and gentle Nicholas and Alison had agreed upon this, that Nicholas would create a ruse to beguile this poor jealous husband; and if the game went as planned, she should be his, for this was his desire and hers also. And immediately, without more words, Nicholas would delay no longer, but had food and drink for a day or two carried softly into his chamber, and instructed her say to her husband, if he asked about him, that she did not know where he was; that she had not set eyes upon him all that day and she believed he was in some malady, for not by any crying out could her maid rouse him; he would not answer at all, for nothing. 

 Thus passed forth all that Saturday; Nicholas lay still in his chamber, and ate and slept or did what he wished, until Sunday toward sundown. This simple carpenter had great wonder about Nicholas, what could ail him. "By Saint Thomas," he said, "I am afraid all is not well with Nicholas. God forbid that he has died suddenly! This world nowadays is so ticklish, surely; to-day I saw carried to church a corpse that I saw at work last Monday. Go up, call at his door," he said to his boy, "or knock with a stone; see how it is, and tell me straight." 

 This boy went up sturdily, stood at the chamber-door, and cried and knocked like mad: "What! How! What are you doing, master Nicholas? How can you sleep all day long?" 

 But all was for nothing; he heard not a word. Then he found a hole, low down in the wall, where the cat would usually creep in; and through that he looked far into it and at last caught sight of him. 

 Nicholas sat ever gaping upward as if he were peering at the new moon. Down went the boy, and told his master in what plight he saw this man. 

 The carpenter began to cross himself and said, "Help us, Saint Frideswide! People know little what shall happen to them. This man with his astronomy is fallen into some madness or some fit; I always thought how it would end this way. Men were not intended to know God's secrets. Yes, happy is an unlearned man that never had schooling and knows nothing but his beliefs! 

 "So fared another clerk with his astronomy; he walked in the fields to look upon the stars, to see what was to happen, until he fell into a clay-pit that he did not see! But yet, by Saint Thomas, I am very sorry about gentle Nicholas. By Jesus, King of Heaven, he shall be scolded for his studying if I may. Get me a staff, Robin, so that I can pry under the door while you heave it up. I believe we shall rouse him from his studying!" 

 And so he went to the chamber door. His boy was a strong lad, and quickly heaved the door up by the hinges, and it immediately fell flat upon the floor. Nicholas sat ever as still as a stone, ever gaping into the air. This carpenter believed he had fallen into despair, and seized him mightily by the shoulders and shook him hard and cried wildly, "What, Nicholas! What, ho! What, look down! Awake, think on Christ's passion; I cross thee from elves and unearthly creatures!" And at that point he said the night-spell, toward the four corners of the house and on the outside of the threshold of the door: - 

	Jesus Christ and sweet Saint Benedict
	Bless this house from every wicked sprit.
	For the night-hag, the white pater noster;
	Where did you go, Saint Peter's sister? 

 At last this gentle Nicholas began to sigh sorely, and said, "Alack! Shall the entire world be destroyed again now?" 

 "What are you saying?" said the carpenter. "What now! Think on God, as we do, we men that work." 

 "Fetch me a drink," said Nicholas, "and after I will speak privately of a certain thing that concerns you and me both. I will tell it to no other man, you can be sure." 

 The carpenter went down and came again bringing a large quart of mighty ale; and when each of them had drunk his share, Nicholas shut his door fast and set the carpenter down beside him. 

 "John, my dear host," he said, "you shall swear to me here on your honor that you will reveal this secret to no creature; for it is Christ's own secret that I show you, and if you tell it to any you are a lost man. For this vengeance you will receive, therefore: if you betray me, you shall run mad!" 

 "No, may Christ and His holy blood forbid!" said this simple man. "I am no blabber, and though I say it myself, I am not wont to prate. Say what you will, I shall never utter it to man, woman or child, by Him That harrowed hell!" 

 "Now, John, I will not deceive you," said Nicholas; "I have found by my astrology, as I have been looking in the shining moon, that now a Monday next, about a quarter through the night, there shall fall a rain so wild and mad that never was Noah's flood half so great. This world shall all be drowned in less than an hour, so hideous shall be the downpour. Thus shall all mankind perish in the flood." 

 "Alas, my wife! And shall she drown?" this carpenter answered, and nearly fell over for sorrow. "Alas, my Alison! Is there no remedy?" 

 "Why yes, before God, if you will work according to wise advising," said gentle Nicholas; "but you may not work out of your own head. For thus says Solomon, and he was right trustworthy, "Work all by counsel, and you shall never repent." And if you will work after good advice, I undertake without mast or sail to save both her and you and me. Have you not heard how Noah was saved, when our Lord had warned him that the entire world should be destroyed with water?" 

 "Yes," said the carpenter, "I heard it long, long ago." 

 "Have you not heard also," said Nicholas, "the woe that Noah and his sons had before he could get his wife aboard? He had rather than all his black rams then, I dare be bound, that she had had a ship all to herself! Do you know then what is best to do? This thing calls for haste, and on an urgent matter one may not preach or delay. Go immediately and get us directly into this house a kneading-trough or else a brewing-tub for each of us (but make sure that they are large), in which we may swim as if in a barge and have in enough provisions for a day - we will need no more. The water shall slacken and run off about nine o'clock on the next day. But Robin your boy must not know of this, and I cannot save your maid Jill either. Do not ask why, for even if you ask me I will not tell God's secret. It ought to suffice you, if your wits are not turning, to have as great a grace as Noah had. I shall save your wife, I promise you. Go your way now, and make haste. (

 "But when you have obtained these three kneading-tubs for us three, then you shall hang them from the rafters high in the roof, so that no man notice our device. And when you have done this, and laid our provisions in them nicely, and an axe as well to strike the cord in two when the water comes, and when you have broken a hole on high in the gable toward the garden over the barn, so that we may freely go on our way when the great shower is past - then you will float as merrily, I will be bound, as the white duck after her drake. Then will I call out, ‘How, Alison! How, John! Be merry; the flood will soon pass.' And you will answer, ‘Hail, Master Nicholas! Good morning, I see you well, it is daylight now!' And then we shall be lords over the entire world until we die, just as Noah and his wife! 

 "But one thing I warn you of strictly. Be well advised on that night when we have entered aboard ship that none of us speaks a word, neither calls nor cries, but we must be in our prayers. For that is God's own precious command. And your wife and you must hang far apart, so that there will be no folly between you, any more in looking than in action. Now that all this plan is explained to you; go, and may God help you! Tomorrow at night, when people are all in bed, we will creep into our kneading-tubs and sit there, awaiting God's grace. Go your way now; I have no time to make a longer sermon of this. Men say thus: "Send the wise and say nothing." You are so wise that there is no need to teach you. Go, save our lives, I entreat you." 

 This simple carpenter went his way often crying "alack!" and "alas!", and told the secret to his wife. And she was wary, and knew better than he what this quaint plan was about. But nevertheless she acted as if she would die, and said, "Alas! Go your way at once and help us to escape, or else we are all lost; I am your true, faithful wedded wife. Go, dear spouse, and help to save us! 

 Lo, how great a thing is feeling! Men may die of imagination, so deep may the impression be. This simple fellow began to quake; he thought he could truly hear Noah's flood come wallowing like the sea to drown his honey sweet Alison; he wept, wailed and made sorrowful expression, and he sighed with many a sorry gust. He went and got himself a kneading-trough, and after that a tub and a cask, sent them secretly to his house and hung them in the roof. With his own hand he made three ladders, to climb by the rungs and uprights into the tubs hanging among the beams; and supplied tub and trough and cask with bread and cheese as well as good ale in a large jug, sufficient for a day. But before he had made all this gear, he sent his serving boy and girl to London about his business. And as it drew toward night on the Monday, he lit no candle, but shut the door and ordered all things as they should be; and, in brief, up they all three climbed, and sat still while a man could walk a furlong.

 "Now mum, and say a pater noster!" said Nicholas; and "Mum!" said John, and "Mum!" Alison. This carpenter sat still and said his prayers, ever listening for the rain, if he could hear it. 

 The dead sleep, for very weariness and apprehension, fell on this carpenter even about curfew-time or a little later, as I suppose; he groaned sorely in the travail of his spirit, and eke snored, for his head lay uneasily. Down the ladder stalked Nicholas, and Alison sped down very softly; and they were in mirth and glee, until the bells began to sound for lauds, and friars in the chancel began to sing. 

 This parish-clerk, amorous Absalom, always so woe-begone for love, was at Oseney on that Monday to amuse himself and make merry, with a party; and by chance he secretly asked a cloister-monk after John the carpenter. The monk drew him aside out of the church. "I know not," he said; "I have not seen him work here since Saturday. I believe he has gone where our abbot has sent him for timber, for he is accustomed to go for timber and remain at the grange a day or two. Or else he is at home, certainly. In truth I cannot say where he is." 

 This Absalom grew very merry of heart, and thought, "Now is the time to wake all night, for certainly since daybreak I have not seen him stirring about his door. On my soul, at cockcrow I shall knock secretly at his window which stands low upon his chamber-wall. To Alison now will I tell the whole of my love-longing, and now I shall not fail at the least to have a kiss from her. I shall have some sort of comfort, in faith. My mouth has itched all day long; that is a sign of kissing at least. 

 All night eke I dreamed I was at a festival. Therefore I will go sleep an hour or two, and then I will wake all night in mirth." 

 When the first cock had crowed, up rose this frisky lover, and arrayed him in his gayest with all nicety. But first he chewed cardamoms and licorice to smell sweetly, before he had combed his hair, and put a true-love charm under his tongue, for by this he hoped to find favor. He rambled to the carpenter's house, and stood still under the casement, which was so low it reached to his breast. He gave a soft half-cough,-"What do you, sweet Alison, honeycomb? My fair bird, my darling! Awake, sweet cinnamon, and speak to me. You think right little upon my sorrow, who sweat for your love wherever I go! 

 No wonder though I languish and sweat! I mourn like a lamb after the dug. In faith, darling, I have such love-longing that I mourn like the true turtle-dove. I cannot eat, no more than a maiden." 

 "Go from the window, Jack-fool," she said. "On my soul, there will be no singing "Come kiss me now." I love another better than you, by heaven, Absalom, and else I were at fault. Go your ways, or I will cast a stone at you, and let me sleep, in the Devil's name!" 

 "Alas!" he said. "Alackaday that true love was ever so ill bestowed! Then kiss me, since it may be no better, for Jesus' love, and for the love of me." 

"Will you then go your way with that?" she said. 

"Yes, surely, sweetheart," said this Absolom. 

"Then make yourself ready," she said, "I am coming now." 

And to Nicholas she said silently, "Now hush, and you shall laugh your fill." 

This Absolom set himself down on his knees and said, "I am a lord of the highest degree; for after this I hope there will come more. Sweetheart, your grace, and sweet bird, your favor!" 

She unlatches the window, and does so in haste. "Take this," she said, "come now, and move quickly, lest our neighbors see you." 

This Absolom wiped his mouth dry. Dark as pitch, or as coal, was the night, and at the window she put out her hole, and Absolom, who knew no better or worse but with his mouth he kissed her naked ass so sweetly, before he was aware of this. 

He started aback, and thought something was amiss, for well he knew a woman has no beard. He felt something all rough and long-haired, and said, "Fy! alas! What have I done?" 

"Tee hee!" she said, and shut the window, and Absolom went forth with troubled steps. 

"A beard! A beard!" said handy Nicholas, "By God's body, this goes fair and well." 

This foolish Absolom heard every bit, and on his lips he began to bite angrily, and said to himself, "I shall pay you back." 

Who rubs now, and who chafes now, his lips with dust, with sand, with straw, with cloth, with chips, but Absolom, who says over and over, "Alas! I commend my soul unto Satan"? But I would rather be revenged for this insult" he said, "than own this entire town. Alas," he said, "alas, that I did not turn aside!" 

His hot love was now cold and entirely quenched; for from that moment that he had kissed her ass, he cared not a straw for things of love, for he was healed of his sickness. Often the things of love he defied, and wept as does a child that is beaten. 

This Absalom walked slowly across the street to a smith called Master Gervase, who forged plough-instruments at his forge. He was busily sharpening coulter and share when Absalom knocked very gently and said, "Unlock the door, Gervase, and do it quickly." 

 "What! Who are you?" 

 "It is me, Absalom." 

 "What, Absalom! By the cross, why are you up so early? Eh, God bless! What ails you? Some pretty girl, God knows, has brought you to stir so early. By Saint Neot, you know well what I mean!" 

 This Absalom cared not a peascod for all his mocking, and returned not a word in kind. He had more wool on his distaff than Gervase knew, and said, "Dear friend, that hot coulter in the chimney--lend it to me. I have something to do with it; and I will bring it you again right away. 

 "Surely," answered Gervase, "even if it were gold or nobles in a bag all uncounted, you should have it, as I am a faithful smith! Eh, the Devil, what do you want to do with it?" 

 "That is as it may be," said Absalom. I shall tell you tomorrow;" and he took up the coulter by the cool handle. Softly he went out the door and went to the wall of the carpenter's house. He coughed first, and knocked withal upon the window, as he did before. 

 "Who is there that knocks so?" Alison answered. "I warrant it a thief!" 

 "Why nay," he said, "God knows, my sweet, I am your Absalom, my sweetheart. I have brought you a ring of gold; my mother gave it me, on my life! It is very fine and nicely engraved. I will give you this, if you kiss me!" 

 This Nicholas had risen to take a piss, and he thought he would contribute to the joke; he should kiss him before he ran off! And he threw up the window in haste and quietly put his ass out--past the buttocks, all the way to the thigh-bone. Thereupon spoke this clerk Absalom, “Speak, sweet bird, I know not where thou art.” This Nicholas then let fly a fart as great as a thunder-clap, so much so that with the stroke Absalom was almost blinded; and he was ready with his hot iron and smote Nicholas on the ass. 

 Off went the skin, about a hands-breadth around, the hot coulter burned his rump so, and for the pain he thought he would die. "Help! Water, water! Help, help, for God's sake!" he cried like a madman. 

 The carpenter started out of his slumber; he heard one cry wildly "Water!", and thought, "Alas! Noah's flood is coming now!" He sat up without a word, and with his axe struck the cord in two, and down went tub and all; they stopped for nothing until they came to the floor, and there he lay in a swoon. 

 Up started Alison and Nicholas, and cried "Help!" and "Alack!" in the street. The neighbors young and old ran to stare upon him as he lay yet in a swoon, for with the fall he had broken his arm. 

 But he must even digest his own trouble, for when he spoke he was talked down by Alison and gentle Nicholas. They told every man he was mad, he was aghast so of "Noah's flood" in his fantasy, that of his folly he had bought him three kneading-tubs and had hung them above in the roof; and had prayed them for God's sake to sit with him in the roof, to keep him company. 

 People laughed at his odd quirk; into the roof they peered and gawked, and turned all his trouble into mirth. For whatever the carpenter answered, it was all for naught; no man heard his speeches, he was so sworn down by the great oaths of the others that in the entire city he was held as mad. Every clerk then agreed with every other clerk: "the man is mad, my dear brother!" And every creature laughed over this contention. 

 Thus the carpenter lost his wife, for all his watching and jealousy; and Nicholas was sore burned. This tale is done, and God save the entire company. 

Here ends the Miller's Tale. 

[/sblock]

“So, how did you like my tale,” the Miller asked his audience eagerly.
The Baker seemed a bit rosier after the story, and some tension seemed to leave the crowd who forgot about the insanity of the last few days.  Some, however, such as the Knight and the Reeve frowned in displeasure.
OOC

[sblock]
Each character gains 500xp, though Francis, Duncan, Alwyn and the Professor gain an extra 100xp for roleplaying and constantly posting.
[/sblock]


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## HolyMan (Mar 13, 2010)

[sblock=OOC] Took three tries but I finally got threw that, I hate reading on a computer. That is one of my favorites and I had to read it all in case of the changes. LOL [/sblock]

The Professor sitting with the other scouts, Hrmphs! at the part where the Miller says _"happy is an unlearned man". _But continues to politly listen as the tale finishes. "A _learned_ man would have known not to fart in someones face. He could give them conjunctivitis, and a poke in the arse be fair play if you ask me." he says in all seriousness.

[sblock=OOC] I think it a challenge to play a high INT low WIS character. How much does he "know" over how much he has "experienced". 

*"You jedi should know the differents between intelligence and... hehe wisdom."  -* Dexter, Star Wars Episode 3 [/sblock]


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## ethandrew (Mar 22, 2010)

"Such a tale, were it true! The beauty of Alison must be one to behold, though a bearded lady I favor naught," Francis quipped after the Miller had told his tale.


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## Deuce Traveler (Mar 24, 2010)

The crowd chuckled at the tale, and the responses from the scouts.  It would seem that even the seriousness of the Professor was missed and humor was found in his words.  It was quite late by the time the tale was done, and the scouts and the stoic Knight were asked to stand guard 20 meters down the trail from the temple.  "I'll take the first watch," offered the Knight.

The scouts found an overgrown stone circle to lay their bedrolls upon, the stones of which were darker and crumbling from age; giving the remaining architecture a look even older than that of the ancient, nearby temple.  The scouts rested and finaly were taken by sleep under the brightly starlit sky...

... and were woken by the sounds of drums.

The ruins of the stone circle were gone, replaced by a newer circle of bleached white stone and undecipherable obsidian runes set into carved grooves.  The stars above were also gone, though the sky cast a pale illumination as if by the light of an unseen full moon.  From the stone circle was a trail made of pebbles that led upwards to a large structure, that stood in the place of the larger, but now-missing Greek temple.  The structure was foreboding, it's front face lit by several evenly spaced braziers raised up by three-foot high pedestals.  Humanoid statues stood between the braziers and the entrance of the structure, casting long shadows upon the building's walls.  The sound of the drums came from somewhere deeper inside, and their rythm was both seductive and hair-raising.  You have a strong urge to answer their call.

The Knight was also gone, replaced with a regal-looking, dusky figure with gray robes, a shaven head, braided beard, snakeskin belt, and sandals.  Though middle-aged and healthy looking, he leaned heavily upon a long, ironwood sceptre with its top haft jagged and broken away.  *"So, after all these years my prisoner has finally broken our wards and once more reached the living.  I know it was inevitable, but I had foolishly hoped my master would never terrorize this land again."*  The man speaks in an ancient language, but you are somehow able to understand him.


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## HolyMan (Mar 24, 2010)

"Halford?... HAALL..Ford!" the Professor calls out. Worried his traveling companion had gotten lost as he believed he now was lost.

[sblock=question] did are equipment come to this strange place with us? [/sblock]


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## Theroc (Mar 24, 2010)

Alwyn had been brooding a bit on how unhelpful the armor he had called upon the Betrayer for had been.  He could only suppose he had been betrayed, or perhaps that he was simply not skilled enough to make use of the gift.  Either way, he did not feel much like revelling with strangers at the current time, and simply retired early.  As he awoke, he reached for his spear in case he were to be attacked, looking for others from the Caravan.


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## Deuce Traveler (Mar 24, 2010)

OOC:  All your equipment is with you as well as pets and mounts and familiars, which are as you can imagine, quite spooked.


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## ethandrew (Mar 25, 2010)

It takes a moment or two for the realization of what has occurred to sink in for Francis, he climbs up from his resting spot and approaches the Knight, "Where are we? Why have you brought us here?" His tone wasn't necessarily pleasant nor was it threatening.


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## Deuce Traveler (Apr 6, 2010)

The dusky man looked insulted and said, *"It was not I who brought you here, but your own recklessness.  We left signs etched inside the stone circle of which you slept and yet you did not heed them.  Of course, it was over 2,000 years ago that my former master was banished and so perhaps it is not entirely your fault.  Unfortunately, he has you now and he won't easily let you go.  He has become greatly weakened in these last years.  Perhaps confronting him will make him expel more of his energies until his hold on this realm is shaken and you are able to break back through the wards and to freedom.

Long ago, Varath was a powerful god that I was picked to worship when I was but a child. His area of responsibility lay in giving nightmares to people, and many worshipped him in the hopes of placating him. At first, it is said that he was a fair deity.  As I grew into adulthood I found him to be somewhat cruel, granting nightmares to those who needed warning or who had guilt on their consciences. However, over time, he grew bored and dangerous, forcing nightmares into the sleep of every individual he could and making sleepless nights for everyone.  Sleeplessness led to paranoia... paranoia to madness...

Eventually, I led a rebellion against him, defeating his avatar in a mighty battle, slaying his remaining insane priests, and burning his temple to the ground. The stones of it were shattered, the rubble reduced to dust, and the parched earth abandoned. 

Varath’s name passed from living memory, and then out of all but the dustiest of books, and now all that remains is a piece of circular stone where no being ever stopped at before … especially not to sleep. For Varath was still waiting, on the edges of the world, and his only path to return is through the minds of sleeping humanity … and that is why he brought you here.  He needs you to help him return to earth, in a similar way that you need him to release his hold on you so that you may return and your body not waste away."*

OOC: Sorry I have been slow... on another road trip...


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## Dragonwriter (Apr 6, 2010)

Duncan looks about, a wild light in his eyes. The light dies down as the old man speaks and when he finishes, the young paladin has several questions... "Two thousand years? Any prison wears to dust in that great time. What made you think this... thing, that you claim to be a god, would be held for that long, when you knew you would die? But a more pressing thought is, how do we trust you, and how do we return to waking?"

As Duncan speaks, he looks over the strange man, evaluating his stance and listening carefully to his speech.

[sblock=OOC]
Detect Evil. A Paladin has to do what a Paladin has to do. 

And I'm not worried about the pace. Frankly, I meant to post sooner too...
[/sblock]


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## HolyMan (Apr 6, 2010)

"There you are," Professor Smiley says leaning down to pick up his oversized toad. He listen to the dusky man's mad tale and outrageous claims with the calm of any scholar.

"Rubbish you wish for worldly men such as oursleves to believe in evil spirits that oppress people during sleep. It has been studied and nearly proven that nightmares are due to stress and anxiety. Eating before bed, which triggers an increase in the body's metabolism and brain activity, is a potential stimulus for nightmares. So your God of Bad Dreams sounds like a tale to scare children to me."

Returning Halford back to his hatbox the Professor stands and dust of his lab coat. "Will you please show us the way back to the caravan? Please."


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## Deuce Traveler (Apr 13, 2010)

The man seems shamed by the questions. *"I admit we could have tried to do more, but we were not sure of his power.  If we had failed, all the plains may have been subjugated and the will of our people forever broken.  If you wish to question our resolve, however, let it be known that many of us died to do the little that we had managed.  And yet death was not the worst fate of my fellow betrayers.  For myself, I was not able to move on to the other world, but was instead shackled to the future of my defeated master.  I do not know what will happen to me if you emerge victorious.  However, I would risk limbo if it means that the terror in the temple will not haunt mankind again."*

To the Professor he says, *"So you believe this is a figment of your imagination?  I am the one who has waited for countless centuries.  Perhaps it is I who should believe myself mad, and see you as a figment of my own imagination."*

As the Professor walks a few feet to get back to the caravan, he suddenly realizes that the ground disappears a few hundred feet off the pathway to the temple.  The ground there seems to be made of nothing but inky blackness, which confounds the Professor even more.

Duncan
[sblock]
You do not detect evil from the man, however the aura of the temple flares with a feeling of wickedness so intense that it nearly stuns you even from this distance.  The evil feels ancient to you somehow...
[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Apr 13, 2010)

Duncan stumbles backwards, a hand clutched to his head. He winces and shakes his head to clear it of the overwhelming darkness of the area. He gasps once, then turns to look at the professor. “Careful, sir. Your words come close to blasphemy. And speak plainly!”

Duncan looks back at the strange dream-man.  “If many of your people died fighting, then how do _we_ stop this Varath?”

[sblock=OOC]
HM, you do recall the limited scientific knowledge at this point in time, right? And the power of the Church? And that Francis works for a Church official?

Just want to point these things out before you say something that might get you burned at the stake. 
[/sblock]


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## HolyMan (Apr 13, 2010)

[sblock=ooc] I always put 14th century in my googling for pharses and tech terms. It seems that around that era the names were just starting to be made up!  And no sorry did not remember you are a man of the cloth or at least the great churches arm that can smite her enemies. [/sblock]


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## ethandrew (Apr 14, 2010)

Francis frowns visibly, he didn't like this one bit, the whole situation reeked of evil. He pulled up the cross he wore around his neck and kissed it once before tucking it back under his shirt. He watched the interchange between Duncan, The Professor, and the messenger, curious, cautious.


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## Deuce Traveler (Apr 15, 2010)

*"You're presence here means that he'll want to manifest himself to you, which will drain his energy.  If he expends much of his strength, he will lose more control over his realm and parts of the temple will be claimed by the ethereal nothingness you see around us.  You don't want to fall into the nothing, but if you can sap enough of his strength then Varath will have to choose between fading into nothing or remaining a glimmer of himself while letting you go back to the waking land.  A warning... if you decide to accept Varath you will strengthen him again with your worship.  Having a god indebted would come with consequences best left unimagined, both for you and your people.  Varath is a trickster of sorts.  Be wary."*


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## Deuce Traveler (Apr 21, 2010)

<bump>


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## ethandrew (Apr 22, 2010)

Deuce Traveler said:


> *"You're presence here means that he'll want to manifest himself to you, which will drain his energy.  If he expends much of his strength, he will lose more control over his realm and parts of the temple will be claimed by the ethereal nothingness you see around us.  You don't want to fall into the nothing, but if you can sap enough of his strength then Varath will have to choose between fading into nothing or remaining a glimmer of himself while letting you go back to the waking land.  A warning... if you decide to accept Varath you will strengthen him again with your worship.  Having a god indebted would come with consequences best left unimagined, both for you and your people.  Varath is a trickster of sorts.  Be wary."*




Francis looks leery, mixed with an annoyed resignation. "So how do we sap his strength? Just by interacting with him, talking to him?" The young man shrugs, it didn't seem too bad. And really, what other choice did he have.

With that, Franics makes to the temple, not waiting for the others. He wasn't concerned over Varath tricking him or seducing him into acceptance. His faith was strong.


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## HolyMan (Apr 27, 2010)

The Professor puts Halford in his hatbox and then ties it shut. Standing the lanky man holds his large suitcase and hatbox in seperate hands indicting he is ready to leave. 

'Let's try this sturcture first he may not even be at home." he says walking towards the building.

[sblock=OOC] There is a building isn't there?? I guess we are not going to get any takers on re-recuritment.  Should have more than three. Want us to play two characters or have a couple NPCs join us? [/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Apr 29, 2010)

OOC: There is a building here, and I will NPC the characters that are not being ran for a slight bit longer.

As you approach the handful of steps that lead into the stone building you can see it was put together expertly and by using large, staggered blocks.  The entrance is not blocked by any door, and your eyes see a corridor weakly lit by nearly burnt out torches that stop at a T intersection several yards past the foyer entrance.  The statues that you saw earlier stay blurred in detail despite your proximity, as if part of a dream.


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## ethandrew (Apr 30, 2010)

Francis, taking the lead, looks both to the right and left corridors, curious about which way to go. "Anyone have any preference? I'm inclined to go left."


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## Deuce Traveler (Apr 30, 2010)

As Francis gets closer to the torches their flames suddenly shoot up and brighten in intensity.  The statues themselves come into focus and are a mix of painfully contorted human male and female figures reaching upwards into the sky as if for salvation.  The sound of the drums continue, though they seem louder down the left corridor and somewhat less so down the right corridor.


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## ethandrew (Apr 30, 2010)

"Okay, that was weird," Francis states aloofly, as if something weird and supernatural was unexpected in this bizarre place they found themselves trapped. "I still say let, any objections?"


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## HolyMan (May 1, 2010)

"Wha-? What, oh no lead on if you will." the Professor says turning from gawking at the realism of the statues present.


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## Dragonwriter (May 1, 2010)

Duncan takes his lance and club, leaving Gaoth outside the twisted temple. The place doesn't look like a good fit for a horse. He follows Francis, skeptically eying the disturbing statues... He suppresses a shudder at the sight of the figures as they come into focus.

The young paladin merely nods at Francis, bracing his lance and walking behind his companion.


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## ethandrew (May 3, 2010)

The sound of drums intoxicating, Francis turned toward the left. He was inclined to go that direction in the first place, but he felt a compulsion now, a lure leading him onward. But just as quickly he snapped out of his reverie, wiping his hand over his face, washing away the cloudiness. The man outside had warned him, and he had to keep his wits lest he be trapped here, prisoner to a mad god.


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## Deuce Traveler (May 8, 2010)

The party finds themselves in a small, circular chamber with burning coals emitting a wiff of smoke and a little heat in the center of the 20 foot radius chamber.  The corridor continues directly ahead, and several murals of sleeping people decorate the walls.  On the murals can occassionally be seen a spider hanging from a strand and over a sleeper's head, as if watching over the person.  As you continue your examination, a man-like figure flickers into being, then out of existence, then back in again.  He becomes more solid and real and you can make out features.  The confused man looks as if he were just waking up from a dream and sputters in surprise to find himself standing and in your midsts.  The bearded man is Borric Hawkins, a swordsman of some skill, and a member of your caravan.


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## HolyMan (May 8, 2010)

"And now we are dreaming about other members of are caravan?" the Professor asks with interest. "I don't suppose we could congure up something useful like a door that leads out of here."

He closes his eyes and it looks like he is concentrating on something really hard by the way he screnches his face and brow. "A door out... A door out." he repeats over and over.


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## perrinmiller (May 8, 2010)

Borric, still only half awake, mumbles, “Why certainly miss I would be happy to…” He then blinks and looks around.  He is still holding his mandolin.

He turns to the other members of the caravan and remarks, “O’ ho, it be the scouts of our vanguard.  What’s going on?  Last I remember I was falling asleep after playing a tune or two for that young lass who’s been wiping my brow this past week.”

His eyes get a faraway look as he recalls something.  He strums some notes in tune with his lyrics;
 _“Twas a pervy ole’ poof in Khartoum,_
_Took a lesbian up to his room,_
_But they argued all night,_
_As to who had the right,__
To do what and with what and to whom.”_

With that he carefully stows his mandolin away in his pack.  He looks at his companions taking in that they are armed and ready for action.  He unlimbers his shortbow and says, “Lead on McDuff.”


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## Deuce Traveler (May 10, 2010)

It suddenly dawns at you that Alwyn Bancroft has disappeared.  He was standing next to the Professor and went missing while everyone was distracted by Borric's appearance.


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## GandalfMithrandir (May 10, 2010)

Well! isn't this interesting! someone appears and next someone else disappears! 

ignore minor color changes and such until I get the hang of this character.


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## Dragonwriter (May 10, 2010)

Duncan looks a little mystified. The paladin rests his lance on his shoulder, shaking his head. “This truly is a strange place… Borric, where did you sleep?”

The young Scot takes a few steps past Borric and looks about, though he knows better than trying to look into the truth of things in this place. Last time gave him quite the headache.


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## perrinmiller (May 10, 2010)

Borric replies, "Well I am not sure that I did.  I was trying to... well there was a young lass... I think I followed her... maybe caught her... hmmm... could be I was around the campfire and dozed off, but maybe I sleepily wandered around to take a leak."  He looks down to check his boots to see if he missed and got them wet.

"Frankly I just don't remember.  Could be we are dreaming, but that's a bit too strange now isn't it?  Perhaps instead of my bow I should be using my mandolin, but I don't think the drum rhythm matches any tunes I know."


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## ethandrew (May 10, 2010)

Francis looks suspiciously at the bearded newcomer, "Whatever it is, keep your wits about you, lest we give this place more power to trap us here for eternity." He smirked to himself at the doomsaying as he continued onward, his hands free of weapons but still at the ready. Whether the others follow or not, that's not his concern, he just wanted out of this accursed place.


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## HolyMan (May 11, 2010)

[sblock=OOC] thus leading us to Marching Order?? I will take somewhere in the center. [/sblock]

"Well I don't believe in what that... that Dreamer fellow had to say." the Professor says stepping around the spot where Alwyn was standing. "We will get to the bottom of this." he finishes setting off after Francis.


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## perrinmiller (May 11, 2010)

Borric nods his agreement, "Yes let's be off.  I will act as rear guard next to this scholarly fellow.  I suggest you two precede us following along behind the one leading us onwards."  He gestures for the Paladin and Knight to go ahead  and follow after Francis.


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## Dragonwriter (May 11, 2010)

Duncan nods hesitantly and points his lance forward again, heading after Francis.


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## HolyMan (May 13, 2010)

Nodding in thanks to the newcomer the Professor follows the others.

[sblock=Marching Order] Francis (trapfinding?), The Knight, Duncan, The Professor, Borric is this correct? [/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (May 15, 2010)

OOC

[sblock]
We should have time to finalize the marching order, then admit Voda in before combat is initiated, but if not no big deal.  The nice thing about making this a dream-world encounter is that reality does not have to be adhered to so strictly.
[/sblock]

The scouts continue onward through the following corridor.  The corridor ends only fifty feet or so into some sort of garden or atrium room with a high, but open roof.  Tall hedges line each ivy-covered wall, though their leaves look sickly and dark.  The room itself is roughly twenty feet wide and sixty feet across, and a archway opposite of the party leads to some sort of central chamber.  The floor is a field of overgrown grass which also looks strangely twisted.  Close to the archway stands a man who looks like the priest who welcomed you to this dream world, except his eyes glow a dim red and his face is more drawn and sinister.  He addresses your surprise.  "I am not the Betrayer of Varath," he says.  "Instead, I am an echo of who the priest once was.  A memory of Varath come to greet and test whether you are worthy to become servants of the master.  I am also here to show his power.  He can make reality from memories and dreams and give me a semblance of life.  Imagine what you could do with such power if you were to give your loyalty to Varath the Weaver.  Defeat me and prove your worthiness."


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## HolyMan (May 15, 2010)

The Professor takes in the beautiful garden, that appears to be growing in the middle of a building. He wanders along the hedge row oblivious to the priest before him. He studies the ivy and wonders outloud, "I don't see how this can appear to be dying and yet grow all over the walls like it... Oh hello, what was that you were saying? You wish for us to defeat you? At what excatly? Draughts, _I-go_, Piquet? I don't play cards very well if it's that you may have to find someone else." 

The Professor sets done his suitcase, "I think I have a chess set here."


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## perrinmiller (May 15, 2010)

Borric mutters to the Professor out the side of his mouth as he moves up beside him, "Hope you are better at chess than I am as performing.  But then again this guy could be smart and not too artistic."

A little louder just so the others can hear as well, "The blighter said he was an echo, maybe he's not real.  Should I put an arrow through him to be sure?"


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## ethandrew (May 17, 2010)

"He challenges us willingly, as a gentleman. An arrow would be unfitting," Francis states coolly without taking his eyes off the apparition, even as his hands moves to loosen both his long sap and his rapier.

"What would you have of us, Echo: a game of wits or combat?" the young man calls out.


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## perrinmiller (May 19, 2010)

ethandrew said:


> "He challenges us willingly, as a gentleman. An arrow would be unfitting," Francis states coolly.




Borric speaks to the Professor out of the side of his mouth, "Unfitting aye, he might have a point."  He gives a little chuckle at the pun regarding Francis's rapier, while he puts away his bow and gets his rapier out too.  "Well it if be dueling the echo wants, I'm game, but not so sure about the gentleman part."


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## HolyMan (May 20, 2010)

"What?" the Professor asks, then looking around to see the drawn weapons stops unlatching his suitcase. "Oh no," he says grabbing both the case and hatbox with Halford in it as he tries to back away. "Wouldn't you prefer a nice game of chess?"

[sblock=OOC] I got in a War Games quote how awesome is that,  [/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (May 20, 2010)

Duncan shrugs and sets the base of his lance on the ground, waiting at ease until something more happens.  "If that's the way you want it..."


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## Deuce Traveler (May 20, 2010)

The sound of the drums stop as the man's voice booms, "Good!  You have chosen your weapons as I have chosen my own!" The man rushes towards the party, but only takes a few steps before he falls to the ground and grows into a larger, distorted shape.  Before your eyes the man and his clothes becomes a man-sized spider with large, poison-dripping fangs.

OOC: Actions please.


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## ethandrew (May 20, 2010)

Francis
HP: 8 AC: 15
F: 2 R: 5 W: 1

If Francis was taken aback by the sudden appearance of a large spider, he didn't quite show it. He quickly drew his rapier and moved to dive behind the beast, putting it directly between his companions and the pointy end of his sword.

Initiative Bonus of +3
Using quick draw, he will tumble (+7) to set up a flank with the spider. +3 to hit (+5 if flanking) dealing 1d6+3 (+ 1d6 Sneak Attack if flanking).


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## Dragonwriter (May 20, 2010)

Duncan tries to take a slight amount of cover behind Borric and stab the giant thing with his lance.

[sblock=OOC]
Init bonus is +0.

Move to behind and 1 square to the side of Borric, so I can use my reach weapon in peace.

Standard attack.

Lance (10 ft. reach) +4, 1d8+4 damage. I'd prefer if you roll, DT, as I'm having trouble opening IC.

Duncan AC 12, HP 11/11
Fort +4, Ref +0, Will -1
[/sblock]


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## GandalfMithrandir (May 20, 2010)

Sir Richard lifts his shield and draws his sword, stepping toward the beast and swinging his sword.

Move action to approach spider, attack w/ sword

[sblock=Mechanics]1d20+5=15
if that hit: 1d8+3=6[/sblock]

[sblock=stats] 
Sir Richard Goodlake]

*Initiative +1*
HP: 15/15
AC: 18, Flat Footed: 17, Touch: 11
F: +3, R: +1, W: +2

Attacks: Longsword +5 (1d8+3 19/20)

Skills: Ride +4[/sblock]


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## HolyMan (May 21, 2010)

[sblock=OOC] Ummm... What spider? 
EDIT: oh that spider.[/sblock]

The Professor drops his suitcase but not the hatbox. He pulls forth on of is vials of acid and tosses it at the creature before him, "This is all a dream. A bad, bad dream." he says to the others.

[sblock=Actions]
Free: Drop an item
Move: move back about ten feet from combatants.
Standard: "cast" acid splash (spell failure 10%), ranged touch attack +3 to hit (should possibly be shooting into combat neg unless I go first) 1d3 damage [/sblock]
[sblock=Stats]
HP: 8
AC: 15 T:13 FF:12
INIT: +3
Fort: +1
Reflex: +3
Will: +1

Spells per day:
0- (x), ( ), ( ), ( ), ( )
1- ( ), ( ), ( ), ( ) [/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (May 21, 2010)

*Borric HP 11/11*

HP 11/11  AC 18(with +1 Dodge), FF 13
Saves: F:+3 R:+4 W:+0

Borric is slow on the initiative, good thing he is behind Sir Richard and Francis.  He says, "Gentleman!? In a camel's arse, I shoulda shot him!" He will try to take advantage of Francis's flanking maneuver unless it is only Sir Richard that benefits, otherwise he will keep to the spider's side to keep it from flanking Sir Richard and getting at our two members in the back.  He will assume is fighting stance, flicking the point of his rapier into the spider.

[sblock=Actions]Initiative  (1d20+4=5)
Move Action: Movement into position
Standard Action: Melee Attack  (1d20+6=15, 1d6+2=7) Doesn't include +2 for Flanking if applicable.[/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (May 27, 2010)

The Professor is the first to react, firing a stream of acid that splashes the floor near the giant spider, a bit of which burns the creature slightly.  Sir Richard moved next, meeting the spider halfway and striking hard against its rubbery skin; doing little damage but seeming to phase his opponent through the ferocity of his attack.

In reaction the giant spider moved sideways with alarming speed, just barely reaching the westward wall and climbing partially up it.  A stream of webbing billowed forth from the monstrosity, which badly missed Sir Richard and clung to the far wall (critical miss, the spider will be off balance next round).

Taking advantage of the spider's confusion from its failed attack, Duncan moved forward and stabbed it with such force that he nearly skewered the thing to the wall (critical hit for Duncan).

Francis flanked the spider, then thrust out with his blade with a successful sneak attack.  As the creature writhed in its final death throes, Borric came and ensured there would be not final strike against his comrades with one last jab to its head.

The spider's body slumped to the ground, shuddered, and was lifeless.  Before the startled eyes of the companions the creature turned back into the shape of a man, though now dark, featureless, and dissolving into shadows.

OOC: Wow.  One critical miss that made the creature off balance, followed by a couple critical hits by the party.


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## perrinmiller (May 27, 2010)

Borric exclaims, "Cor! That went well."

Noticing the body's transformation, "What this, he just faded away.  Now what?"  He wonders if they passed the test, but remains on guard in case there is more.


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## ethandrew (May 27, 2010)

Francis wipes the ichor off his blade and sheathes it. "Well, I'd say we passed that test," he says coolly with a sly smile. "I'd say we head in that direction there," he points to the archway in the garden, leading into the darkened central chamber of sorts.


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## GandalfMithrandir (May 27, 2010)

"I agree, as soon as we're out of this place the better with me" says Sir Richard, cleaning his balde and returning it to it's sheath before continuing on.


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## HolyMan (May 28, 2010)

The Professor goes and retrieves his dropped suitcase. Looking at the spo were the man-spider had been he says, "Well this is certainly the strangest dream I have ever had."


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## perrinmiller (May 28, 2010)

Borric agrees, "Aye let's go."  He will take up his place next to the Professor again, clean off his rapier, put it away, and take out his bow again.


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## Deuce Traveler (May 28, 2010)

As the party walks towards the other entrance they hear a shuffling behind them.  The dissolving goo that was the spider-man suddenly stands up in the shape of a column.  An elongated mockery of a human mouth appears on top of the abberation and howls a long, piercing sound of pain and misery.  There is a rending sound, as if a sheet tearing, and the goo bursts into thousands of small, black spiders which land on the ground and gather into two large groups.  The two spider swarms move towards the group, one along the far wall while the other approaches from the floor.


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## perrinmiller (May 28, 2010)

On seeing the spider swarms, Borric exclaims, "OY! Anyone have a torch or something?" Against such a target his bow appears worthless.


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## HolyMan (May 30, 2010)

Watching in amazement at the transformation the Professor cringes at the sight if the hundreds of little spiders. "I suggest we leave," he says turning and running towards the same hallway the group was headed for. 

Remakably the man is very quick on his feet.

[sblock=OOC] Not very quick but a run is x4 if I can do that. This is just the prelude to me getting _Expeditous Retreat_.  [/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (May 31, 2010)

Borric, not having a torch (or flamethrower either), agrees, "Yeah, I will cover you."  He follows along after the Professor.


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## ethandrew (Jun 1, 2010)

"What devilry is this?" the young man exclaimed as he backpedaled toward the hallway, facing the two spider swarms.

"This place is just made of dreams, try to disbelieve. Maybe if we all think it unreal, it will disappear." Francis attempted to rifle through his pack, looking for a torch but only finding a lantern.


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## Voda Vosa (Jun 1, 2010)

OOC; Spider swarms... evil. As evil as a small net.


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## HolyMan (Jun 3, 2010)

ethandrew said:


> "This place is just made of dreams, try to disbelieve. Maybe if we all think it unreal, it will disappear."




"I believe it might be to late for that you already believed in the man-spider, so how can you disbelieve now." the Professor says in one of his rare moments of intellectual insight. 

He runs towards the opposite hall and dropping his suitcase uses it as a stool to reach one of the torches.


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## Deuce Traveler (Jun 5, 2010)

The scouts run into the next hall, although the Professor stops long enough to grab a torch from one of the sconces.  As the party enters the room they can see that it is massive with a series of steps that leads from the center of the 60 foot square room to the far wall.  At the top of the stairs is an empty throne.  The source of the drums appears to be this room, as there are a line of large hide-covered drums on either side of you.  The sound of beating drums rises and grows loud here, though there doesn't appear to be any actual drummers.  The two spider swarms follow the heroes inside, though they begin to crawl along the walls and into the darkness of the high ceiling, making it hard to see what is your tiny, magically-spawned opponents are actually about to do.  

During this short lull of battle you see another familiar person appear as if from nothing.  It is the short and stout Krindorf the Red.


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## Dragonwriter (Jun 5, 2010)

Duncan stops, bracing his hands on his knees, panting for air. “For a land of dreams, this is much more like a nightmare,” he manages, before looking up and seeing the new arrival. The Scotsman stares, mouth agape. ”Another captive? How’d you get in here?”

As he listens for the reply, Duncan looks around the room, trying to keep an eye on the swarming spiders.


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## Voda Vosa (Jun 7, 2010)

Krindorf approaches cautiosly. He narrows his populated eyebrows. *"Ye fer real? Dis whole place, it's like di masterpiece 'f Loki! How did ye get 'n 'ere, how do I know yer fer real and not just another nightmarish creature?"* the Nordic man asks.


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## perrinmiller (Jun 7, 2010)

Borric nods a greeting to the short man, known as Krindorf, "Funny meeting you here.  I'd be happy to give you poke to make sure you are awake."  Though Krindorf has probably seen Borric around the caravan playing his mandolin for a certain young lady, they probably have never spoken before.

Having spent much of his life aboard ship, crawly creatures are not among his favorite things.  He would rather face a grumpy dwarf instead.

While looking around the chamber, he wonders out loud, "Where do you suppose that blighter Varath is hiding?"


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## ethandrew (Jun 7, 2010)

Francis keeps his hands empty, but ready, eager to strike or draw a weapon. He retreats backwards in slow circles, looking up and around the massive room, "This is all Varath, this whole place, and he will appear when we are at our weakest, when our minds are ready to crack. Stay strong, my friends, and keep your wits about you."


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## Voda Vosa (Jun 7, 2010)

The nordic man draws his weapon. *"Show yerself evildoer!"* he proclaims eager to confront the unseen threat.


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## HolyMan (Jun 7, 2010)

Looking about the ceilng, where it looks like the torchlight doesn't reach to, the Professor looks to be close to his wits end. He uses his other hand to hold both his suitcase and hatbox and walks along with the pthers silently. 

The Norseman's presence doesn't stir a reaction from the learned man as he beileves that impossible things can't accur so Krindrof must not be real.


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## Deuce Traveler (Jun 8, 2010)

As the stout nord shouts his challenge, a trickle of black spiders follows from the ceiling to land and bite onto his shoulders, crawling in between the spaces in his armor to attack his flesh.  As the nord shouts the trickle becomes a flood as an entire swarm lands upon him.  (-3 hps to Krindorf).

OOC: Krindorf needs to roll a DC 12 against poison.

The second swarm also falls near Duncan, but fails to connect with the warrior as he swats the first few spiders off his shoulders and rolls out of the way.

The two swarms and Krindorf stands in the middle of the party, as the other party members spread out and circled during the attack.


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## perrinmiller (Jun 8, 2010)

Borric exclaims, "Camel dung! We need more torches to burn them." He runs back the way they came to retrieve two more, putting his bow away in the process.


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## Voda Vosa (Jun 8, 2010)

*"Ah! get off of me!"* shouts Krindorf, as he steps out of the shambling swarm of spiders. The poison in his veins finds a strong resistance, and is fought back. 
*"Odin, protect di servant from dis chaospawns!"*
Krindorf calls upon the protective power of his deity, and back-pedals to a safer position.

[sblock=Actions]
Fort save: 17
Casting protection from evil defensively: 16
Move away from the swarm[/sblock]


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## HolyMan (Jun 15, 2010)

Stepping up to help the Professor tries to get the spiders to swarm away from Duncan and Krindrof.

[sblock=OOC] Not sure if it's an attack a touch attack or what so wwill give you the numbers and you can make any rolls you wish. 
STR +0 BAB +0 DEX +3 so I guess he would have been better off throwing th etorch at them LOL oh well [/sblock]


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## GandalfMithrandir (Jun 15, 2010)

Sir Richard looks back and forth from the swarms to Borric, and decides to help retrieve more torches.

[sblock=OOC]assuming that the torches are not too far away for that to be reasonable (as it is) otherwise he will try to be helpful however he can given the circumstances. STR: 17, DEX: 12, Fort: +3, Ref: +1 AC: 18, Touch: 11, Flat footed: 17[/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Jun 20, 2010)

The party flees back towards the wall near the tunnel, picking up torches as they go.  The Professor covers their escape with his own torch, his arm sweeping back and forth in a long arc.

The swarms are unable to get to the nimble Professor as he expertly dances out of their reach, but you can see it will be only a matter of time before they trap him into a corner of the room.  The Professor attacks in turn, burning the nearest swarm slightly.  Krindorf yells a prayer to his deity, which seems to embolden his will against the near evil.  Borric grabs two torches, then hands one to Krindorf once the Nord finishes his action.  Francis and Sir Richard were nearest to the wall and were able to move, remove a torch each, and move back to flank the Professor, though neither is able to attack before the end of the round.


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## Voda Vosa (Jun 21, 2010)

*"Odin curses you plague!"* yells out Krindorf as he tries to scorch the vermin with the torch. 

Melee Attk: +4


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## perrinmiller (Jun 21, 2010)

Borric exclaims, "Nasty critters, burn!" And he pushes the flame from the torch at the spider swarm.

_<<Melee Attack +5, This is probably against their Touch AC.>>_


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## ethandrew (Jun 21, 2010)

Francis keeps waving the flame in front of him, switching it from one side to another, steadfast determination in his eyes.


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## GandalfMithrandir (Jun 25, 2010)

Sir Richard also will wave the flame in front of him to ward off the swarms, protecting the weaker professor as much as possible.


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## Deuce Traveler (Jun 30, 2010)

Once again, the Professor scorches one of the swarms in front of him, and once more he escapes being harmed as Francis and Sir Richard provide him with even better protection.  Borric attacks the second swarm while being joined successfully by Kindroff.  Francis misses with his swing of a torch, but is satisfied that he kept his comrades out of harm's way.  As Sir Richard puts his flame to the swarm the Professor had been attacking he starts a small fire which leaps from hairy spider to tiny hairy spider, causing most of the swarm to harmlessly disperse in a chaotic flight.

The remaining swarm is made quick work of as the scouts surround it and eliminate the majority of the spiders inside, causing the rest to flee, although not before an almost human-like death cry is shouted out from inside the writhing mass.  The cry continues to resonate, weaker each succeeding time, as the wailing echo is carried by the swarms' remnants into the shadows and finally ceases altogether.

As the panting men catch their breath on the slightly overgrown cobblestones the throne begins to illuminate with pale light from the rays of some invisible moon.  A tall man sits there, his body and face hidden underneath a dusky set of robes and hood, the type sometimes worn by poorer monks.  He claps his hands three times in a slow and loud manner before rising.  "Good, good!  Well done!  You have proven yourselves worthy to become my new servants.  I, Varath, will readily make you priests of the Dreaming!"


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## Voda Vosa (Jun 30, 2010)

*"Me serve Odin and ney other god! Reveal yerself servant o' Loki, I wont be fooled by yer tricks!"* exclaims Krindorf, drawing his weapon.


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## HolyMan (Jun 30, 2010)

The Professor wipes the sweat from his forhead with his sleeve. And then turning towards the clapping he realizes the "man" was not there before was he?

He keeps the torch at the ready whiel he adjusts the suitcase and hatbox carried in his other hand.

[sblock=OOC] Ready action to throw torch and any signs of attack. [/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Jun 30, 2010)

Duncan rests one had on his knee, crouching slightly while he breathes after the swarm. His second tightly grips his lance. As the strange man calls attention to himself, Duncan looks up and takes an involuntary step back. “Are you truly Varath, or another blasted illusion?”


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## ethandrew (Jun 30, 2010)

Francis lets the torch drop to the ground, bits of oiled cloth breaking apart as it rattles and rolls to a stop. He moves between a few of the gathered men, putting a hand on the northman Krindorf's sword hand, staying any potential threat where diplomacy may work. He keeps his words to himself, hoping this Varath answer truly Duncan's question.


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## Voda Vosa (Jun 30, 2010)

Krindorf looks Francis and Duncan and then the unknown man. He decides to hold his hand. For now.


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## perrinmiller (Jul 1, 2010)

Borric not really caring about the answer if the apparition is real or not, steps forward so he can turn back to give his companions a wink to show that the can take his next words in the proper context.  He turns back to Vorath decides to start the diplomacy anyway with touch of sarcasm that he hopes will be lost on the ghostly man, "Well sure, why not? Though I must warn you that I am not particularly pious to begin with.  What kind of reward can we expect for being a Dreamer? Maidens?" 
_
<<Bluff Skill +6 when ready to roll.>>_


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## Deuce Traveler (Jul 6, 2010)

OOC: Successful bluff.

IC: The man continues his descent until he reaches the bottom of the steps and stands about 10 feet away from the adventurers.  _"Oh, I assure you that I am Varath.  And I can promise you that as my servants you can enjoy anything that your heart and mind can imagine.  I offer, after all, the power and control of dreams.  As you journey and spread my name, my powers will return to your world.  As my presence grows, so will your own mastery of dreams.  All each of you have to do is step forward and take my hand;  that will seal the pact and you will be returned to your body and awaken, though you will feel my blessings forever in your mind."_

With that, the man extends his hand so that you might take it.


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## HolyMan (Jul 6, 2010)

The Professor looks at the madman's outstretched hand and then looks to his own. A bit of rabbit fur sticks out from under his shirt and he sets his suitcase and hat box down. 

"Well yes, yes that all sounds very good indeed." He says moving to take the strangers hand. 

At the last instant he brings up his other arm and touches his wrists together as he takes Varath's hand in his own. And...

[sblock=OOC] Ok let's see I am crazy I know but the Professor would think to shock this guy into submission so I have to let him. Will need a Cast on the Defensive roll, (1d20+5) to make sure he doesn't give Varath an AoO. And if it goes off _Shocking Grasp_ (Touch attack at 1d20, dmg = 1d6) ... man do we ever need to level up LOL. [/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Jul 6, 2010)

Borric hesitated a little while considering Varath's words. He contemplated taking the man's hand but wonders if it be like selling one's soul to the Devil and the handshake magically seals the bargain.  He prefers his soul right where it is, thank you very much!

Before he makes up his mind, he spots the professor move forward.

[sblock=OOC]HM, I don't think you need worry about an AoO if he is flat-footed.  But after casting the spell, if Varath has enough Spellcraft to identify what the professor did, then we might have entered combat rounds just before you grasp his hand though.  The rest of us probably have to wait for DT to respond before we can properly post any actions.[/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Jul 11, 2010)

The Professor takes Varath's hand and the robed man seems to squeal in pain for an instant.  However, in the next moment the Professor completely disappears as if conjured away.

"Know ye well, that one of you has accepted the terms of the pact, though he seems to delight in doing so in a manner painful to me.  He will make an excellent servant, and I have returned him to the land of the living, for you can see that I am not a cruel god."

Varath seems a bit unsteady, as the Professor's magic did indeed hurt him.  Though hurt, Varath's shoulders stand higher and he is more enboldened from his new victory.  The robed demigod sticks out his hand once more.  "Who will be next to accept the terms of the pact?"

Professor Smiley
[sblock]
You feel a strange sensation, with a sense that you are lying in your real body which lay sleeping in the camp, though your mind's eye hovers helplessly over the scene of your companions facing off against Varath.
[/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Jul 11, 2010)

Borric, figuring that you only live once, decides to give it a try, "Might as well." 

He reaches to take the hand but it’s a Feint.  Just before he grasps the hand, he whips his rapier up trying to stab this Varath in the heart, “Since you enjoy pain my Lord try this too.”  He’ll grab the hand afterward.
_Bluff +6_
_Rapier +6, 1d6+2 damage_​


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## ethandrew (Jul 12, 2010)

Francis's eyes widen in fear, this is exactly what they were instructed not to do, not to give this Varath more power, more followers. It seemed to matter naught if the intention was true or ill, but should you offer, he will accept and become emboldened by it. He didn't know this Borric, and Borric hadn't been told what Francis had, so all the young man could do was jump forward, shouting, "No! Stop, you dream weaver!"


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## Dragonwriter (Jul 12, 2010)

Duncan’s eyes go wide as the Professor disappears. The paladin quickly recovers and remembers he and the others are here to kill this Varath, not worship him. Calling on his own faith and his personal convictions, he charges the strange dream-man, leveling his lance and driving it towards the being’s chest!

[sblock=OOC]
Charge, if possible, with Lance and Smite Evil. +4 base + 2 charge + 2 Smite for a total bonus of 8 to attack, for 1d8+3 damage +1 for Smite.
[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Jul 12, 2010)

*"For Odin!"* Screams the northen man and charges the shadowy creature.

_1d20+4 (+1 for charging) attack with morning star (1d8+4 dmg)_


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## HolyMan (Jul 13, 2010)

The Professor watches on as the dream continues and wonders...

_Why can't I wake up._ 

[sblock=OOC] Sorry guys guess I'm out of this fight.  Hey DT did Halford make it back from this dream realm also?  [/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Jul 13, 2010)

On hearing and sensing that his companions are going to attack, Borric leaves Varath's hand alone after stabbing with his rapier.
____________________________


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## Deuce Traveler (Jul 21, 2010)

Francis' yell caused Borric to come to his senses, and the new scout goes for impaling Varrath at the end of his rapier, though the hooded man's unnatural reflexes allow him to leap effortlessly backwards and an inch away from its point.  Francis moved to get between Varrath and Borric, and the arced path of his own rapier barely misses the throat of the dodging demigod.  A loud  chuckle escapes from Varrath as if he is enjoying a private joke.

That chuckle is stopped short by Krindorf the Red's morningstar.  Somehow the stout man got behind the demigod and slammed him hard along the flat of his back.  Sir Goodlake and Duncan struck next and at the same time, though only Goodlake landed the next blow as his sword cut into the side of Varrath's robe and came away with black ichor.

Varrath gasped and held his side, but then chanted some kind of incantation and the room filled with darkness.  Another chuckle echoes around the room as you sense Varrath has moved away from the center of the fight.

OOC: Varrath just cast _darkness_.  You are now fighting blind.

Professor Smiley
[sblock]
You sense that Halford is out now as you can't see him among those fighting, although you don't sense him near you either.  Somehow you can see the entire fight despite the darkness.  Varrath has moved with inhuman speed about fifty feet away from where he was before he cast the spell and is staring at the different party members as the darkness obviously doesn't effect him.
[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Jul 21, 2010)

*"Odin! Help thee servant!"* Krindorf yells out, and a white mist surges from him. This otherwordly vapour grants him and his allies a sharper eye in combat.

_Casting Bless.
Moving 6 squares backwards_


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## perrinmiller (Jul 21, 2010)

Borric curses at missing the blighter, "Oy, it got dark in here!" 

He continues in a sing-song tone, "Oh milooord, where ever did you go?"  He moves forward to where he thinks Varrath went hoping he'll come out of the darkness and be next to the cackling mad man and able to strike.

Rapier +7, 1d6+3, 20% miss if still in Darkness and he finds him. The spell only has 20ft radius so we are able to move out from under the spell if the room is big enough.  

____________________________


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## ethandrew (Jul 22, 2010)

Francis backpedals, keeping his rapier gripped in two hands. He tries to keep the cackling voice in front of him, hoping his back can find purchase against a wall, limiting the routes the dream-god Varrath can assault him from. _This isn't real, this isn't real,_ the young man repeated to himself, steeling his resolve and nerves.


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## GandalfMithrandir (Jul 22, 2010)

Sir Richard also backs to a wall, keeping his sword in front of him swinging it toward a noise if he hears the demigod in front or near him.


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## Dragonwriter (Jul 22, 2010)

Duncan growls as darkness clouds his sight. He stumbles his way forward, trying to get out of the cloud.


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## Deuce Traveler (Jul 28, 2010)

The party gets separated, some going forward, others backward, while some stay inside the darkness.

Borric moves forward and out of the sphere, along the right side of the stairs, where he sees Varrath standing another 20 feet away and near the far wall.  Francis moved backward and bumped into the wall shortly after leaving the darkness, but was able to see Varrath from his vantage.  Varrath laughed once more and flung something from the folds of his robes.  The object seemed like something out of nightmares: a black blade of some sort with the lively twitching legs of a spider.  The spider blade missed Borric's left cheek by just a hair and disappeared into nothing.

In the next instance, Varrath touched the wall behind him with his hands and crawled upwards like an inverted spider until he was about 20 feet off the ground and staring down at the party.

Sir Richard stumbled backward to end up next to Francis, while Duncan popped forward and stood next to Borric.  Krindorf finished his spell and was still in the sphere of darkness but could gather the basics of what was going on because of the hollers and yells.


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## HolyMan (Jul 28, 2010)

*In the Realm of Dreams*

_*{{Don't let his illusions fool you!}}*_ 

The Professor screams in his dream. He knows they can't hear him but he wants to try and help all the same.


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## GandalfMithrandir (Jul 28, 2010)

[sblock=OOC]is Sir Richard still in the darkness? if so he will move out of it. Oh what I would do for a bow right now.[/sblock]

Sir Richard yells up at Varath Come down here, you coward!


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## Voda Vosa (Jul 28, 2010)

Krindorf moves out of the darkness, and takes his crossbow out and loads it, he'll attempt to shoot Varath with the power of Odin on his side.

_Crossbow: attack +2; 1d8 dmg_


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## perrinmiller (Jul 28, 2010)

Borric sees that he almost got hit and remarks, "Whoa! That was a close shave.  See how you like this!"  He shifts to some cover, if available within 5 feet, drops his rapier and draws his shortbow.  He fires an Arrow at the wall climbing fiend.

[sblock=Actions]*Free Actions:* 5ft step & Drop Rapier
*Move Action:* Draw Shortbow
*Standard Action:* Shortbow +6 for 1d6 damage
Dodge +1 AC against Varath (forgot about that earlier)
AC18 &  HP11[/sblock]____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## ethandrew (Jul 28, 2010)

Francis
HP: 8/8 AC: 15
F: 2 R: 5 W: 1

Francis, spying Varrath on the ceiling, sheathes his rapier and retrieves his light crossbow off his hip, pressing the stock against his upper arm, and releasing a bolt at the shadow god.

Draw Light Crossbow, attack Varrath. +3 1d8 (30ft range).


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## Deuce Traveler (Aug 4, 2010)

OOC: I apologize, but I'm working on a long update.  I plan to post by tomorrow night.


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## Deuce Traveler (Aug 4, 2010)

Borric loads and fires, but in his haste he failed to load the arrow correctly and fumbles his bow, which bounces harmlessly across the floor (critical miss).   Francis had better luck, firing a quick shot which impaled Varrath in the chest.  The demigod froze in mid-toss and allowed another strange blade to slip from his prepared fingers and disappear somewhere between him and the floor.  "I suppose... being a god isn't what it used to be..."

Varrath fades and melts into the wall, yet the wall seems to fade and melt into Varrath.  The floor goes wobbly, the vision of the scouts hazy, and the victors feel as if they are floating before a new physical sensation takes hold... the feeling of lying down inside the caravan encampment as the sun could be seen rising nearby.

The Professor
[sblock]
You watch incorpeal from above as your companions shimmer and disappear from view.  Varrath climbs down from the wall he had perched upon and says, "I couldn't hold them.  I lacked the power and they were so surprisingly strong.  No matter.  They won the battle, but it seems as if I have won the war."  With that he waves his arm and the stone temple crumbles quickly into dust around the demigod.  There is a realization that the temple housed Varrath, but also acted as a prison of sorts.  Now that prison is gone and all that stands is the cloaked lord of dreams and the crest-fallen dusky priest.

Varrath says in a soft voice, "Your champions have failed, Betrayer.  All this effort for nothing.  Do you feel foolish perhaps?"

*"Foolish?  No, for if the choice came again I would still have been your betrayer.  You are mad, lord.  So very mad, and I my only regret is your freedom."*

The Betrayer's words strike Varrath like a hammer, but the demigod recovers and wraps his hands around the man's neck and heaves him off the floor.  "Do you know what it was like in there?  Do you know how it was to spend countless years with only my own memories to keep company?  Do you know the kind of hell that you had condemned me?!"  The dusky priest's neck snaps under Varrath's crazed rage and a death rattle escapes his lips as he is dropped appearing all the more like a strange lifeless doll.  The anger leaves the demigod's form and he appears almost sorrowful.  "You were the crazed one, Betrayer.  Not me.  It was you and your comrades who had lost all sense.  I offered you the world and you refused me.  But I don't need you anymore, old friend.  I have a new servant.  A better servant, and we will begin a new age together."

Varrath raised his hand upwards towards the Professor, and Smiley felt his body being drawn down from the air and take physical form.  The grip of the demigod was strong, and he found he could not break away as he was drawn closer to the darkness beneath Varrath's head.  The voice commanded him, "You will serve me.  You sealed the pact and your doing so has freed me.   If you obey my dictates you will grow in strength, while failure will lead to your death.  I know you may see my actions towards my former servant as cruel, but those who act against me must be punished.  But know that I can reward as greatly as I can harm, and to you I owe a great debt.  But beware of talking too much about being my servant, for there are those who might not understand and our kingdom is not yet firmly on this earth.  I will lay my kiss on you and those sensitive to my power will know of whom you belong."  Varrath tossed his head back, which allowed the hood of his robe to fall off his features.  For the first time Reginald saw the demigod for what he was, a man with the hairy head of a spider.  Two rows of four varyingly shaped red eyes blinked rapidly and two large fangs gleamed from his upper lip.  Professor Smiley screamed as Varrath opened his jaws wide and pulled the man closer.  "Relax my servant.  After all, this is only a dream and you don't believe in such things..."  The two large upper fangs pierced the Professor's temple and borrowed into his brain...
[/sblock]

Everything seemed to be alright, until the sweat-covered Professor leapt up from his bedding and began to scream while grasping at his head.  He scared the camp half to death, but all realized that he must have simply had a nightmare and the proper jokes and ribbing began.

OOC: Everyone receives 500XP.  They also get an additional 100 XP for post frequency and RPing.  You folks did a great job of keeping up with over 5 pages of action.  Chapter 4 is coming up next.


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## HolyMan (Aug 5, 2010)

The Professor wipes the sweat from his brow with a kerchief as he checks on all the others. When asked about his nightmare he says, "Well you know I can't remember everything no one ever can. But I do remember a giant spider. It was... it was trying to bite my face off." he says with a shiver and then goes silent. 

After making sure everyone is alright he goes to his suitcase and starts to work on another experiment.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 5, 2010)

Borric awakes, but doesn't seem sleepy, his heart still beating faster in his chest.  Since everyone's awake and joking about the professor he takes out his mandolin and performs a little ditty to make fun of Krindorf as well, 
_"Some dwarf men are known to like sheep,_
_Though not in the style of Bo Peep,_
_  They’re hands-on it seems_
_  Which leads to sweat dreams_
_‘Cos the exercise helps them to sleep."_

  [sblock=Actions]*Action:* Perform +3
Decided to fuel the fire for the brawl without waiting for an answer from DT
Initiative +4
AC18 &  HP11[/sblock]____________________________


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 5, 2010)

*"Dwarf men? ye yeld probably stand next to me to see whosdi dwarf boy."* the towering viking stands, even taller being his honour offended. His red beard is crispy as if it takes the offence too.


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## Dragonwriter (Aug 5, 2010)

Duncan concernedly watches the professor until it seems the odd little man is alright. He frowns at Borric’s limerick.  “I wouldn’t recite that one in front of some of my lowland countrymen, either. Some of them take a joke about as well as Krindorf.”


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## perrinmiller (Aug 5, 2010)

Borric, being a tall man, stands up and looks down at Krindorf.  Not down very far, mind you, but he is 3-4 finger widths taller than the viking and says, "Well, I am taller than you.  But not as pudgy."  And the amatuer minstrel pokes a finger into the other man's belly for emphasis.

  [sblock=OOC]I worked out the measurements from your sheet VV.  Krindorf is 6'2" and Borric is 6'4".  He has him by 2 inches, but Krindorf has Borric on weight by about 20kg.  
Initiative +4
AC18 &  HP11[/sblock]____________________________


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 5, 2010)

*"Ye want it I'll give to ye lad." *Krindorf puffs his chest. Concentrating for a moment, Krindorf recites *"Odin, may this fool run like the rabbit he is."*

_Casting Cause Fear on Borric, Will DC 14_

[sblock=Spells]
Lvl0: Detect magic, Create water, Light, Guidance
Lvl1: Cure Light Wounds, Cause Fear, Blessing

[/sblock]


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## ethandrew (Aug 5, 2010)

Francis, for his part, says naught, instead he reaches down near one of the dying fires and grabs a couple pieces of fresh charcoal. He watches the two men argue about nonsense, before leisurely tossing a fist-sized piece of black at each of the men.

Just for fun. If needed, he has a +4 for ranged attacks.


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## Deuce Traveler (Aug 5, 2010)

There's something about Krindorf's demeanor as he puffs himself up and incites Odin's name that almost causes Borric to flee, although the man barely holds his ground.

Roll Lookup


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 6, 2010)

*"I see ye are shakin' little bunny. Perhaps ye want to think before openin' dat big mouth o' yers."* Krindorf laughs. If Borric attempts anything, he'll be ready for a round of punches.

OOC: Borric is still shaken, even if he saves.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 6, 2010)

OOC: I cry foul!  No Initiative was rolled.  If Borric has a higher number he would be able to act before the spell is officially cast and get an AoO as well.

Edit:  Here's an Initiative Roll: 1d20+4=19
And an attack if Krindorf starts casting and he won initiative.  Otherwise adjust for being shaken afterward.
Sap (1d20+5=20, 1d6+2=4 Sub-Dual)


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 6, 2010)

OOC: Sorry for the rush, I was used to say what I want to do in this game rather than roll myself. You wont have AoO since Krindorf is casting defensively I think, that's what the concentration roll is for. I already rolled a high enough concentration to cast the spell even if you did had the AoO. Initiative: 15. Your damage should be 1d4, unless you make up a weapon from nowhere.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 6, 2010)

OOC: Yeah later I caught the concentration check.  Sap damage is 1d6 and I think you still add strength to it. Bit rushed myself today, so I didn't post in usual IC format.  I figured that we might as well roll ourselves and save DT the trouble with his limited availability since we shouldn't need a referee for a 1v1 fight. 

So is this right?
Borric hits Krindorf with sap, (4 damage sub-dual?)
Krindorf casts Fear, Borric is shaken on next round of actions.
Borric's turn again?


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 6, 2010)

OOC: My question was, where does he get the sap from? He was singing and holding his instrument moments before. Anyway, yes, it's Borric turn.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 6, 2010)

OOC: Good question.  I was assuming it's at his belt where it normally is.  If it wasn't he intended to have when he poked Krindorf in the chest, so he would have grabbed it on the way.  Silly to start a fight and leave his weapon behind.  Probably should have posted that he left the mandolin on the ground too for that matter.   Up to you if you think he shouldn't have it available.

I was thinking Move Action to draw it, Standard Action to use it.

After all this is a civilized brawl.


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## HolyMan (Aug 6, 2010)

[sblock=OOC] Hmmm just thought of a way to break this up and get to use my new 2d6 Shocking Grasp  [/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Aug 6, 2010)

_<<VV; Here's my official IC post for those dice rolls, I can edit if you don't agree and change the sap to fist. 1d6 can be translated into 1d3 for a result of 1+2 Str=3.  But if we are near our gear then a move action picks it up off the ground anyway. I was assuming that we are standing adjacent to our bedrolls. Then I can proceed to the next round.>>_

Borric reacts first seeing that Krindorf has really taken offense to his teasing.  He draws his sap from his belt and tries to stop the viking before he can complete whatever prayer or curse he is trying to call upon from his pagan god while saying, "Oy!? There no call for that now!" and he hauls off and gives the viking a good blow with his sap.

[sblock=Actions]*Free Actions:* Speech and drop mandolin if necessary
*Move Action:* Draw sap
*Standard Action:* Melee Attack Sap (1d20+5=20, 1d6+2=4 Sub-Dual)
 Dodge +1 AC against Krindorf 
 AC18 &  HP11[/sblock]____________________________






 Borric Hawkins


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 6, 2010)

OOC: Agree with your posted actions. Waiting your next actions.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 6, 2010)

_<<OOC: Wondering what Krindorf is wearing.  I assume he doesn't sleep in that chainmail to avoid fatigue and he might not holding his shield either, but that's your call VV.>>_

Borric, despite being shaken, tries to hit Krindorf again on the backhand blow with the sap.  Since someone else was throwing things he shift around Krindorf to put the viking between himself and the thrower. He taunts, "Alright pudgy, let's see what you got?"

[sblock=Actions]*Move Action:* none
*Standard Action:* Melee Attack1d20+3=12,  1d6+2=4 Could hit if Krindorf is unarmored and without his shield.
*Free Actions:* Speech Dodge +1 AC against Krindorf 
 AC18 &  HP11[/sblock]____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 6, 2010)

"Violent animal! Ye incite me and now ye shamlessly attack a priest o' Odin?!" The norse man says, and then lifts his arms. *"Odin will see ye repent for your faults"* With that pray, the viking glows with divine energy.


_OOC: If its my call then Krindorf is clad in his armor, having donned it after waking up. He casts Bless, defensively: Concentration: 25 to avoid provoking._


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## perrinmiller (Aug 6, 2010)

OOC: I am not sure about the Bless, you just cast it. You cannot prepare it again so soon, but with the dream sequence maybe bending rules, dunno.  I think we need a ruling from DT on that one.


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 6, 2010)

OOC: I thought that since all that was a dream, the actual spells weren't affected.


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## Dragonwriter (Aug 6, 2010)

Duncan shakes his head. Krindorf obviously could not take a joke, and now Borric was getting worked up about it.  “Settle down, both of you. It was a jest, not an insult.”


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## ethandrew (Aug 6, 2010)

Francis walks up alongside Duncan and offers him a handful of charcoal bits, "Here, I've just been tossing this at them, they don't seem to mind, but it makes it a touch more entertaining for me." The young man tosses in a couple more pieces.


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## HolyMan (Aug 8, 2010)

The Professor sits on a log nearby his suitcase opened up on the ground before him. He seems to either be ignoring the fight or oblivious to it as he mixes components into a beaker, and stirs them with a glass rod.

"Now I just need the right quill for this," he mumbles to himself.

[sblock=OOC] Probably oblivious but if the start wrestling along the ground and get to close The Professor may have to take steps to prevent his equipment from getting damaged. Right now making special ink for my new "spell" Arcane Mark. Check out his wizard mark below. [/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Aug 8, 2010)

_<<OOC: Decided that the Spell doesn't matter, so no need to really wait on DT for it.>>_

Borric, shaking off the last traces of the fear spell, takes another whack at the viking, and taunts, "Not going to actually fight, eh?  Fine by me."

[sblock=Actions]*Move Action:* none
*Standard Action:* Melee Attackhttp://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2639781/1d20+5=18, 1d6+2=8 Lucky shot, might end this.
*Free Actions:* Speech Dodge +1 AC against Krindorf 
 AC18 &  HP11[/sblock]____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## GandalfMithrandir (Aug 11, 2010)

"Stand down!" Sir Richard says, seeing the two fighting and joins in, trying to break the two up but eventually joining the fray.

[sblock=mechanics]
Move action to try to break up the fight, then unarmed attack at Borric: 1d20+3=11
1d3+3=5[/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Aug 12, 2010)

_<<OOC: By my count Krindorf took 12 points sub-dual damage and is out. Not worrying about initiative with Sir Richard since it is just taking turns either way and he threw the first punch. This just turned into a much more rewarding encounter XP wise, at EL2 that's 900XP with the 1.5 multiplier. much more if Sir Richard is 2nd level already.>>_

Borric watches the viking's eyes roll back in his head and chuckles, "That was a fortunate blow, I hope there is no hard feel- What the!?..." As Borric instinctively dodged the incoming fist he unconsciously whacked the knight in side of the head with his back swing against the viking.  

He turns on Sir Richard with a playful smile, "You want to play too, Sir Knight?" Seeing the knight is just using fists, Borric returns the sap to his belt and throws a punch back.  Borric, remembering the days of drunken sailor brawls, is really getting into the swing of things now.  Shuffling his feet and trying to  be an elusive target against the knight's punches.

[sblock=Actions]*AoO: *Attack of Opportunity (1d20+5=24, 1d6+2=7) Since Borric is armed.
*Move Action:* Stow Sap
*Standard Action:* Unarmed Melee Attack Counter-attack (1d20+5=11, 1d3+2=3) Again don't think the knight is sleeping in medium armor (wakes up fatigued if he does) nor carrying his shield into a brawl. With an AC of 11, he has taken 10 damage sub-dual.  If he is wading into a brawl armored as such, Borric won't put the sap away.
*Free Actions:* Speech Dodge +1 AC against Sir Richard
 AC18 &  HP11[/sblock]____________________________






 Borric Hawkins


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## GandalfMithrandir (Aug 12, 2010)

OOC: Sir Richard is looking for 400 xp to get to level 2, but is just trying to settle things down a bit, and he is not wearing armor.

Sir Richard comes after Borric again after taking the hit to the face, now angered at the combative man, he throws a punch and swings wide, missing the elusive opponent.

[sblock=mechanics]1d20+4=6 fail[/sblock]


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## Deuce Traveler (Aug 12, 2010)

OOC: Sorry that I have been busy.  Your spells have been restored, and the dream seems to have been just that and a faded memory.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 13, 2010)

_<<OOC: I swear, I am having great luck with Borric, but Invis Castle is making me pay in other games. LOL>>_

Borric bobs and weaves, dodging a clumsy punch from the knight.  Then he gets cocky and tries a move he saw some oriental guy do when he was back on the ship.  With a loud "HeeYAH!" Borric swings his leg up high trying to land a cool looking round-house kick.  Much to his surprise the blow actually worked, connecting with the knight's temple.

Unfortunately Borric doesn't see it as he never learned how to land after a fancy maneuver and he falls to the ground with a "Woosh" as the air is knocked out of him.  He also managed to land on a piece of that thrown charcoal, getting him right in the small of the back.

The swashbuckler groans and sits up, breathing heavily, no more fight left in him.

[sblock=Actions]*Standard Action:* Unarmed Melee Attack Kick (1d20+5=19, 1d3+2=5) Is that 15 damage and a knock-out?
*Move Action:* fall prone
*Free Actions:* Speech 
 AC18 &  HP11[/sblock]____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## GandalfMithrandir (Aug 13, 2010)

OOC: was the AoO at richard as he came in? in which case he is at 0 for subdual, otherwise he still has 5 left for that.

Richard staggers back, Borric's kick having stunned him for the time being.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 13, 2010)

<<OOC:  The AoO was for an unarmed attack against an armed opponent.  The IC write-up just made it more in line with the scene.  That's why I put the sap away afterward, other wise he would get an AoO every time, not too sporting.   If I am wrong, then it's Richard's turn and Borric is prone. 

Otherwise, we just wait for the XP awards. >>


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## GandalfMithrandir (Aug 13, 2010)

No hard feelings over the scuffle, lets wait for the xp now, (please 400, please 400) 

"Now calm down!" Richard shouts at Borric, now on the ground, he walks away, face red with anger, but chooses to walk away from the fight, rather than continue after his point has been made.


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## Deuce Traveler (Aug 13, 2010)

OOC: The combatants feel more experienced!  Borric gains 10 XP, while Krindorf and Sir Richard collect 5 XP each.  Everyone else gains 3 XP from learning by watching.


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## HolyMan (Aug 13, 2010)

[sblock=OOC] YES!! I will need those 3 XP to burn when I start creating "magical" items. Thanks DT,  [/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Aug 13, 2010)

OOC: 10XP!?  Now I wish Borric failed the fear saving throw and ran like a little girl for all that effort.  

Actually we will catch up soon.  The next encounter we will likely get 1.5 times the XP of everyone else due to still being 1st level.  It's all good.


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 13, 2010)

Krindorf settles his chin after the beating. Odin was not very helpful dring the fight. With his ego broken he takes his shield and his weapons and walks away, in silence. Perhaps alone in the cold forests he'd feel better.


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## ethandrew (Aug 13, 2010)

Francis walks over to Borric, Sir Richard, and the retreating back of Krindorf, clapping slowly, sarcastically, "Well done, gentlemen, great display. I'd've joined in, but I didn't want to muss up my clothes," he points at the mud, charcoal, and occasional spot of blood.


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## HolyMan (Aug 13, 2010)

"Ah-ha, have it!" The Professor exclaims not really knowing what has been going on around him.

He takes the new "ink" and starts to draw an abstract eye/spider motiff on the top of his suitcase. When finished he stands back to look at his work.

[sblock=OOC]  "Casts" Arcane Mark  [/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Aug 13, 2010)

Duncan shakes his head. "Waste of energy, there. My brothers and I would fight like that sometimes, but nothing came of it, 'cept us being out of breath at the end."

It would certainly be interested when the group returned to their scouting duties... Would Krindorf calm down about it, or hold a grudge? To himself, Duncan mutters, "Only time'll tell that one."

He looks at the Professor as the odd little man jumps with an exclamation. His eyebrow rises as he hesitantly says, "Um... Well done? What is it?"


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## perrinmiller (Aug 14, 2010)

Borric recovers his breath and approaches the viking, offering his hand and forearm to grasp.  With what he hopes is a disarming smile, he says, "Actually, I don't think you are pudgy nor short.  After that aggravating dream I was just itching to stretch my muscles some.  No hard feelings is there?"

Then he leans a little closer and mutters so only Krindorf can hear, "Next time I say we pick on the knight, he's a little too stuffy."
____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## HolyMan (Aug 14, 2010)

"Hmm... What is it?" the Professor asks a little bewildered. 

"What is what?" he asks Ducan in all seriousness. Looking again Duncan notices the mark on the case is gone.

[sblock=OOC] think absent-minded professor  [/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 14, 2010)

Krindorf looks at the man's face and frowns.* "I do not forget offences Borric, least fer a hand shake. Make a bigger offer if ye wish to win my blessin´ again."* Without saying anything else Krindorf continues outside.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 15, 2010)

Borric lets his hand fall to his side and watches the Viking sulk away.  He shrugs and returns to his bedroll by the fire.  He picks up his mandolin again and tunes it.  He will play a few more tunes to entertain, but hold off on the teasing lyrics and humor.  Apparently it is unappreciated and some people have had their feathers ruffled enough for one night.
____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## Deuce Traveler (Aug 17, 2010)

Unsurprisingly, the caravan master was not pleased by his scouts behavior.  *"I don't know what has gotten into the lot of you, but we were unable to wake some of you up for your turn at watch last night, then you cause this commotion.  I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say that this trip has been rough on all of us.  Baalbek is before us, so why don't you go inside and settle in at the Dry Canteen?  It is the only gathering place in this city that you will find an opportunity to drink alcohol and gamble, since the owner knows whose palm to grease.  If you go there you'll be able to at least blow off some steam before we continue onwards.  I will pick you up tomorrow morning, so please stay out of trouble until then."*  He gives each party member 5 gold pieces and 20 silver pieces to use and as payment for their recent work.

The scouts enter Baalbek, which is a small city with some Greek, Roman, and Islamic influence.  Several ancient buildings are still occupied from times of antiquity, though the skyline is pierced by more recent towers and domes.  You find the gathering place that was mentioned by a wooden sign depicting an upturned and open canteen.

The Dry Canteen is a stone structure with rain-soaked gray blocks and a hay-strewn floor.  The place is quiet and unseemly, with two bleary-eyed and wrinkled old men playing a game of chess in the lonely center of the room.  An equally gray and wrinkled man is sitting behind a long table with various canteens and pots for sale behind him.  You contemplate leaving, believing there to have been some kind of mistake.

But that's when you notice the sound of laughter and music beneath your feet.  There seems to be a cellar to this building and some Western-style livelihood out of sight of the local authorities.


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## GandalfMithrandir (Aug 17, 2010)

"Well well well, never judge a book by its cover!" Richard says with a slight smile as he hears the noise from below.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 17, 2010)

Borric's eyes sparkle at the prospect of good ale and rousing entertainment.  With his mandolin in hand he looks around for the entrance to this underground entertainment spot. He remarks, "If we cannot find the stairs down, perhaps we may need to ask this merchant here."

He tries is luck in Arabic, asking politely, _"Excuse me gentle sir, could you tell me where the entrance to the underground might be?"_
_
<<OOC Search +3; Spot +2; Listen +2>>_
____________________________






 Borric Hawkins


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## HolyMan (Aug 17, 2010)

The Professor had joined the group on this trip only because he was a part of them, not because he wished merryment or ale. He follows silently along his mind lot in thoughts on the nightmare he believes they all shared.

He follows where ever the others lead.


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 18, 2010)

_OOC: I had a car accident, I'll post tomorrow probably._


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## Deuce Traveler (Aug 18, 2010)

The man behind the table smiles and speaks happily to Borric.

Borric
[sblock]
"It's good to hear a foreigner speak my native tongue, though your accent be heavy.  And as you have shown me respect, I will show respect to you and your band and wave the normal fee to enter the cellar.  I must warn you though... I expect your good behavior to continue and that you remember to keep quiet about this place once you leave."
[/sblock]

The man stops speaking happily and looks Borric hard in the eye for a minute until Borric gives him a nod of understanding.  Then he walks over to the back of the room, removes a rug, and reveals a wooden hatch that he lifts.  Underneath are some stairs which you go down.

The staircase goes down 15 feet and reveals a large, lantern-filled room with a high ceiling.  From the empty racks along the wall and hollowed out barrels, you would guess that this used to be a Roman wine cellar long ago.  Now it houses a bar and several Western patrons and travellers.

There is a stout, blond-haired Norseman scowling at several companions around a gambling table.  His companions are a pudgy man with a tad of red hair and a slim man with short black hair and gentle features.  

Two other men with Byzantine dress and features argue quietly in their own language while sharing a pitcher of ale.  From the tone you guess they are talking badly about either politics or trade.  Most likely both.

A woman with Mediterranean features works behind the bar and smiles as you enter.  She seems a bit tired as if she has been serving the patrons for quite awhile, but she glows with the energy of youth.


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## Deuce Traveler (Aug 18, 2010)

OOC: 

HolyMan, I like the Wizard Mark.

Voda Vosa, I hope you're ok.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 18, 2010)

Borric thanks the man in Arabic, _"Many thanks good sir."_ He turns and smiles to the others in English, "Let's go."

Borric heads up to the woman at the bar smiling in return and says in Italian, _"Why hello miss, nice place you have tucked away here.  A round of good drink for me and my friends."_  If she doesn't understand Italian, then he will try French, English, and finally Arabic.  He fishes out some silver pieces to cover the cost.

____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## ethandrew (Aug 18, 2010)

Francis listens in on the conversations between Borric and the proprietor and then the barmaid, he doesn't let on that he understands all the languages that the bard is speaking as he fully doesn't trust this man yet. He randomly appeared in the dream world and as far as Francis is concerned, he could be an agent of Varrath sent to taint this world, and his inciting a fight as soon as the nightmare was over did little to dispel this notion. All the same, he took the free drink and smiled, all his concerns hidden away behind his crooked smile.


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## HolyMan (Aug 18, 2010)

The Professor finds a empty table near the back wall and sits waiting for the others to join. He puts his suitcase under the table and noone (not even the Professor) notices the wizard mark appear again and the "eye" look around before once again fading away.

[sblock=DM] Taking liberties but I thought you might like a little way to keep an "eye" on The Professor. [/sblock]


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## GandalfMithrandir (Aug 18, 2010)

Sir Richard looks over to the lonely looking professor and walks over.

"Hello professor" he says, offering some of his drink before shrugging and taking it back. "Never would have guessed this place would be under here, would you?" He asks, trying to make friendly conversation.


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 18, 2010)

Krindorf strides forward, seeing his compatriots gathered around a table. *"Well met brothers, It has been a long time since I saw people of my kin around. You lot are a pleasent sight!"* he says in his native tongue.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 20, 2010)

Borric stays next to Francis observing the crowd in the underground tavern, mistaking the man's smile for being friendly he remarks, "Looks like a fun place. The stuffy knight is conversing with the Professor and the viking is off to meet with his countrymen.  That leaves you and me. What do you prefer for entertainment?"

____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## ethandrew (Aug 20, 2010)

Francis looks back at the man with his eyebrows cocked in mock surprise, "You mean other than wenches and violence? Well, there's not much left after that, is there?" He takes an overlarge drink of his beverage, filling his cheeks like a squirrel, before he swallows it with a playful grin.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 21, 2010)

Borric, with an arched eyebrow, replies, "Eh? Well, there's good food, games of chance, bawdy songs... And most importantly, we must not forget good drink!"  To emphasize his point, he takes a hearty swallow from his mug.

____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## Dragonwriter (Aug 21, 2010)

Duncan accompanies the others into the underground bar. He's a little surprised to see it, well, underground. "Odd place for a tavern," he mumbles, not noticing the strange fact of Borric and Francis forgetting the person still standing right next to them. He takes the drink Borric offered and takes a sip, going to sit near the Professor. But not quite _with_ the odd little man...

As he drinks, he makes a little grimace. "Doesn't hold a candle to my granddad's booze," he says quietly, chuckling.


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## HolyMan (Aug 21, 2010)

Lost in thought the Professor starts as he hears Duncan speak. "Hmm.. what? Oh," he says taking his mug for the first time and taking a drink.

"Egads! But that is bad! I have tasted better piss water mixtures for experiments." the Professor says putting the mug down and pushing it away from him.

"Can we get anything else to drink in here?" he asks.

[sblock=OOC] Thanks DW I don't think I like playing the "lost in thought" types as I have to wait for them to be kicked in the butt before I can post. LOL I was going to respond to perrinmiller's post and say something about "Remember what happen the last time you played a bawdy tune." but didn't seem like they were close enough, to "wake him up " LOL [/sblock]


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## ethandrew (Aug 27, 2010)

Francis looks at the tall man for a second, then decides to finish the rest of his drink without putting it down, ordering another. "If that's our plan, then I should get drunk immediately," Francis says, and quaffs his second drink as soon as it's handed to him.


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## perrinmiller (Aug 28, 2010)

Borric smiles and drains his mug too, "Here now, let's order some wine and do this right.  So tell me a little bit about yourself while we are drinking and being friendly.  I spent most of my time before the dreaming thing in another part of the caravan so I cannot rightly say I know ye." He orders a bottle for him and Francis.  While waiting he begins strumming a few chords on his mandolin and humming a little tune.  From the sound of it, he is getting warmed up for another one of his limericks.

____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## Deuce Traveler (Aug 30, 2010)

The lady smiled sweetly at Borric and answered in a heavily-accented English, "Your Arabic is good, but my English is not so bad either.  Please have a seat and I'll bring you our Harvest Special.  My name is Ophilia."  She said the last with a wink and a bright smile, before going about to fill the order.

Krindorf takes the table of fellow Norsemen by surprise, until he begins to chat in their own language.  They look wary at first, not knowing if he comes from a rival tribe, but after a moment the realization settles in that clan-allegiance means little so far from home.  "Welcome then, brother.  Would you like to sit and join our wager?  May I ask what is your name?"

As the drinks finally arrive, Alwyn Bancroft enters the bar.  It looks as if he left the caravan to follow his companions here.


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## Voda Vosa (Aug 30, 2010)

*"Aye comrade, I'm Krindorf the Red, spiritual guide o' my people. I travel in a caravan, and we were stpping by this town." *Krindorf takes a seat. "*Tell me, have you any news about the north? I've been out for so long..."*


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## ethandrew (Aug 30, 2010)

"I think she likes you," Francis says casually to Borric in fluent French. Before giving the bard time to respond, he switches to Latin and continues, "My life is a boring story, but I work for The Church, following the Pardoner around." Another long drink, this one seems to be to memories long ago as Francis' eyes grow dull. Then a switch to Arabic, of which Borric can tell he's not quite as fluent, "You know the Pardoner looks like a weasel and a snake? It's my job to make sure nobody murders him and no one finds out about all of his sinful wrongdoings, or, in some cases, do those wrongdoings myself."

Back again to English, "Tis a boring story, like I said."


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## perrinmiller (Aug 31, 2010)

Borric smiles and thanks Ophilia in English, "Sure thing luv. Thankee" 

Still strumming and tuning, remarks to Francis sticking to English, "Tis boring maybe to you, but you sparked my curiosity.  Not sure what you said in Latin, but what's that about the Pardoner?  Who's he? Is he either the Viking or the Knight?"

_<<OOC: I will be out of town from  Thursday-Sunday, I might not have time to post tomorrow before I leave.  And Internet access might not be possible while I am gone.>>_

____________________________






 Borric Hawkins


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## ethandrew (Aug 31, 2010)

"Nevermind the Latin, that language is dead to me anyway," Francis says casually with another drink. "The pardoner, hmm, he's usually the official catholic looking man, line of wear on his face, usually found in his drink chasing after some woman, or if he's really drunk..." he leaves the last bit unsaid and laughs a bit. "Needless to say, he's less than ideal to be a representative of God, and it's my job to make sure no one realizes that. Bad Sissy of Assisi," the young man says and mock slaps his own wrist.


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## perrinmiller (Sep 1, 2010)

Borric is still strumming some soft tunes that promise to rousing drinking songs if someone knew the words.  He remarks to Francis, "Okay, a catholic looking man who likes to drink.  Is that him?" nodding his head towards Alwyn.  "Or is he Duncan?"

_<<OOC: Just one quick post before I leave town.>>_

____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## Theroc (Sep 4, 2010)

Alwyn wasn't entirely sure what had happened.  The last thing he remembered with the others was discussing the strange acts of the cow.  He then found himself with the Caravan.  Perhaps the Gods were acting through him and he could not recall the memories that he did not create himself.  Whatever the reason, when he came to he heard the others were at the bar, and the lad entered.

As he approached the others, he smiled and nodded to those he remembered, taking a seat at a table just apart from them, as he recalled the things he knew of them and pondered if they'd invite him over to join them.

[OOC: I cannot remember who was playing when Alwyn was about and who wasn't... anyone wanna remind me here or in the OOC?  lol]


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## perrinmiller (Sep 6, 2010)

Borric not bothering to wait for a reply from Francis motions for Alwyn to join them, "Grab a seat and a drink with Francis and me.  I am Borric, the swashbuckling amateur string plucker.  I recently joined the scouts of the caravan while you were occupied with something else.  So, though I have seen you around, we haven't actually met.  Francis here, was just telling me about the Pardoner and I was asking who exactly that was, being the ignoramus that I am." 

_<<OOC: Theroc, my Borric and Voda's Krindorf are the only new characters, but Richard is being run by a different player now.  I think everything else is pretty much the same.>>_

____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## Deuce Traveler (Sep 6, 2010)

One of the Norse says in English to Krindorf, "The goings-on in our homeland are the same as always.  A steady flow of blood to melt the ice as cousins fight cousins for slights none can remember.  If you care to hear more, pull up a chair and join us in a game of cards."  The Scouts get the impression that the Norse switched languages in order to make the invitation to any of those who had just arrived.

Ophilia comes up to Borric and Francis and says simply, "Deux cuivre, s'il vous plait."  Two coppers, please.  It looks like Ophilia is collecting money from those that purchased drinks.  And that she is fluent in French.


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## perrinmiller (Sep 6, 2010)

Borric replies to the lovely Ophilia, "D'accord, jolie dame. Rejoignez-nous s'il vous plaît pour une boisson et ornez-nous avec votre compagnie."

_<<OOC: My French is very rusty so I took a shot with an on-line translator. But when it is time Diplomacy +6 check to improve her attitude even more.>>_

____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## Deuce Traveler (Sep 14, 2010)

Borric does a fair job of mending his past offense with Ophilia as she seems to enjoy both the attention and the chance to handle her language skills (she was offended by Francis' implications in French).  She is distracted long enough by Borric that she completely misses the fact that Alwyn is called over by name by his friends, and they have to get her attention so that he can be given a drink.

It seems that the Norse had been on raids along the Mediterranean Sea and came here to sell their gains, though they are silent on which territory had been raided.  The atmosphere becomes looser as the companions settle in with the regulars.  The mood is festive indeed, probably because of the stress of travelling through strange and foreign lands.

Even Alwyn seems to enjoy himself more than usual.  He is on his third mug of ale only a little after an hour... no, now he's on his fourth and slushing around his drink as he stumbles towards the gamblers.

Alwyn
[sblock]
When your companions called out your name you felt a presence flow across the room and possess you.  The spirit is called El-ran, and he was a short and scrawny never-do-well from the area who was sometimes small-time merchant, sometimes sailor, and sometimes petty thief.  Oh, and he was also a sometimes unsuccessful gambler.  You have some control of El-ran, but his will is strong and he insists on drinking, gambling, and flirting with the barmaid Ophilia.  It seems that El-ran doesn't realize that he is dead, and possessed you body once his spirit heard your name, which was close to his own.
[/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Sep 14, 2010)

While working a little tune to amuse and flatter Ophilia and occasionally having a little more to drink, Borric watches their drunken companion stumble his way into what will most likely result in a physical altercation.  Whether that altercation is a collision with a table, a floor, or a gambler's fist is of no concern.  

He puts away his mandolin figuring that such a display of behavior is most likely going to solicit a request to leave the underground establishment.  He remarks to Francis, "I think our companion is going to need some pardoning very soon."

____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## Voda Vosa (Sep 14, 2010)

Krindorf enjoys the time around his kind, laughing and drinking.


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## ethandrew (Sep 14, 2010)

"Perhaps," Francis said, watching Alwyn casually. From his dealings with the man, this seemed out of character, but then again he knew him as much as he knew his parents, which was naught. "But I'm not one to curtail the revelry of others."


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## Theroc (Sep 14, 2010)

His liquor hadn't quite fully caught up with him, but Alwyn's possession definitely made it harder to have full control of his faculties.  Spotting Ophilia, he waves her over for a minute before continuing towards the gamblers.

"What a lovely surprise to see such a beauty in a tavern..."  The young man complimented, giving the girl a winning smile before allowing Ophilia to return to her duties... if she wanted to.  If she stayed to chat, Alwyn would keep his attentions to the youthful woman.

[OOC: Diplomacy check?  1d20+7=11 Apparently being drunk isn't good for Alwyn's flirting]


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## perrinmiller (Sep 16, 2010)

Borric replies to Francis, "Nothing against his revelry, I just assume we are going to be required to clean up after him.  I will carry his feet, you can carry the upper half should the need arise."

The swashbuckler doesn't make any moves to stop Alwyn unless it looks like he is going to drunkenly walk into a sword point or some other blatant hazard that will do him serious harm.
____________________________





 Borric Hawkins


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## ethandrew (Sep 19, 2010)

Francis looks at Borric and smiles slyly, "I think we're at crossroads right now, where we either get drunk enough to join him, or hold our drink to prevent the worst. What do you say?"


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## perrinmiller (Sep 19, 2010)

Borric says good-naturedly, "You go ahead and get snockered if you desire, mate.  I will continue to sip sparingly.  Don't want the lass, Ophilia, to be thinking I be a lush.  Should we manage to stay out of trouble, I'll not be wanting to slur my words trying to sing her a ballad.

"But I do believe the Viking is well on his way too, so you are not alone."

____________________________




Borric Hawkins


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## Dragonwriter (Sep 19, 2010)

Duncan's eyebrow rises a bit as he sees Alwyn stumbling about. He leans over to the Professor, quietly saying, "He may be getting us into a spot of trouble. Don't have too much more to drink. Not least because it tastes bad."


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## ethandrew (Sep 19, 2010)

"Hey, Professor, Duncan!" Francis calls from the table he and Borric currently share, over at the men being antisocial in a place where that proved to be truly difficult. "Come join us."


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## HolyMan (Sep 20, 2010)

"Hmm.. what.. oh," The Professor says looking into his mug. "I suppose you are right but, weren't we coming here to get are minds off that awful nightmare. I tell you..." he pauses as Francis calls them over.

"Perhaps a little comrodery can do what this poor piss water can not." he says smiling then standing to go join the others. "Coming?"


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## Dragonwriter (Sep 20, 2010)

Duncan shrugs and stands, a smile coming to his face. "Might as well. You two just seemed far more interested in your own company than mine or the Professor's."

He stands up and goes to take a seat with Francis and Borric.


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## ethandrew (Sep 20, 2010)

"Gentlemen, welcome, share drink with us." Francis says as he raises his glass. "We were just discussing the possibility of intervening in our companion's escapades, while just getting to know each other a little bit. Since I've spent a few days and an horrific nightmare with the lot of you, I figured we should get to know each other."


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## perrinmiller (Sep 21, 2010)

Borric looks up at the others joining him and Francis at their table with a smile, "We are debating the finer points of drunken revelry versus being responsible.  Care to weigh in on the subject while we observe Alwyn's actions as a guide."

____________________________





Borric Hawkins


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## Dragonwriter (Sep 21, 2010)

Duncan shrugs, his first glass still half full. "If you really want to get roaring drunk, go ahead. I'll be the responsible one and haul the lot of you back out, if it comes to that.

As for knowing about me, not much to tell really. Back home in Scotland, lived with family. Then I felt the Lord call me to the roads. Took my horse Gaoth and started traveling. This pilgrimage is going to take me the closest to home I've been in... several years. Can't even remember when I left. Funny how the mind works, isn't it?"


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## Deuce Traveler (Sep 23, 2010)

Alwyn tries to flirt with Ophilia, but needless to say it doesn't go well for the tipsy adventurer.  "I do appreciate the compliment, sir, but what I do not appreciate is your oggling.  Now I'll continue to fetch you drinks, but I expect that you'll keep your hands and eyes to yourself."

Ophilia steps away from Alwyn and he gives a long sigh before whistling a strange, but merry tune and doing a jig that makes him skip across the room and to the gambling table.  Alwyn asks if he can join, and before anyone can say either a yes or a no, he pulls up a chair and plops down, tossing in a coin to the pot.  The Norse raise an eyebrow, but then shrug and begin to roll some dice to start the new round of gambling.

Ophilia stopped to watch Alwyn once he started whistling and skipping, a sad expression on her face breaking her previously festive mood.

Alwyn
[sblock]
The Norse seemed to have been playing for small odds, a couple of gold coins each.  Some kind of new memory tells you that they like to play for small stakes so that they can gauge their opponent before betting larger.  You figure why give them the chance.  It would be better to bet high right off in order to throw them into confusion.  And you haven't even asked the particular rules yet, but dice is dice and it shouldn't take too many rounds to figure it out.
[/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Sep 24, 2010)

Borric replies to Duncan while keeping one eye on Alwyn, "Thank you for the offer, but I too am of mind to be a little responsible.  Too much drink affects my playing.  I only put my mandolin away since our companion looked to be about to get himself thrown out."

"Never been up near Scotland before, spent most of my time around the waters of the Mediterranean."
____________________________




Borric Hawkins


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## ethandrew (Sep 25, 2010)

"I think we'll be able to relax now," Francis states, watching Alwyn join the vikings. "I doubt they'll be allowing him to get away with too much."


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## perrinmiller (Sep 28, 2010)

Borric acknowledges Francis's observation, "Hmmm, okay then."

The amateur bard, takes another drink and pulls out his mandolin and begins retuning it and practicing a few chords, "How about a rowdy drinking song then, eh?"
_
_[sblock=OOC]I am sorry, but none of the updates are really giving me much to work with and I am starting to get bored with this whole scene.  Doesn't look like anyone really wants to do any player interaction either. DT, if you are waiting on something from someone specific, please bump them in the OOC thread.[/sblock]
____________________________




Borric Hawkins


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## Theroc (Sep 28, 2010)

Alwyn grins at the small wager, tossing 15 gold coins into the pot as he prepares to learn how this particular game worked, smiling at the norsemen.  Luckily for him, he'd know what they were saying, and they wouldn't be any the wiser unless he outright told him.  Granted, he wasn't overly fond of the compulsion to gamble, but he may as well enjoy it as fighting with a spirit in possession of your body generally tends to hurt you more than help you...

[OOC: Not sure what exactly you wanted me to do here, since I've no idea what sort of gambling game we're playing, I just had Alwyn throw a wager in.  I actually don't mind this scene, but maybe that's because you're playing on Alwyn's background here and I liked it.  ]


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## Deuce Traveler (Oct 6, 2010)

OOC: I'm truly sorry for the delay.  This campaign has kicked my butt the last couple of weeks and I'm running on 4 hours of sleep a night.  I'll try to do shorter posts in order to keep the action moving.

Alwyn tosses the dice and quite a few eyebrows raise at the wager.  The taller of the Norse shrugs and matches him before dramatically making a swipe for the dice and rolling his own set.

Alwyn
[sblock]
Somehow you know this man, as if you've played against him before.  You can't help but stare at his sleeves and something tells you he is cheating.
[/sblock]

The man easily beats Alwyn's roll and moves to return the dice and take his winnings, but Alwyn keeps staring at the man's loose right sleeve.  The intent stare causes the players around the table to all do the same, until one of the more suspicious Norse grabs his tall companions arm and puts it up the sleeve.  "He's got dice up there!  He's cheating!"

Alwyn smiles in satisfaction, but his smirk is quickly broken up.  A fist flies in a chaotic moment of anger and catches the adventurer across his temple, making him spin and fall to the ground (-1 hp to Alwyn).

Alwyn
[sblock]
You have control of your body again, but you can feel it is going to be very temporary as the possessing spirit is recovering from the confusion and blow.
[/sblock]


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## HolyMan (Oct 6, 2010)

"Hmm... well that was inevitable," The Professor states looking at his companions as they to stare at the brawl. "Isn't this why we are here after all?" he asks with a big smile.


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## Theroc (Oct 6, 2010)

(I'm assuming Alwyn's had the opportunity to pray to Savnok of late, since... well... I've never really had an opportunity to pray since I started, so still bound to Savnok.  If not, let me know and I'll change it about.)

Alwyn was not fond of his compulsion, but was enjoying the game nonetheless until he felt that sneaking suspicion that he knew the man was a cheat.  He didn't voice his suspicion, not wanting to offend, but his eye had drawn more suspicious eyes than his own to the dishonest conduct, grinning, suddenly Alwyn felt himself sprawled on the floor... not a pleasant experience... but he was in control of his faculties once more... and luckily he was not quite so drunk as he'd thought...

_"To arms!"_ The boy cries out in Norse as he called upon Savnok the Betrayer to protect him, his body moving to stand instinctively, his hand moving for his spear.

[sblock=Actions]
Full-Round action: Summon Savnok's full plate armor.  It will provide DR 1/piercing and add 8 to his AC.

If Alwyn has not bound Savnok;
Move: Stand and draw spear
Standard: Ready action to attack if the man attacks Alwyn again.[/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Oct 6, 2010)

Borric seeing the rowdy Norsemen are getting out of hand, puts away his mandolin as someone claims there is a cheater. He immediately thinks of Krindorf, but is pleasantly surprised that it was neither him nor Alwyn that was the guilty party.

Seeing their drunk companion knocked flat and then reaching for his spear he remarks, "Oh boy, this will get bloody if he starts poking holes in vikings."

He moves in that direction drawing an appropriate weapon, calling to the others around the table with him, "Get ready this could be ugly."

_<<Draw sap if the Norsemen are staying unarmed, otherwise rapier.
Initiative (1d20+4=7)>>_


____________________________




Borric Hawkins


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## Dragonwriter (Oct 6, 2010)

Duncan sighs. "Of course... It just had to happen."

The young Scot stands up and tries to shout over the combatants, "Calm down. No need for a fight."


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## Voda Vosa (Oct 6, 2010)

*"Fer Odin's sake, stop dis nonsense!" *shouts Krindorf, *"Drop yer weapons, if you got to punch yer faces until ye flat yer noss so be it, but no killin' 'ere!"*

Diplomacy: 20


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## GandalfMithrandir (Oct 6, 2010)

Sir Richard looks up from his drink to see the fight, then looks back down and shakes his head, laughing a little as he does so.


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## Deuce Traveler (Nov 6, 2010)

OOC: Sorry that I was away for a month.  That last month of the campaign killed.

IC: Theroc crashed into the group of vikings, the butt of his spear cracking one across the ribs while his body tumbled into the other two.  Somehow the return punches of the vikings seemed to glance off of his body and do little damage while his seemingly hardened fists bloodied the larger of the vikings in the next few seconds.

The tavern's bartender screamed as the vikings gave up on pummeling Theroc, deciding instead to grapple with him and hold him down across the surface of one of the other tables.  One of the Norse pulled a knife in anger, but had second thoughts as he saw Krindorf's warning stare.

*"Alright, we'll toss you your comrade back, but first we want a promise that you'll get on out of here.  You're no longer welcome."*

Theroc
[sblock]
You can feel the entity taking over once more.  And he wants wine, song, drink, gambling, and a woman to impress.
[/sblock]


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## perrinmiller (Nov 8, 2010)

Borric is not interested in diplomacy nor leaving this fine establishment, "Save your threats dullards and mind your manners. "

He continues to close on the vikings with his sap in hand, "Come on they started it."

_<<Draw sap. This roll was from before Initiative (1d20+4=7)>>_

____________________________




Borric Hawkins


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 8, 2010)

*"Oi! Stop it both o' ya, I'm sick o' dis! If it weren't fer me they'll have him gutted, so yer  not helpin'!"* shouts the cleric, staring at Borric and at his countrymen alternatively.


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## Deuce Traveler (Nov 14, 2010)

The fight begins once again, but it is Alwyn who is hit first.  It was not even a hard punch... more like a tap to the chest in preparation for a harder, follow-on strike.  Yet it causes Alwyn to belch up black, fetid goo that smells of fire and decay.  The crowd gasps in horror, different people each making gestures to ward off evil.  The waitress whispers out loud, 'Possession!'


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 23, 2010)

Krindorf is really surprised. He closes quickly, trying to assess what is that happened to Alwyn. He shoots a deadly stare to the waitress, before she said any other stupid thing.


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## Deuce Traveler (Nov 29, 2010)

As Krindorf steps closer the vomit on the floor bubbles, then writhes, then becomes a mass of tendrils that rises upwards and takes the appearance of a featureless man armed with a knife.  The stench from the figure reeks and causes all but Krindorf and Alwyn from becoming sick (-1 to attack rolls for next six rounds).

The patrons and bartender flee shrieking while the scouts stand their ground and consider their options.  The figure's knife seems to grow longer while the creature dances a jig around a recovering Alwyn, that enables it to position itself in a defensible corner of the room.

Alwyn
[sblock]
You are now once again in charge of your facilities.
[/sblock]


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## Dragonwriter (Nov 29, 2010)

Duncan recoils from the slime-thing. As it grows, the paladin watches in revulsion. He breaks the hypnosis with a quick shake of his head and draws his club. "C'mon, you ugly damn thing! Alwyn, get yourself back and protected, and you've got some talking to do later..."

[sblock=OOC]
Move to draw club (don't remember if I had it out or not) and get near Krindorf, Alwyn and Borric. Standard for Total Defense.
[/sblock]


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## Voda Vosa (Nov 29, 2010)

*"Friends, brethrens! Stand your ground and send this abomination back to Hella in the Underworld!"* Krindorf bolsters his allies with an encouraging proclaim.

_Using Bless over Krindorf and the rest_


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## GandalfMithrandir (Nov 29, 2010)

"What is that thing?" Sir Richard says as he stands up, watching to see what it does, loosening his sword in it's sheath.


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 8, 2010)

The gooey creature raises his arms and chuckles, launching two balls of vomit-like goo; one from each arm.  Duncan somehow deflects the shot aimed at him with his club, but the other ball of goo smacks right into Alwyn's chest.  Alwyn looks as if he is going to wretch as the goo's smelly mix of alcohol and vomit hits his nostrils.

OOC: DC 14 from Alwyn to avoid nausea.  Also a DC 14 History (Lore) or Religion check to recognize the creature from tales.


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 16, 2010)

Krindorf charges the apparition, leading by the example. He delivers a mighty blow with his morning star.

24 for 6 dmg


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## Deuce Traveler (Dec 23, 2010)

Alwyn is incapacitated, but he does manage to cough out "Fire... use fire..."

The party charges forward, weapons drawn.  The gooey-creature fires another blast, this one catching Theroc full on the chest and pinning him to the far wall.

Krindorf nails the strange being with his morning star, tearing off a section of the thing's left side.  It looks barely fazed as the torn piece reforms and the creature is made whole again, though some of the goo is permanently torn away and flakes off the morning star in a lifeless manner.

Sir Richard stabs the thing, though his pointed blade seems to do less damage then Krindorf's strike.  He too comes away with flaking goo falling off his weapon.

Borric attempts to strike with his rapier misses, and he is unable to close with his sap.  Duncan also is unable to land a blow, but more because of a lack of room to strike as his companions have surrounded the cornered creature and leave no other room for melee combatants.


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## Voda Vosa (Dec 27, 2010)

Krindorf takes a step back, and looks for a torch. "A Torch, quickly, set it alight!" he bellows.


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## Deuce Traveler (Jan 7, 2011)

OOC: Please check the Talking the Talk thread.


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