# Everything D&D Ever - Chapter 1: Temple of the Frog



## KirayaTiDrekan (Sep 23, 2014)

*The City of Blackmoor - 934 AtS (After the Shattering*)

Alara Dortotter had woken to what others would consider a nightmare.  The face of Eltab, Demon Lord of Retribution, had appeared to her.  Canine-like, but with antlers and demonic horns, with slitted yellow eyes that bore into her soul.  Alara knew this demon well.  In a moment of anguish she had called out to him, seeking the power to bring bloody vengeance to the bandits who had killed her family.  Eltab had answered, striking a bargain with the young woman.  Theirs was a most unusual arrangement...Alara did not know what agenda Eltab had in mind for her.  She was no servant of evil, that much was certain.  But Eltab had granted her wish.  That was certain as well.  The dream from which she had awoken bid her to go to the Everflowing Spigot, a brewery and tavern in the upscale market district of Blackmoor City.  The large brewery building situated behind the tavern smelled strongly of ale and other spirits and the tavern itself present a bright, cheery and welcoming appearance.  The sign above the door displayed a happy drunk, mouth open underneath a spigot flowing with beer.  Inside, the atmosphere was one of revelry as a new brew was set to be introduced this very evening.

Lillily had just arrived in Blackmoor a day ago, aboard the Sea Raven, a merchant ship that regularly traveled the trade route between Blackmoor and the dwarven and Halfling coastal communities on the western continent.  The elves, of course, refused to trade, but that didn't concern the captain of the Sea Raven over much.  Speaking of the captain, a human named Alvaris, he had asked Lillily to sample the new brew being debuted at the Everflowing Spigot tonight and negotiate shipping rights to the halflings if the brew met with Lillily's approval.  The captain was placing a lot of trust in the little gnome this night.  

Bran Ravenwood found himself between jobs at the moment.  The capital city of the great land of Blackmoor had proven a bit...sparse when it came to employment for entertainers, at least one of his current social standing.  Luckily for him, before his gold had run out completely, the proprietor of the Everflowing Spigot had asked him to perform during tonight's debut of a new brew.  It was likely to be quite a night of celebration and inebriation.  Of course, there was the problematic rumor that Lord Armiger's family had invested in the Everflowing Spigot and might be present tonight.  But...Lord Armiger himself was still many miles away...wasn't he?  Of course he was.

Samara Renae awoke from what some would call a dream.  It was a vision to her.  A demonic face, canine-like with antlers and horns and slitted yellow eyes.  The demon, for it could not be anything else, was calling to someone, summoning a herald to do its vile work in the mortal world.  Of this she was certain.  The vision could only mean that she was meant to find this mortal herald.  The vision had ended with a tavern sign depicted a drunken man under a spigot flowing with beer.  After some asking around, she had learned that the sign was attached to a tavern called the Everflowing Spigot.  Tonight was a celebration of some sort dealing with the introduction of a new brew.  The servant of this demon was sure to be there.

Taranis' travels had brought him to the capital city of the land of Blackmoor.  The city was huge and quite overwhelming for the eternal spirit in mortal form, as he was used to the rural roads and farming villages far from this metropolis.  And yet, his wanderings had drawn him here, for what purpose he knew not.  His further wanderings through the city itself had now led him to the Everflowing Spigot where tonight was planned a celebration of a new brew. 

The Kestrel was used to the shadows, not this brightly lit and gaudily decorated place.  Soon it would be full of revelers and drunkards.  But, her informant had told her that someone with a lead to the Temple of the Frog would be here tonight.  He wouldn't provide any details, of course, just that this person would have information she might need and perhaps more.  

Ulric Stormborn's mentor, vague and mysterious as always, had told him to come to the Everflowing Spigot tonight.  Ulric's mentor had hinted that someone there would be lead him to secrets both forbidden and wondrous.  It was up to Ulric to decide to pursue those secrets.

_OOC: Please include a physical description of your character in your first post.

_


----------



## Kobold Stew (Sep 23, 2014)

At the Captain's instructions, Lillily had saluted with such a rigid sincerity that it was clear she was not taking this seriously. "Aye aye," she affirmed, "I promise to sample all their finest." 

And with that she turned and disembarked, pretending to wobble when she first hit the dock, as if finding her land legs. The armour that Lillily wears appear to be cobbled together from different pieces of leather -- belts, mostly, that clearly once belonged to different waistlines. One belt slung over the shoulder also has two shortswords attached to it, coupled and slung over her short back. If she is waiting she will undo one belt and attach it to another, shifting the makeshift armour that she has created for herself. The belts are worn at odd angles as if a child were trying to tie up younger sibling. The sibling, of course, is Lillily. 

Lillily is just over three feet tall. From a distance you would say her hair has been braided elaborately but without taste. On closer inspection she has simply been practicing her knots, and in off hours she ties and unties the plaits with her fingers, and does them up again. 

Lillily is full of energy, but it is an intense energy, and her shine not with joy and innocence, but betray suspicion. There are several small scars on her face, and she is missing a tooth in her smile -- if she was ever pretty, she is not any more -- and there's a larger one across her throat, that has not healed well.

When she leaves the dock, she heads towards the Everflowing Spiggot. When she gets there she heads to the bar, pulls up a stool, and uses it to climb onto the countertop itself. She sits there, turns around and sits, her feet on the stool, facing out so she can see people coming in over the course of the night.


----------



## Brother Dave (Sep 23, 2014)

_…is that?  No._  Bran Ravenwood breathed a sigh of relief.  _Bah!  Letting my imagination get the better of me.  I’m jumping at shadows now.   Still, caution has served me well so far._

A tallish, bowed, lean figure in a dark cloak, Bran stood surveying the crowded tavern from the discrete corner he’d selected earlier, a shapeless hat pulled low over his brow.  His features were somewhat slack, his eyes a bit glassy, as if he was a bit lost in his cups but determined to carry on.  A first glance would pass over him as insignificant, unassuming, little different from a hundred other slightly inebriated patrons.

A closer look – and few bothered with such an inspection – would reveal details that were misleading at best, designed to give a subtle impression of someone else, someone unimportant, not worth looking twice at – an older uncle, perhaps, or a widower trying to forget for a while.  Down on his luck but not destitute.  His skin was somewhat pale, dulled and lined with age courtesy of the makeup he had expertly applied less than an hour before.  His normally short black hair was dyed with streaks of grey, sporting clever extensions to make it appear longer.  A few streaks of grey had been added to his brows as well.  His fine-boned fingers toyed absently with the thin grey mustache and small goatee that completed the look.

Satisfied with his inspection, Bran eased away from the corner with a groan, staggering slightly, and made his way unsteadily out of the taproom to the small space he’d been given to prepare for his performance.  He allowed the slackness to leave his face as he straightened his back and stretched, working the kinks out, and sat down to remove his boot.  He shook out the pebble he had placed there earlier to make his limp appear more realistic, and pulled it back onto his foot.  He then made subtle changes to his wardrobe, adding a colorful vest in bright greens and blues, a wide belt, and flipping his double-sided cloak around to reveal the brightly colored yellow and blue liner.  Checking his appearance in the burnished pot someone had hung on the wall as a ‘mirror’, he quickly and deftly adjusted his makeup, reducing his apparent age from ‘older uncle’ to ‘distinguished gentleman’.

He retrieved his polished lute from under the bench and checked its tuning with a practiced ear.  The performance he had planned for the evening involved both singing and storytelling in multiple voices, and he had a number of rowdy drinking songs he could fall back on.  Judging by the crowd tonight – and his own nervousness – he would be breaking them out sooner rather than later.  He furiously suppressed another twinge of apprehension that settled in his gut like a cold, hard lump of coal. _Nothing to worry about,_ he told himself ruthlessly.  _Just another performance, nothing special.  And likely to be a lucrative one, too, with the brew flowing so freely._

Bran had been fighting off similar bouts of nerves ever since hearing the rumor that Armiger might be there tonight.  He’d successfully evaded the man’s grasp so far, but if he wasn’t careful his luck would run out.  _If I wasn’t so desperate for coin…._  He sighed.  _But I am.  No use denying it.  And what are the chances he’ll really show up tonight?  Though if I’d heard the rumors before accepting the job, I might have looked elsewhere…or at least taken the job as someone other than ‘Bran Ravenwood, itinerant minstrel’.  Mordechai would have worked just as well, and he would never know me in that guise.  Even Tessa wouldn’t recognize me in that getup.  But the crowd’s expecting Bran, and disappointing them would be more likely to carry my name to Armiger’s ears than carrying on.  I’ve grown quite fond of Bran.  He’s….comfortable.  It would be unfortunate to be forced to retire him._

He listened for a moment, judging the tenor of the crowd.  _Well, it’s showtime._  Steeling himself, he donned a floppy plumed hat, pasted a genuine seeming smile on his face and swept out of the small room and back into the taproom.  He strode confidently, his lute slung over his shoulder and his multicolored cloak swirling around his legs as he gestured broadly and exchanged pleasantries with the patrons he had earlier been watching.  When he reached the center of the taproom, he turned with a flourish.  He gestured subtly, fingering a bit of fleece he had retrieved from his pouch on the way in, and cast a minor glamour which would amplify his voice and make it carry to all corners of the crowded and noisy tavern.  He paused for a moment, fingers poised over the strings of his lute, then started into a quick and lively tune to set the mood for the revelers.  He picked up the pace as he played, dancing around and acting out the parts of the drunkard and his wife.  
_”As I went home on Moonday night as drunk as drunk could be,
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be.
Well, I called me wife and I said to her:  Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?”_​
His voice changed to a clear soprano,
_”Ah, you’re drunk,
You’re drunk you silly old fool,
Still you can not see.
That’s a lovely sow that me mother sent to me!”_​
And then back to tenor.
_”Well, it’ many a day I’ve travelled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before…”_​
The song continued, getting progressively more raunchy, and his gestures and voices progressively more expansive, before ending the song on a final flourish.
_”…but hair on a tin whistle sure I never saw before!”_​
Bran dropped the glamour as he swept into a bow on the closing line, then stood and caught the eye of a passing waitress.  “Thank you, thank you!  There’s plenty more where that came from, never you fear, but first I’ll need a small libation to smooth the way!”  Accepting a tankard from the girl with a nod of thanks, he started making his way through the crowd, stopping here and there to chat with a patron or tell a tall tale.  Occasionally he sipped at the tankard of beer, suppressing a grimace at the taste.  He routinely made arrangements with several of the staff to serve him only heavily watered down beer and wine, a habit he had developed to help him keep his senses sharp and his wits about him during performances, but the taste left something to be desired.
[sblock=song]The lyrics are not mine, but were adapted from a version of an old Irish drinking song called “Seven Drunken Nights” by The Dubliners.
The “glamour” was a Minor Illusion cantrip.[/sblock]


----------



## Shayuri (Sep 24, 2014)

Kestrel sat alone at a table at a remove from the others. The light seemed dimmer there, though it wasn't fair to call it shadowy. She'd avoided the shadows quite deliberately, even though her back and scalp itched to be sitting so openly. She was a slim, somewhat small woman; not far past the point where 'girl' would have been a better term for her. Her skin was a little pale, with her eyes as dark as polished onyx. Her hair was boyishly short and as dark as her eyes. Her clothes were ordinary enough; simple peasant garb in earthtone tan and green. A sharp eye might have noted a little black poking out from under her tunic's sleeve, but it was easy to miss. The same was true of how her twilight grey cloak hung a little oddly, concealing the scabbard she'd belted at her back. She'd lowered her backpack to the floor by her chair, and it at least was just as it seemed.

She scanned the crowd every so often, paying the insipid music of the bard no mind. Kestrel was not here to lose herself in song and drink. She was here to meet someone.

[sblock=Some time ago, in the Quiet Tabernacle]"...and therefore, against my better judgment, I have decided that you will be tested."

Kestrel waited silently. The man before her was older, but not quite 'elderly,' with a tall and thin build and a pinched, narrow face. His eyes were deeply lined, and the bags under them spoke of someone who did not sleep well. He was Minister of Whispers; the official spymaster for the Shade Council, though it was an open secret that each of the Ministers had their own sources of intelligence as well.

In short, he was a man who could end her with considerably less effort than a snap of his fingers. While terrifying, two things kept Kestrel's fear in check. Firstly, that description applied to a great many people in the Tabernacle and the shock value had largely worn off during her time there. Secondly, she had learned a mental trick to help keep fear at bay. As she studied him, she catalogued vulnerable points, crafting an imaginary scenario where she could exploit them each in turn, and destroy him.

He noted her appraisal and while his lips smiled a little, his eyes hardened. "Do you hate me, child?"

"No," Kestrel said immediately. _Feint for the carotid artery in the throat; force him to defend. Sidestep with his block and use boot knife to open femoral._

The Minister's eyes glittered with private amusement at how her answer came without hesitation. "Why not?"

"Because hate is weakness," she replied. _Steal a sock of his and drop it into the Retriever's cell..._ 

The amusement faded from the Minister's expression and he stiffly handed a roll of vellum to Kestrel. "You can speak the words. Let us see how you act on them." 

She unrolled the vellum, thinking. To get the mission directly from the Minister, as just an Initiate, implied things about the assignment that were almost certainly bad. First, it was so secret that he didn't trust a subordinate, like her instructor, to give it to her. Second, it was a test. The Council's tests were notoriously lethal. The barracks had been full of horrible stories that all started with, '...he got a test from the Council.' Third...she had no idea what it meant.

Temple of the Frog.

Kestrel looked up from the vellum. "It doesn't say what I'm supposed to do."

The minister smiled his oily smile. "Consider that the first problem. You are free to leave the Tabernacle. When you have completed your assignment to your satisfaction, return to us here. If you take too long, or if you seem to be making efforts to evade observation, you will be judged disobedient."

"How long is too lo..."

"Lets just say, the sooner you stop whining questions and begin your task, the better. For you."

Kestrel stared at the Minister of Whispers for a long moment. _I've heard he's afraid of the undead. Hang a skeleton in his room connected by a line to his doorknob. Hide behind dresser. He comes in, the skeleton 'attacks' him, distracting him long enough for me to get in behind him and kill him._

Finally she nodded, turned and walked out. She dropped the vellum over one of the torch-sconces outside his door as she passed by it. It burst into a puff of flame and smoke, and was gone.[/sblock]

It had taken her the better part of two days of poking around to learn what the Temple of the Frog was, and where to go to learn more. She learned a few other things as well. For one, she'd been trapped in that damned Tabernacle for over two years. It was all sealed off inside, with no sunlight allowed to enter. Keeping track of days quickly became impossible. For another, she'd grown rather accustomed to operating in the dark. Her first few hours in the sun were physically painful to her eyes...and her skin had lost some color.

It had been very hard not to just run. Take her chances and flee. Even knowing about the Retriever, and even knowing the Council wouldn't ever let anyone escape. There was a part of her that wanted freedom enough to die for it.

But another part, a bigger part, felt that freedom to die wasn't freedom at all. It thought she wasn't done with them yet. Not by even a little.

So for now, she had to be good.

The man that Jenny Tickles called The Librarian had been very concise in his assessment of the Temple of the Frog. There was someone who could help her find it, and he would be here. But since she'd only been able to pay for one answer, and didn't have time to get enough for more, he refused to tell her anything else.

That was how Kestrel found herself in an inn she didn't want to be in, waiting for a man she didn't know how to identify to tell her how to find a temple she'd never heard of on the behalf of an organization she wanted nothing to do with.

...what a night.


----------



## sithramir (Sep 24, 2014)

Taranis walks into the Everflowing Spigot and glances around. Noticing someone that appears to be familiar he heads towards that table.

Short for a human, but tall for an elf, he clearly has some sort of elven heritage mix. As he walks into the taven, he immediately attracts some attention. These aren't the looks of someone you see every day just walking into the bar. A lute strapped on his back and a dueling rapier on his belt, Taranis is wearing studded leather armor and traveling gear. Red and orange colored hair and beard with well groomed curls and green eyes the color or jade. He almost looks picture perfect, except for when he's not smiling it just doesn't look right.

_These places are always so familiar. Isn't that Alton over there?...no Andor, Alder....Ander!_

Noticing the performer on stage, Taranis smiles with a wave. Always happy to see another one of talent.

_Glad I won't be bothered about my lute today. This performer sounds better than most so this might just be an enjoyable night. These heathens are likely undeserving of it anyways._

Walking to a table he begins making conversation and orders a brew.


----------



## mudbunny (Sep 24, 2014)

Alara entered the room behind a short humanoid with both elvish and human features. She matched him in height, but her scarred hands and haunted eyes contrasted strongly with the smile from the man in front of her. The only thing in common was their hair. As she entered into the tavern, she quickly moved into the shadows. She was not sure why she had to be here, on this day, at this time. 

_All will be revealed in time_ is the feeling that she got from Eltab, combined with a mild sense of rules, contracts and bargains.

Looking around, she found a table that had a few chairs free. As she sat down, she whispered an order into the ear of the waitress.


----------



## fireinthedust (Sep 24, 2014)

Xana Stormborn walked through the doors of the tavern, head covered by a grey wool hood from her cloak, the hem sewn with swirling patterns in black: decorative, complex, but subdued.  Her hood shook, and a moment later a bestial face with beady black eyes popped out of the shadows: a monkey with grey fur and purple skin on its face and hands, and black wings on its back. It scurried down off the shoulder of its master, and climbed over the figure's front, then back into the cloak. An amulet was revealed as the monkey rushed into the cloak, one shaped like a crystalline orb with a figure 8 carved into the surface; the orb had a fiery cat's eye warp in the middle that caught the light, flashing as if it was on fire, before once more seeming like plain, clear glass.

Xana was slight of built, smaller than the other patrons, and she seemed to scurry from one spot to another as she walked into the room. Her cloak rustled as the monkey inside climbed around her body.

Odum, hold still! the girl hissed, and limped for a moment as the monkey seemed to be sitting on her leg, then moved back up to her chest. 

Well, I'm trying to get comfortable! You keep moving! And I don't like just sitting here while you have all the fun, I want to go explore the world... but those people are judging me, watching me, I can't go out there. I'm hungry. Came the reply, with little hands tugging at her blouse.

Rolling her eyes, the still-hooded figure asked the nearest tavern wench for a meal and some nuts, for the monkey, then hustled to find a corner booth, to sit and wait for... whatever it was that was supposed to "enlighten" her next.

Taking off her hood, Xana revealed the face and body of a beautiful young lady, not quite a woman. She was excessively attractive, despite the large glasses on her nose, of slim build but perfect features.  Her skin was fair but with reddish shades, and her eyes glowed like hot coals behind her glasses. Her head was covered by a pointed hat with a wide brim, and two horns coming out of the front, at the same angle as if they were attached to her forehead. Her clothes were a white blouse with a black and grey bodice, while over her arms and hands were knitted grey sleeve-gloves. She kept her cloak around her as if she was cold, but moved her pack next to herself under the cloak. Xana grabbed a thick book, lay it on the table in front of her, and started reading. As she did this, she grabbed some yarn from a belt pouch, and started knitting.

The monkey sat on the table next to her book, peeking at the words, climbing on her shoulder, and peering at the performer on stage.  As the serving wench arrived with the food and nuts, he grabbed the bowl.
Thanks he said, and stuffed his face. Bits of nuts fell onto the table, and Odum grunted as he crammed each new handful into his tiny mouth.
The waitress' jaw dropped.
Sorry, he's a nervous eater. Xana said quickly, putting coin on the table, and smiling at the wench.


----------



## Herobizkit (Sep 25, 2014)

Samara Renae approached the door of the tavern with some trepidation.  She had heard the tales from her fellow parishioners - drunken revelry, ladies of the evening, fist-fighting - the mere thought of it made her unintentionally shiver.  And the noise, and the volume of people... This would be nothing like her quiet studies in the temple's athenaeum, nor like her treasured moments practicing _armatura_ with her mother.

Her vision was unmistakable, however, and she knew in her heart that she had been Called to do Saint Cuthbert's work.  Now was the time to prove her worthiness to the title of Billet.

She ran her hand through her pixie-style blonde hair, cut short for convenience more than style, and she adjusted her russet and gold tunic that identified her as a Cleric.  With her slightly pointed ears and emerald-green eyes, she looked moreso an elf than human, and her scale mail looked almost too heavy for her wispy body.  She fidgeted with her shield on her back and her belt carrying her mace; she was clearly stalling. Gritting her teeth, she thought, _Salvation is better than smart answers_, and strode into the bar.


----------



## Brother Dave (Sep 25, 2014)

Time seemed to drag on this evening.  Bran had been through several sets so far, acting out tales, alternating ballads and raucous drinking songs, leading the crowd in songs until his voice started to fail.  _They can't complain that I haven't given them their money's worth tonight, _he thought, his throat dry and his feet and fingers sore.  _Time for a break._  He waved at the crowd, hefted his lute, and headed to the bar. 

 His gaze lingered for a moment on an uncomfortable looking dark haired girl sitting nervously at a small table by herself.  She had a look about her, something familiar.  She looked.....furtive?  Hunted?  He shook his head, laughing at himself.  _Takes one to know one._  Knowing that his attention would probably just make her nervous, he forced himself to look away and move on.

The room was crowded, but Bran finally found an empty stool next to a tough looking gnome lass sitting on the bar itself. Her feet were propped on the stool, and she was leaning back, obviously enjoying her sampling of the new brew. _Looks like it's not her first, either._  He tipped his hat to her with an amused smile, then gestured to the barkeep for a (watered down) drink of his own and plopped down on the stool, his back to the bar so he could keep an eye on the crowd and the door.  

He took a few moments to mentally review his performance, then turned his thoughts to some of the more interesting patrons he'd seen enter the tavern.  He'd been on edge throughout his performance, his nerves forcing him to glance with some apprehension at the door every time someone new had entered, and a few of the people who came in stood out in his mind. 

The flame-haired man with the lute and the vaguely elven features had drawn most of the female eyes in the room - and quite a few of the male eyes as well.  The man had waved a friendly greeting - professional courtesy, he knew, for a fellow performer - which Bran returned absently with a nod.  _Maybe I should ask him to share a song...  No, if he wants to join me on stage I'm sure he'll approach me.  Probably just wants to enjoy the premiere in peace._

The man had drawn so much attention that Bran had almost missing the girl who slipped in behind him.  Her eyes seemed haunted as she glanced around and quickly moved into the shadows where he'd lost track of her, but her scarred hands and the hints of muscle suggested she could take care of herself.  _She's a looker, too,_ he thought appreciatively, _though she's no Tessa,_ he added loyally.  _Probably has to fight off more than her share of 'admirers'._

Thoughts of Tessa brought his mind back to the threat posed by Lord Armiger.  He had mixed feelings about the possibility of seeing him here tonight.  He certainly didn't look forward to seeing *him* - or his inevitable guards - but the thought of possibly seeing Tessa on his arm had his heart rate quickening every time he considered it.  He sighed, then shook the thought out of his head and went back to pondering some of the more unusual guests.

The most interesting by far was the attractive young Tiefling lass in the glasses and heavy cloak.  Not just because she was a Tiefling - they were unusual, but a common enough sight these days.  And the cloak itself was worth noting, with its swirling patterns.  But the _monkey_ - _that_ was remarkable.  _You don't see many of those around._  There was something odd about its back, too, though he couldn't place it.  Based on their behavior, they were obviously very attached to each other.  

He looked around the common room, trying to spot them again, and eventually found the monkey sitting on a table, stuffing its mouth full of nuts from a bowl. The Tiefling girl was intently studying a tome in front of her and...._knitting?_...seemingly oblivious to the activity around her.  He raised an eyebrow at the knitting, then smiled in genuine delight as he watched the monkey. Seeing it brought back memories - the good memories, from before he discovered his parents' secret life.  One of the stagehands at the theater had owned one, a little smaller than the one here tonight.  _Well, more like it owned him,_ he thought, smiling again, remembering the mischief and chaos the creature had caused.  His smile slipped for a moment.  _That life is behind me, now.  No sense dwelling on it,_ he told himself sternly.  Still, he couldn't help watching the monkey's antics for a while with a wistful look on his face.

He eventually tore his eyes from the monkey and continued sweeping the room, spotting once again the slim pixie-haired girl with the shield on her back sitting primly at a table.  He frowned slightly as he remembered how out of place, how uncomfortable she had looked as she came in.  _I doubt she's ever been in one of these places before.  Probably not a drinker.  Wonder what she's doing here at the premier of a new brew, of all times?  Must be a story there._ 

He watched her for a moment more, then resumed his scan until he heard the door open again.  His eyes immediately snapped back to the entrance, and he sighed in mixed relief and frustration when he saw it was just a couple of sailors staggering in, looking like they'd already been drinking elsewhere.  No doubt they'd be passed out on the floor somewhere before long.  

Satisfied he had the lay of the room again, he kept one eye on the door and let his mind drift as he sipped at his watery beer...


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Sep 25, 2014)

_OOC: Brother Dave, awesome post, but, for future reference, try not to assume any actions on the part of other PCs (or their familiars, pets, etc).
_
The braumeister, Stenton, a barrel of a man as wide almost as wide as the double doors he entered through, roared to the crowd in a joyous baritone as he dragged a cart full of kegs behind him, "Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, I bring you Stenton Brewery's new brew, Gold Nectar!"

The bar staff quickly began tapping the kegs and pouring mugs, passing them around as eager beer connoisseurs formed a ragged line.  

With all the attention focused around the bar, few people noticed one more person entering the tavern.  A haunted looking, slender individual, face obscured by a large hooded cloak.  The individual's gender was indeterminate, but their clothes were travel-worn and stained by the blood of many battles.  The slender person carried themselves like a warrior who has seen too much of war, the longsword on their back seeming like an unwanted burden.

From under their hood, the person scanned the room, seeking someone.  Their eyes, a strange glowing green, meet Alara's, then Bran's, then Xana's, then Taranis', then Kestrel's, then Samara's, then Lillily's, each in turn.  They then sit in a dark corner furthest from the beer drinking crowd...waiting.


----------



## Shayuri (Sep 26, 2014)

Kestrel frowned a little. She didn't like how he'd looked at a few other people too. But this was her only lead, and she couldn't help feeling like she was already taking too long.

So she got up, went to his table and sat down.


----------



## fireinthedust (Sep 26, 2014)

Odum looked at Xana, as she locked eyes with the hooded figure that entered, then at the figure directly.  When Xana broke the stare, she looked down at her tome immediately.

What the heck was that? Who is that?  Is that the guy?  That's the guy!

What are you talking about? What guy?

I dunno, the guy-guy. The one Azalak told you had "vast and magical... um..." What did he say again? Anyway, I bet that creepy guy is them, him. That. Go make friends with him.

Are you kidding me? I came in here with a hood to hide my horns, until I could hide them with this hat and my eyes with these glasses.

(I like the hat.) 

(thanks, me too.) And I'm only this way by accident, but I'm really very nice. That hood-guy is wearing a hood on purpose. What are the odds that people wearing hoods are accidental monsters and both very nice? None! No way, I'm staying here. You go.

Me?! Send the monkey? What are you gonna do, stay here and knit?!

No!  I'll... monitor... you... Why are we even talking about this? How do we know Azalak didn't send use here to meet... that minstrel who just came off stage? Or that one, over there?

Yeah, right, the Cambion King sent you here for the mystical secrets learned (a) from the creepy warlock-looking scary guy, or (b) by flirting with cute boys!

Master and familiar glared at each other for a long moment.

Fine! I'll go talk to the Warlock-demon-in-a-cloak! Xana slammed her tome shut and shoved it into her satchel, clutching her cloak around her body. She stomped towards the shadows where the newcomer had placed themselves. I hope the new Master you get when I'm melted into goo thinks monkey paws grant wishes!

Fine! Then you can explain what that means when I get back from talking to those cute boys! Odum stormed off, hopping along shoulders to land in front of the nearest handsome half-elven Bard.

Hey. I just got in a big fight with my girlfriend. Got any peanuts?


----------



## Kobold Stew (Sep 26, 2014)

Brother Dave said:


> The room was crowded, but Bran finally found an empty stool next to a tough looking gnome lass sitting on the bar itself. Her feet were propped on the stool, and she was leaning back, obviously enjoying her sampling of the new brew. _Looks like it's not her first, either._  He tipped his hat to her with an amused smile, then gestured to the barkeep for a (watered down) drink of his own and plopped down on the stool, his back to the bar so he could keep an eye on the crowd and the door.




Lillily smiles when Bran sits down next to her. He doesn't look like he wants conversation but she makes small talk, smirking when he orders a weak beer, and suggesting that he might want to pace himself. She offers her name, but doesn't pursue anything deep, enjoying the time just watching those come in. As it turns out this is her first pint, but she asks him to fetch one of the new brew once it starts being distributed, if he wouldn't mind terribly, thankyouverymuch. 

(If he does, great; if not, he will receive an eye roll, and she'll upend her empty stein onto the bar, and hop down and make her way to grab one of the new brew for herself, and one for Bran as well.)

The appearance of the shrouded figure (an elf, perhaps? hmmmm) intrigued Lillily, if only because he (she?) was so obvious about being seen. "You going over?" Lillily asks Bran, smiling big, with the gap in her smile front and center. 

She hops down again and makes her way over to the figure. 

"Hi!", she says, sitting down beside him. "I'm Lillillily. hee."


----------



## sithramir (Sep 26, 2014)

The instance the hooded stranger's and Taranis's glowing green eyes locked a sort of recognition overcame him.

"_It can't be. Could it truly be another Sidhe warrior? Perhaps my worst fears haven't come to pass?_

Standing from his table, brew in hand, Taranis signals to his halfing companion his good-bye. Looking at the strange winged creature "_Come my little sheFAralach (a somewhat derogatory but common Sylvan word often used such creatures). We must tread lightly."_

His smile being replaced with a very serious and concerning look, Taranis slowly walks towards the stranger. He bows formally with a flourish. 

One of the barkeeps having kept her eyes lingering on Taranis steps by a new mug of the Nectar in her hands with a nervous smile as she glances as Taranis. A smile on his face only for the waitress he asks "_Young miss. If you could provide a mug for my new friend?_ A small sleight of hand to pull out a silver piece for her.

Turning to the newcomer he asks "_Lo Alul. Mie'Lorvor eretes. Val Taranis._ A Sylvan greeting roughly translated to "Good Eve. My sword is sheathed, My name Taranis", followed in common with "_May I sit?_


----------



## Kobold Stew (Sep 26, 2014)

sithramir said:


> Turning to the newcomer he asks "_Lo Alul. Mie'Lorvor eretes. Val Taranis._ A Sylvan greeting roughly translated to "Good Eve. My sword is sheathed, My name Taranis", followed in common with "_May I sit?_




"Join us!" insists Lillily. "Hi!"


----------



## Brother Dave (Sep 26, 2014)

Kobold Stew said:


> Lillily smiles when Bran sits down next to her. He doesn't look like he wants conversation but she makes small talk, smirking when he orders a weak beer, and suggesting that he might want to pace himself. She offers her name, but doesn't pursue anything deep, enjoying the time just watching those come in. As it turns out this is her first pint, but she asks him to fetch one of the new brew once it starts being distributed, if he wouldn't mind terribly, thankyouverymuch.




Bran exchanged names and pleasantries with the gnome, Lillily, and laughingly went to fetch her a pint of the Gold Nectar.  Returning with the brew, he had the eerie feeling that he was being watched.  He turned and met a pair of glowing green eyes that seemed to bore into his soul.  For a moment he felt as if he were rooted in place; then the gaze moved on to another and he gasped, not realizing until that moment that he had been holding his breath.  _That's trouble, right there,_ he thought.  He shivered, then shrugged it off and returned with Lillily's brew.



Kobold Stew said:


> "You going over?" Lillily asks Bran, smiling big, with the gap in her smile front and center.




Bran had a strange feeling he knew what she meant, though he hoped he was wrong.  He didn't need more excitement in his life right now.  Sure enough, when he turned to follow her course, he found that she was headed straight for the cloaked figure.  _Of course she is._

He debated whether to follow or get back to work, then signed in resignation.  _Was there ever any doubt.  Of course you'll follow, nitwit,_ he thought to himself, setting actions to thoughts as he made his way through the crowd after Lillily.  _You just can't resist a mystery, can you?  Or a challenge.  Probably get yourself killed this time._  Despite his self deprecating thoughts, he moved quickly to catch up.  "Aye, lass, I'm coming," he said quietly.  _Besides, the lass is in her cups.  She might need a clear head along,_ he rationalized - though it was fairly obvious she could handle herself.  _And who knows - it might make for a good story someday._

As they neared the newcomer's table, he saw that he and the gnome girl were not the only ones to respond to the...summons?  The pretty elf-blooded lad with the lute and the tiefling girl also appeared to be converging on the table. _Hmm...I wonder who else is joining this little party._  Bran moved discretely off to one side, standing where he could see and hear the interactions at the table and still see anyone entering the tavern.  He settled into his familiar information gathering stance and waited patiently to see what would happen next.


----------



## fireinthedust (Sep 27, 2014)

OOC:  Is Bran not one of the half-elf bards?  Gotta double check the RG thread.  I'd intended to give him someone to talk to, in the form of Odum.  Ah well.

IC:  

Xana walked up to the cloaked figure's table, but before she could say anything, other patrons passed her and sat down at the booth. She was about to casually stroll past the table, when Odum landed on her shoulder.

Did you talk to him?  Did he melt you?  Hey look, you made some friends!  Geez, all I got was funny looks.  Hey guys!  You're not face-melting Warlocks, right? 

The winged monkey on Xana's shoulder waved at that last part, his voice sounding scratchy and casual.

Xana's face is stunned, having her monkey talking to strangers. The other patrons don't seem so bad, but the cloaked figure still gives her a sense of unease.


----------



## Herobizkit (Sep 27, 2014)

Samara frowned as she watched the minions of what she she assumed was the demon from her vision gather around it.  A gnome and a pair of creatures with likely familiars... this did not bode well.  Wisdom would dictate that she return to the temple to seek reinforcements, but if she left now, she might lose sight of the demon and the search would begin anew.

Besides, there were scads of patrons around... innocents, all... but then, perhaps not.

Didn't the demon from her vision have yellow eyes?

_Ah_, Samara thought, _a trickster indeed.  _She gathered her resolve, and with a quick prayer,_ Better to ask forgiveness than permission_, she strode purposefully to the cloaked figure's table with the others.

Samara clutched her holy symbol in hand and, with an accusatory finger, pointed at the green-eyed figure and declared, "Stand and be judged, Deceiver!"


----------



## Brother Dave (Sep 27, 2014)

Herobizkit said:


> ...Samara clutched her holy symbol in hand and, with an accusatory finger, pointed at the green-eyed figure and declared, "Stand and be judged, Deceiver!"



At the outburst, Bran raised his eyebrows and took a cautionary step back.  _Oh, now THIS should be interesting._


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Sep 27, 2014)

The cloaked figure starts to respond to Taranis when they are interrupted by Samara.  The glowing green eyes fix on Samara and a whispered voice emerges from the hood, not human, but not threatening, "Deception and truth are two extremes of one spectrum.  Just as good and evil, law and chaos...anything that people define as one or the other.  All these things exist not as dualities, but as ranges of being, with the center always holding, always balanced, always enduring, when the extremes fall."

The hood is pulled back, revealing a face without an identifiable gender, elven in shape, but somehow neither elven nor fey.  The being has an otherworldly quality, a presence that is felt, not seen, and hard to describe.  The not-elf turns back to Taranis, _"Yralla taen sirve, muir thyalre." _It takes a moment for Taranis to muddle through the words...they were an ancient dialect from a timeless place, something before sylvan and elven, the root from which both languages sprung.  The translation was roughly, "Respect and honor I, to you, give."

_OOC: Anyone with knowledge of both the elven and sylvan languages can piece together the translation as well.  Otherwise, make a DC 20 Wisdom (Insight) or Intelligence (Arcana) check._

The not-elf's glowing green eyes again examines each of those gathered in turn, lingering on Taranis and Samara.  Though he speaks to all, his gaze remains fixed on Samara, "I apologize if I offend or disturb.  I am not a demon or agent of evil.  Nor am I an agent of good.  I simply am.  And I need your help."


----------



## sithramir (Sep 27, 2014)

_"How foolish I was to think another Sidhe would just walk into a tavern. My imagination always getting the best of me." Taranis realizes with a shake of his head._

Taranis takes his hand off of his Rapier, not having realized he had put it there hearing the half-elf cleric's outburst and takes a seat.

_OOC: I will make an Insight +3 check on the strangers intentions?_ http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4658986/ (Roll is 18+3 = 21)

Sensing he may have already gotten himself involved and thinking it likely a smart idea to gauge this newcomers intentions he asks _"Perhaps we should learn a bit more of you and your plight over an ale? As you now know my name, what it is I should call you?_ Looking at Bran and Lillily questioningly _And your names as well?_


----------



## Kobold Stew (Sep 27, 2014)

Lillily looks between Bran and the hooded figure, and say eerily, "Oooooooooo...". She then takes a sip of the beer.


----------



## fireinthedust (Sep 27, 2014)

OOC:  Yay, I speak Elven!

IC:


Xana leans in and looks at the ancient script, adjusting her glasses to hide her eyes from the cleric, and hoping her horns still look like decorations on her hat.   Hmm, ancient elven? I'm a... I read a lot of books on this sort of thing.  Librarian.  What is it you want us to help with?  Um, by "us" I mean... well, if there are things like ancient scripts, I'd guess you're looking... to hire adventurers?  So, um... what's the adventure?


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Sep 28, 2014)

_OOC: There was nothing written.  All the ancient sylvan/elven was spoken aloud. Sorry about the confusion._


----------



## Brother Dave (Sep 28, 2014)

OOC: Wisdom (Insight) (1d20+3=21)

Bran's brow furrowed when he heard the words spoken by the stranger.  _It sounds...similar...to Elven.  Maybe an ancient dialect?_  He puzzles through the words.  _Respect and....honor?...to you...  Something like that._  He bowed his head in acknowledgement.

He then turned to Taranis.  "My apologies, I forget my manners."  He swept his plumed hat from his head and across his midsection in a deep bow.  "Bran...Bran Ravenwood, Itinerant Minstrel and Teller of Tales.  At your service."  He stood and quirked his mouth in a smile.  "And I gather you are...Taranis?  I'm afraid I didn't follow all of your greeting to this....being...here.  It sounded a little like Elvish, but...not.  I couldn't quite place it.  But your name seemed clear enough."

He turned to speak directly to the stranger.  "You looked right at me when you came in, like you knew me...like you could see..."  He shook his head.  "No matter."  He swept his hand around the table, indicating the entire group standing or sitting there.  "If I'm not mistaken, you singled out all of us here at the table with you.  Why?  Why us?  How do you expect us to help you?"


----------



## fireinthedust (Sep 28, 2014)

[sblock=Xana's Arcana Roll plus some OOC] OOC:  Arcana roll:  http://[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4659670/]1d20+5=25[/URL]  I kid you not!  I rolled because Xana speaks Elven, but I didn't pick up Sylvan.  Maybe she came across that exact saying in a book recently?
[/sblock]

Xana thinks for a moment, remembering what she can about the spoken phrase.


----------



## Shayuri (Sep 28, 2014)

It was all Kestrel could do not to grit her teeth. So much chatting.

"I only need to know one thing," she said to the strange elf-thing. "Where do I find the Temple of the Frog? Name your price."


----------



## Herobizkit (Sep 28, 2014)

*OOC:*


Arcana = 15
Insight = 15





Samara Renae was prepared for this.  The creature appeared to be speaking in its demonic tongue, no doubt trying to sway her with honeyed words of fell Charming.  On the other hand, if this were truly a person in need of help, would he not turn to a priestess of Saint Cuthbert, and specifically, herself, as her vision indicated?

Samara set her jaw and continued, "Actions speak louder than words, Changeling.  Your pernicious influence does not so easily corrupt the purity of my faith.  Whomever you serve, surrender yourself or face my cudgel.  Once I have ensured that you no longer pose a threat, we may discuss this 'help' which you seek."


----------



## mudbunny (Sep 29, 2014)

Alara looks around, getting a sense of the room. She walks up next to Samara and speaks softly to her.

_I have seen far too many bar brawls start like this, and while it would be fun, I don't think that this is exactly what El...my patron... has in mind. Allow me to take sense of this creature._









*OOC:*


I use Divine sense to determine what type of creature is in front of us.

Divine Sense: The presence of strong evil registers on your sense like a noxious odor, and powerful good rings like heavenly music in your ears. As an action, you can open your awareness to detect such forces. Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any celestial, fiend or undead within 60 feet that is not behind total cover. You know the type (celestial, fiend or undead) of any being you sense but not its identity.


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Sep 29, 2014)

Alara senses nothing.  Whatever this not-elf person is, they are not celestial, fiend, or undead.

Taranis finds the not-elf inscrutable.  Whatever the not-elf has in mind, they aren't giving anything away from their facial expressions except fatigue and a sense of sadness or loss.

In answer to Bran, the not-elf says, "The shadowed one knows my intent by coincidence as it seems her goal is the same as mine.  The Temple of the Frog."  When Samara speaks, the not-elf stands and holds forth their hands, "You assume evil where there is none.  Your sense of good is very well defined by your church.  I wonder how well defined it is in your heart.  I have no quarrel with you or your church.  But your church also has no authority over one such as I.  My name is Araushnee, one of the six wives of the leader of the elven nations, Corellon.  I lead my people, the Kae'Athan, in the realm of Darkness, just as my sisters lead in the realms of Fire, Air, Water, and Light, far from the concerns of this human place called Blackmoor."

She sits back down, "As for the question of why I singled out each of you...I called to everyone here, subtly, magically.  You were the only ones who responded.  I did not choose you.  You chose yourselves.  As to the matter of payment, I do not have gold or gems.  I do have a cache of weapons and supplies nearby that I will make available to you if you agree to this journey."

Everyone in the motley group has heard at least a couple of rumors about the Temple of the Frog.  Situated in the Dismal Swamp, nearly five weeks ride to the north, the Temple is alternately rumored to be a hideout for cultists or bandits.  Some say both.  Regardless, no expedition into the swamp to find the Temple has yet been successful.  It is also well known that the brewing conflict between Blackmoor and the elves has something to do with the Temple.  

_OOC: Corellon, Araushnee, Hanali, Sehanine, Aerdrie, Sashelas, and Fenmarel are near-mortal beings similar in power to demon lords and the risen Saints of the Church of the Healing Light.  Not quite gods, but not mortal.  Elves know them well.  Most other races have heard the names in reference to elven leadership, though most assume they are simply mortal rulers similar to Blackmoor's governors, dukes, etc.  _


----------



## fireinthedust (Sep 29, 2014)

Xana holds her breath as Alara uses her senses, as she does when the half-elf challenges the stranger.  She hadn't thought about whether her fiendish curse would register her as a fiend, nor if her familiar Odum would set off the senses of these holy and pious people.

_I must be good of heart!  Whew! Note to self: good things *do* happen to good people!_ She sighs inwardly.


----------



## mudbunny (Sep 29, 2014)

After opening her eyes, Alara continues to whisper to Samara.

_Whatever this creature is, it is not celestial, fiend, or undead. Now, this does not mean that they are not blessed with ill-intentions towards us. I should caution also that they are probably much more powerful than they appear. My.......patron....... is of no insignificant power, and for this creature to be able to influence or offer something of interest to my patron would be no small feat._


----------



## Kobold Stew (Sep 29, 2014)

"This sounds like fun," suggests Lillily. "I'll have to talk to my captain first to see if he will be able to live without me. But don't worry," she says, looking around, "I'll keep you all safe."

She finishes off the beer (is it good? does she have enough information to report back to her captain?). Perhaps she goes off to try another draught, if the line has died down, pretending that she never got one in the first place. 

"Should we plan on leaving tomorrow? Ooh, if you have supplies and things, that's great. Do you have a gnome-sized breastplate that I could borrow? Ooh, and could one of you big and strong people carry my rations and things for me? I need to be swift and agile if I'm going to be any use to you, and it would help me if one of you could do that." She grins again. "Adventure!"




OOC: I asked about encumbrance rules here; I think the variant rules make sense, because of cases like Lillily, but of course it's DM's call.


----------



## Brother Dave (Sep 29, 2014)

Taken aback by Araushnee's response, Bran looked around at the small group while he ordered his thoughts.  He considered each of his erstwhile companions, measuring the little he knew of each and the danger they might face together.  _Can I trust them at my back?  Wait!  What am I thinking?  Do I even want to do this?_ 

He let his eyes travel around the crowded tavern, a knot forming in his stomach as they reached the door.  He thought of the months of running, travelling alone, always looking over his shoulder. Eking out a living entertaining drunkards, trying to stretch his small cache of coins between gigs.  Wondering when he would be caught.  Even if he eluded Armiger's grasp, he knew it was only a matter of time before his tongue got him in trouble again.  And knowing that somewhere, out there, _they_ were most likely still looking for him.

As he listened to the responses of the others, a slow smile started on his face.  Suddenly, the promise of a bold adventure seemed very appealing.  Looking forward instead of always looking back. Facing the unknown with hope instead of fear.  Making the stories instead of just telling them.  _And oh, the stories!_  He felt flushed at the prospect, more alive than he had felt in a long time. Did this creature, this godling, somehow know what was in his heart?  Did she know what he was running from?  _Does it matter?_ 

He nodded to Araushnee.  "All right.  If these others are going, then count me in as well."


----------



## Herobizkit (Sep 29, 2014)

Samara listened to Alara's calm explanation.  Eyeing her vestments and armaments, Samara deduced that she must be a holy crusader, not unlike herself.  In her studies, she read of warriors who possessed such virtue that they could see into the hearts of men and find Evil therein.  Samara nodded to Alara, satisfied with her assessment. _Thank you, warrior of virtue_, she whispered.

When the stranger identified itself as one of the noble Elven court, she nearly passed out from shock and embarrassment.

Immediately, she dropped to one knee before Araushnee and pleaded, "Forgive my impertinence, Sainted One!  My cudgel is yours; point me to this Temple and I shall cleanse it in your name."

Samara turned to face the group.  "I know neither your names nor your motivations, but know this: I am Samara Renae, Billet and priestess of Saith Cuthbert, and any who try to bring ruin to this holy task shall face swift and painful consequence."


----------



## mudbunny (Sep 29, 2014)

As Samara all but prostrates herself in front of Araushnee, Alara watches in astonishment. 

She nudges Samara with her foot. "Stand up you fool. No-one is worth this."

In her mind, Alara fires off a thought to Eltab. _Don't ever expect that from me._


----------



## fireinthedust (Sep 30, 2014)

So, let me try to understand you: you're saying you're an elven queen, and you want us to go to the actual Temple of the Frog... and do what, exactly?  Poke around, see what's in there? Or is there something specific you'd like us to get for you? I'm interested, but I would like to know... well, more. And why us? Wouldn't you have, I don't know, legions of elves willing to serve you? Knights and squires, I guess? We're strangers at a tavern. 

Xana blushes a bit when she realizes she's talking to potentially elven royalty.  I don't mean to be rude, um, your ladyship. I like to be thorough, is all. Librarian in me, I suppose you could say.


----------



## Shayuri (Sep 30, 2014)

While the others talked, the Kestrel listened. She'd gotten very good at that out of sheer necessity. By sheer coincidence? She thought not. The Council of Shades had set her on this collision course...and that made her think very carefully about their motives. She'd assumed the Temple of Frogs was the objective, but what if it was this Araushnee?

She led her people in the realm of Darkness.

If there was anything the Council despised, it was _competition._

Kestrel was fairly sure her intended purpose was not to try to kill this being. It was clear that was beyond her skills. It was rather more likely they wanted to know what Araushnee wanted with the Temple of Frogs. They'd found out about the elf-god's intended patronage, and sent someone as quickly as they could. And of course, because Kestrel had had to do her own legwork, it didn't look suspicious to anyone watching. She hadn't just come straight to the meeting, no...she'd had to seek it out. Ask around. Find it. Like anyone else would have.

To that end, she needed to play the part of one of these 'adventurers' a little more.

"I agree," she said quietly. "What do you want from us in the Temple? And is a 'cache' of weapons and supplies all the reward that awaits us, when we succeed?"


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Sep 30, 2014)

_OOC: Just to clarify, Araushnee is not a god.  In this setting, at least at the time of Blackmoor, Corellon and his wives are similar in power to the Court of Stars, though they serve as leaders of mortal elven nations.  
_
Araushnee answers the gnome, "I am not sure of the contents of the supplies to be honest.  They are the spoils of a skirmish with a party of bandits when I and my brethren first arrived in these lands.

When Samara prostrates herself, Araushnee looks around quickly to make sure no one is paying attention, then nods in agreement with Alara, "I am not one of your saints.  A leader I may be but of the elves, not of you.  I ask a favor of you, that is all."

She turns to Xana, "As I noted before, I called to everyone here.  You answered.  Why you answered when others did not only you can say.  As for what you will be doing...I would see the Temple destroyed, if possible.  Rendered powerless if not.  And I cannot command my people to do this.  They prepare for war with Blackmoor and...they do not know I am here.  Blackmoor wants to exploit the Temple's power.  My people say they want it destroyed but many among the leaders of our armies plot to capture it for themselves instead.  It must not fall into anyone's hands.  It must be destroyed."

To Kestrel she states simply, "Whatever spoils that lie within the Temple are yours as well.  I have no interest in whatever trinkets the cultists and bandits there have managed to collect.  If you require more, find me in the elven army's main camp on the northern coast when the Temple is destroyed and I will see to it that you are properly rewarded for your efforts."


----------



## sithramir (Sep 30, 2014)

I have traveled these lands and it is clear that much unrest already threatens these people.

If I can help bring comfort and safety back to these homes by investigating this Temple then I will indeed join you.

What other information do you have to help us on our journey? A map? Help with travel? Horses? Some magical means of traveling or providing us with a faster means to get there?

You mentioned nearly 5 weeks journey away. Assuming we were prepared to leave today a lot can happen then.


----------



## Shayuri (Oct 3, 2014)

Huh. That was interesting. 

"Why don't _you_ want to possess and use it's power?" Kestrel asked. "Why are you ready to destroy it so quickly?"


----------



## fireinthedust (Oct 4, 2014)

Xana looks at the bar patrons around them, speaking softly. I think we should get going. We look like adventurers, and she looks like an elf with glowing eyes. I'm sure our new employer would be able to handle herself, but any kind of trouble would attract notice. Maybe we should... She nods towards the door.

OOC: As a sage I'd know where to look stuff up about the temple of the frog. I'm using my sagely knowledge, finding a library, and looking up tales of the temple. Specifically, I'm looking for things that might give us a clue as to the dangers we may face there.

If that's not possible, I just tag along.

Also: are we getting supplies from her first, or only after we destroy the temple?


----------



## Kobold Stew (Oct 4, 2014)

"Neato," agrees Lillily.

She finishes her second pint, which given her mass leaves her quite tipsy. She has her report, and returns to the captain with it. She then takes her leave. 

Lillily can carry all of her supplies, but with food and things, shs near her encumbrance load, and is very happy to ask one of her companions if they'd be so kind as to carry her food for her, if it won't slow them down. (She eats as much as they, and so is grateful too for their patron's willingness to provide supplies.

When getting supplies, she checks to see if there is a gnome sized breastplate, but is unlikely to need more than basic provisions.


----------



## Brother Dave (Oct 6, 2014)

Sighing, Bran reluctantly pushed his romantic notions about adventuring to the back of his mind.  Now that the decision had been made, he needed to focus on more practical matters.  Like salvaging his reputation and getting paid.

"As enlightening and entertaining as this is, unless there's a reason we need to leave right this moment - and as late as it is, I don't recommend it - I really must to get back to work.  I've already taken more time than I should have, and I'd rather not develop a reputation for breaking contracts.  When and where should we meet?  I have no other pressing commitments at the moment, so I can be ready as soon as tomorrow morning.  Or do you need more time to get organized?"

He considered for a moment.  _Better not press my luck any more than I have already.  It would be just like Armiger to show up in the middle of our meeting._  "Ahhh...and if it's all the same to you, I would prefer not to meet back here.  Too many prying eyes.  No sense advertising our business to the entire city."


----------



## mudbunny (Oct 7, 2014)

Alara nods her head in agreement.

"This is not something we should be discussing in the light. Best done in the shadows, away from prying eyes and ears that might wish us harm."

With that, Alara backs away from the group, pulling her hood up over her face.

"This inn is far too loud for my tastes. I will be in the smaller inn just down the street, the Golden Sheathe, under the name Andora."


----------



## Shayuri (Oct 7, 2014)

Kestrel glanced at the others; so quick to make plans, so quick to trust. Well that was convenient for her at least. Not that she intended any ill towards them or anything, but she couldn't be sure how her orders might change over the course of all this. Best not to get too involved with them.

She looked back at her hostess then, still waiting for the answer to her questions.


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Oct 8, 2014)

_OOC: [MENTION=36150]Herobizkit[/MENTION] , are you still with us?_

Araushnee holds up her hands to quiet the questions, "The supplies are in a hidden elven camp, not far from the city.  I do not know what is available, but I will make sure my people do what they can to aid you without jeopardizing their own mission."

She looks at Kestrel with just a hint of anger, "I do not crave power.  My clan, the Kae'Athan, want nothing more than to be left alone.

Araushnee nods at the suggest of adjourning for the evening, "No more can be said this night.  I will find you in the morning."

_Later..._

Xana's research provides only sketchy details, but its enough to get a good start, at least.  The Temple of the Frog is rumored to be the forward section of the crashed ship of the ancient dragons. The midsection of the ship was found by the humans of Blackmoor in the Barrier Peaks not long ago and they have since pillaged and exploited it, furthering their own knowledge of magic, technology, and the combination there-of.  The Temple earns its name from the fact that the dragon-shaped ship's head is partially sunken into the swamp and overgrown with plant life, making it resemble a frog.  

The Temple is rumored to be the home of two groups who interests intersect.  A cult which utilizes magic and strange alchemies to create bizarre hybrid creatures, most notably oversized frogs and other reptiles; and bandits who have built a small town around the temple and use it as a base of operations for their raiding activities.

The Temple is situated somewhere in the Dismal Swamp.  Xana finds a partial map, drawn by one of the few lucky enough to escape the place, which shows most of a trail leading through the treacherous swamp.  The last mile or so of the map is, unfortunately smudged, torn, and useless.  

_OOC: If there are any other preparations you intend to make before you depart for the elven camp, post them now.  Next IC post the journey shall begin._


----------



## Kobold Stew (Oct 8, 2014)

Lillily says thanks to her captain, telling him her thoughts about the beer.  He discharges her, and she thanks him, uncertain when she'll next be at sea. As she disembarks, various crew members come out and she gives them hugs or high-fives or handshakes, as she feels appropriate.  She has her possessions with her, and is sorry to leave the place that has been her home for the past few months. But there are always other ships, and she knows she's served this one well.

"Let's see what's next..." she says, to no one in particular.


----------



## Herobizkit (Oct 8, 2014)

_OOC: Oh yes, still here.  I thought we were waiting for everyone to post so we could move on, and I thought my "Yes, let's go!" post was evident of that. _


----------



## sithramir (Oct 8, 2014)

Taranis nods his agreement. "Let us be on our way. We will do what we can to help neutralize this Temple."

OOC: Taranis is a drifter who knows someone at every place he has been. Not sure if perhaps he has been near that area or any others on the way. He will use that to find any information useful.

Do we need horses, etc? He wil meet at the place designated. Only need to know if we need to buy more rations and water.

Also can I buy potions of healing? I think I have enough if so


----------



## Brother Dave (Oct 8, 2014)

[sblock]Switching to present tense, since that seems to be the tense du jour anyway.  It's even symbolic, since it's time for Bran to stop dwelling so much on the past and focus on what's in front of him.  [/sblock]
Bran nods and backs away from the table, his attention returning to the patrons at large.  _Tomorrow will take care of itself.  Time to get back to work._  Looking back at the little gathering as it begins to disperse, he sighs. _ And something tells me some of my new 'friends' wouldn't mind if I generated a bit of a distraction._  He makes his way back to the center of the tavern, pulling his lute around in front of him.  He climbs up on a chair and starts strumming.  Thinking of Lillily, he grins and starts singing in a clear tenor voice,

"Hill ù o ro hù o
How I love the sailors - the sporting sailors
I'd happily follow and be one of them...."​
OOC: Assuming there are no further incidents of note (such as the untimely arrival of Lord Armiger, for example), Bran will spend the rest of the evening singing, acting out tales, and generally earning his keep.  He will then collect his pay and head to his room to catch a few hours of sleep.  If possible, that room will be in a different inn and reserved using his 'Gunter McGlast' identity as a precaution.  In the morning he will gather his meager belongings and, resuming his Bran persona, make his way to the Golden Sheathe to seek out Alara (or 'Andora'), reasoning that he might as well make it easier for Araushnee and the others to find him.  He was already prepared to leave town at a moment's notice (possibly while evading pursuit), so he doesn't have any particular provisioning he needs to do prior to departure.


----------



## fireinthedust (Oct 9, 2014)

Xana and Odum are ready to go.  After advising the others of where to meet up, at the cave, she brings the map and other information with her.  To those who meet up there, she described all that she's found so far.


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Oct 18, 2014)

_OOC: Yes, you can purchase a potion of healing or any other supplies you might need before departing.  List out what you intend to purchase and update your character sheet accordingly.  No supplies or horses or the like are being provided, at least not here, so anything you want now will have to be purchased with your own gold._

Araushnee does not meet the group, instead leaving a note for Alara to find...

My apologies for leaving so abruptly.  My presence in the city became known and I was forced to depart.  You will find the elven camp in the forest northwest of the city, about two days journey through the thickest part of the forest.  Beware, however, for there are goblins and many wild creatures in the area as well.

The elves may initially be hostile to your presence as they are not expecting you.  Call out in a clear voice, "Yralla Araushnee veya tes," and they will admit you into the camp.  When you arrive, speak with Jaerith, the scout leader, and he will provide you with what you need.

Those in the group who know the elven language can translate the pass phrase as "Respect Araushnee; she who leads."

_OOC: Please discuss and settle on a marching order while in the forest and let me know if the spellcasters intend to change their prepared spells (if they prepare their spells)._


----------



## Kobold Stew (Oct 18, 2014)

Lillily takes enough food for a few days, and asks again if someone will carry them for her. Assuming someone does, she will offer to walk at the front of the pack in the marching order.


----------



## Shayuri (Oct 18, 2014)

Unarmored and lightly armed, Kestrel has room to spare in her backpack and graciously totes some of the food. After all, if she has to abandon the group, it wouldn't do to have no rations, and she had no coin to buy her own. Kidding, of course.

She just would rather not spend it.

As the group makes their way to the rendezvous, and beyond, Kestrel takes up a position just behind the leader...where she won't be first in the line of fire, but will find it very easy to range ahead from and scout. Something she does often, and well.


----------



## sithramir (Oct 18, 2014)

Taranis the drifter takes third in the order. Ready as usual for travel.


----------



## Brother Dave (Oct 18, 2014)

Bran takes a place in the middle of the party, somewhere behind Taranis.  During the trip he alternates between regaling the others with old tales and idly strumming on his lute while he surreptitiously studies his companions, trying to fathom their motivations and work out their roles (he's already planning a series of ballads and a play based on their 'adventures').


----------



## Herobizkit (Oct 19, 2014)

Assuming that the party is walking two abreast, Samara will happily join Lillily in the front rank as she is eager to test her skills on the battlefield.  If not, she will act as rear guard, if only because she has some decent armor. 

Also, this would be the best spot for her to watch her erstwhile companions and get their measure.  Especially that Bran fellow.  Samara is certain she has seen him before, somewhere, and he seems the shifty sort.  Look at the way he casually spins tales while walking into potential danger...

_OOC: Samara prepares the spells listed on her character sheet._


----------



## fireinthedust (Oct 19, 2014)

Shayuri said:


> Unarmored and lightly armed, Kestrel has room to spare in her backpack and graciously totes some of the food. After all, if she has to abandon the group, it wouldn't do to have no rations, and she had no coin to buy her own. Kidding, of course.




OOC:  Yes!!!  Kestrel is officially my hero.

BTW:  Are there potions of healing available to bring?  Either with the supplies or in town that we can purchase from an alchemist?  I think it would be handy to have nearby, and this setting has technology available to the rich.  If it's in the cache our patron made available, it would help our cause.


IC:

Xana takes a share of rations as well, and some containers of lamp oil and tinder to light them with, just in case.


----------



## Kobold Stew (Oct 19, 2014)

Lillily thanks the larger adventurers for helping carry the heavy items.


----------



## fireinthedust (Oct 21, 2014)

Xana catches up to the others and plants herself in the middle, behind someone taller than herself.  Odum, on her shoulder, frequently peers over that person's shoulder, in case enemies attack.


So, have any of you ever done this sort of thing before?  I've only spent time reading about delving through ruins.  More tomes than tombs, right?  Xana grimaces at the poor joke, but tries to sound hopeful as the party moves forth, towards adventure.


----------



## Kobold Stew (Oct 21, 2014)

"Nope! I'm practically a baby," proclaims Lillily to those behind her, without looking back. Acknowledging Xana's jest, she adds, "Tomes are tame. Tombs teem! It's time, to me!"


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Oct 23, 2014)

*OOC:*


Mudbunny, whom I am Facebook friends with, was in Ottawa during today's shooting.  He is ok and safe, but likely won't be posting for a bit, though I don't want to speak for him so if he pops up and proves me wrong, I'll be happy to be wrong.







The forest northwest of the city is what the nobility refer to as a "preserve" - all manner of exotic and dangerous creates are allowed to dwell there so the nobles can hunt them for sport.

As a result, the forest is quite wild for being so close to a center of civilization and there are few trails.  

_OOC: Anyone who cares to can make a Wisdom (Survival) check to keep the group from getting lost.  Anyone who rolls a 15 or better will succeed._


----------



## sithramir (Oct 23, 2014)

9. Fail


----------



## Shayuri (Oct 23, 2014)

Kestrel was a city girl, despite the 'wildness' of her pseudonym. She didn't know much about surviving outside of walls and lights, but she was perceptive, and had good instincts. She put those to use, trying to keep the expedition from straying too far...

[roll0]


----------



## Kobold Stew (Oct 23, 2014)

"Follow me!" proclaims Lillily confidently, but mistakenly.

OOC: 1d20+1=12.


----------



## Brother Dave (Oct 23, 2014)

Bran is much too busy watching and learning about his companions and composing music to pay any attention to where the party is going.  He's really more of a people person anyway.
[sblock]Sure hope somebody knows what they're doing in the woods and is paying attention, or things are likely to get very interesting. [/sblock]


----------



## Herobizkit (Oct 23, 2014)

Quite frankly, thought Samara, I've read a lot about these woods but never actually ventured into them.  Surely the one named Xana can appreciate that... provided she retains her wits and hasn't been ensorcelled by whichever demon's blood courses through her veins.

Still, the city wasn't that far off... South and East, wasn't it?  Based on the position of the Sun, we should be...

Survival: 1d20+3=23

"Exactly where we must be," Samara said absent-mindedly. "No path is hidden while Saint Cuthbert holds your heart in his hand."

_Perhaps the blood of my no-account father is to thank for my "woodens' intuition".

_After a pause, Samara snorted loudly.


----------



## Kobold Stew (Oct 23, 2014)

"I'm sure it's this way," insists Lillily, pointing due North. 

She stares at Samara, but blinks almost instantly, and so she shrugs and accepts the new heading.


----------



## Herobizkit (Oct 23, 2014)

Samara blinks in response.  "I have studied this area well, though it was from within the temple's walls.  I am certain I've seen some record of adventurers passing through here... or perhaps a hand-painted map.  Or scroll..."

"Regardless, THIS is the way we must go," Samara pointed with a mailed finger.  "Worry not.  As sure as my heart beats, Saint Cuthbert guides us true."


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Oct 23, 2014)

A voice drifts to the group's ears from somewhere above them, "These saints of yours must be quite the woodsmen.  What business do followers of saints have here?"  The language spoken is the Common tongue of Blackmoor, but the accent is decidedly elven.

_OOC: Anyone who wishes to can make a Wisdom (Perception) check to spot the source of the voice._


----------



## Kobold Stew (Oct 23, 2014)

Lillily looks around.

1d20+4=15.


----------



## Shayuri (Oct 23, 2014)

Kestrel's sword appears in her hand, held in a curious reversed-grip that holds the blade along her arm. She drops to a stance for fighting, knees bent and feet apart, ready to move at a moment's notice.

She looks up, scanning the canopy with narrowed eyes...

[roll0]


----------



## Brother Dave (Oct 23, 2014)

Wisdom (Perception) (1d20+1=8)

Bran stops strumming his lute and looks up at the sound of the voice, his eyes wide, but he doesn't see anything but trees and sky.  He cranes his neck and turns in a circle.  Nothing.


----------



## sithramir (Oct 23, 2014)

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4690086/
Perception = 18 (Just realized I have +3 not +4).

Taranis looks up his hand ready on his rapier. He calls out a formal Elvish greeting of Hello.









*OOC:*


It is acceptable for me to be pushed to the back of the order if need be.


----------



## fireinthedust (Oct 23, 2014)

Xana thinks about everything she's read about forests, especially this one.  [roll0]

Odum, her familiar, likewise ponders the dangers of the wood.  [roll1]


----------



## fireinthedust (Oct 23, 2014)

OOC:  looks like Xana had a passage bookmarked on this forest!    Odum, for his part, is distracted by ghost stories, and picking lice from the hair of the nearest party member (and eating it for the protein).


Xana and Odum likewise look up as the voice speaks with an elvish accent.  

((Xana's perception: [roll0]  Odum: [roll1]))

We mean no harm!  "Yralla Araushnee veya tes," 

The sage calls out the phrase Araushnee advised them to say.  She speaks elven fluently, so the accent is clear.


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Oct 27, 2014)

_OOC: [MENTION=36150]Herobizkit[/MENTION], [MENTION=56746]mudbunny[/MENTION], are you still with us?_


----------



## mudbunny (Oct 27, 2014)

*OOC:*


GODDARNED NOTIFICATIONS NOT NOTIFYING!!

I'm still here, but was waiting for notification that something had happened. I will be posting a catch up later on this afternoon.


----------



## Herobizkit (Oct 28, 2014)

*OOC:*


@Kiraya_TiDrekan : sure am, just waiting for things to carry on.


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Oct 28, 2014)

*OOC:*


Feeling ill today.  Someone please post in the OOC thread to remind me to post here, hopefully tomorrow.  Thanks.


----------



## Shayuri (Nov 4, 2014)

(OOC - Consider yourself reminded )


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Nov 4, 2014)

Tomorrow, after my interview thingy, I'm hoping to get posts in for everything.  Cross your fingers.


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Nov 10, 2014)

Lillily, Xana, and Taranis see about half a dozen elves with bows pointed at the group cleverly hidden in the trees above them.  

The speaker, a handsome elven man with uncharacteristically broad shoulders and a distinctly non-elven blond mustache, drops to the ground and motions for the other elves to lower their bows upon hearing Xana's greeting.

"Ah.  So you're the group recruited by the Dark Mother.  Welcome to you.  I am Jackdaw, son of an elven father of Kae'Anir and a human mother of the Suel tribe."

Jackdaw and the elves hold forth blindfolds, "Before we continue, I must ask that you put these on so you cannot reveal our location once you leave us."


----------



## Kobold Stew (Nov 11, 2014)

"That's crazy! How are we going to find our way out if we haven't seen our way going in? We were just trying to help."

Lillily does not understand what the secret is, nor why she would accept being made defenceless for no good reason. There is plenty of adventure elsewhere, she thinks.


----------



## sithramir (Nov 11, 2014)

Taranis begrudgingly acquiesces knowing that while he is a drifter he is no forest expert. 

"I think the blind fold may be wasted but I will do it willingly to show our good faith" he states in elvish.  "Do not worry friends, they could have taken us had Ill will been their intent. Let us learn more so we can help our mission to bring peace to the land."


----------



## Brother Dave (Nov 11, 2014)

Bran bows deeply to Jackdaw.  "Well met, Master Jackdaw.  I am Bran Ravenwood.  My friends and I were indeed sent by your 'Dark Mother' on a mission of grave importance.  She chose us - or, as she would have it, we chose ourselves - and led us to believe that we would find trusted friends and allies here.  I pray that is so." 

He considers for a moment, then holds out his hand for the blindfold.  "I understand that you have your own people to protect, and trust must be earned.  I will wear your blindfold for now, and hope for the day that you find it unnecessary."

Bran turns to his friends.  "Come, my friends.  We have accepted the Lady at Her word, or what are we doing here at all?  And as Taranis has pointed out - if they meant us ill, they could have slain us already without warning."  With a flourish, he winds the blindfold around his head and ties it securely, then waits patiently for Jackdaw's guidance.


----------



## Kobold Stew (Nov 11, 2014)

"This is crazy! We we gathered supernaturally by one of the six wives of the leader of the elven nations. She called to us, subtly, magically, and we responded. We are heading to a Dismal Swamp, to a Temple that is a hideout for cultists or bandits". 

Lilliy has a good memory for these things.

"War is brewing between Blackmoor and the elves and Blackmoor wants to exploit the Temple's power. 

"We know there are people among the elf leaders who want the temple for themselves. How do we know which faction these archers are on? We only know they exist because they announced themselves. Had they not done so, we'd have had no idea they were there, or that we were entering their territory.

I do not know them, but I am here to help their people. If they want my help, they get my eyes. If not, they can supernaturally recruit another being to fight for their cause.

"We need to earn their trust? Hah! These creatures need to earn mine."

She squares her stance. If the elves attack, she will fight back. If all her companions accept the blindfolds, she will stay here, going only if she is unencumbered and unblidfolded. If they all are led away, she will take her equipment, and return to the port and seek a position on a ship, where this would be recognized for the foolishness it is.


----------



## fireinthedust (Nov 11, 2014)

Xana is momentarily silent, seeing the handsome elf with a moustache, overwhelmed by the reality that she's on an adventure.  Odum, her winged monkey familiar, waves his hand in front of her eyes once or twice, trying to get her to snap out of her reverie.

When Lilly challenges the elves, Xana snaps to attention.  Wait!  We don't have to fight!  Think of it this way: whether or not we trust them, we're the ones going to the Temple.  We're researching!  If we find something that, as our employer said, is too dangerous for either party (like, I don't know, some artifact that opens portals to an army of demons, or something crazy that'll blast everyone into an apocalypse or something), we are the people on hand.  And hey, what better way to sue for peace than to have some kind of working relationship with the Elves?  If this war really happens, it won't be the nobles who get killed, but the farmers and commoners caught in the middle.  On both sides.  To have peace, we need trust.  If it has to start with me, then so be it.

Xana accepts the blindfold from the elves, and says to Lilly as she puts it on,  And hey, why would they want to kill a bunch of randoms?  Way too much work for too little benefit.


----------



## Kobold Stew (Nov 11, 2014)

Lillily turns to Xana: "You're right. We don't have to fight. I don't know about motives. The elves want my help or they do not. But they do not begin a relationship by making stupid demands that they know they themselves would not accept." Lillily is surprised at the gullibility of her colleagues, but holds back from saying so. She will have to be extra cautious, as this gives her reason to doubt them too. But, under no circumstances, is she accepting a blindfold.


----------



## Shayuri (Nov 11, 2014)

Kestrel hangs back just a little, watching her companions, and most of all watching the elves. How they act will be very instructive on how she will approach the situation. Privately, she is rather grateful someone decided to take them on and force this confrontation. Her own solution to the conundrum was quieter...but this would be at the least, much more entertaining.


----------



## sithramir (Nov 11, 2014)

Taranis laughs inwardly to himself _"Ah resistance to such a simple thing as a blind-fold"_. How little it really impedes me but for some, he understands, such things can be a detriment.

_"They aren't binding our hands or taking our weapons. They are simply trying to ensure their hide-out or home isn't easily found while they guide us. It can be easily removed if danger presents itself. We will not be helpless. But as I've said we have little experience in the ways of the forest and would likely be unable to trace our way anyways."_

_"Perhaps you can take us the "long" way to ensure we cannot find your home. Would this allow us to continue? I grow tired of bumbling through the forest as it is_" he mentions to the elves in their native tongue.


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Nov 18, 2014)

_OOC: [MENTION=56746]mudbunny[/MENTION], [MENTION=36150]Herobizkit[/MENTION] are you still with us?_

The mustached half-elf smirks at the gnome and her protestations, "War is upon us, little one.  At any moment, some poor fool will draw first blood, make the first kill.  In the meantime, our base here, so close to the Blackmoor capital, must remain hidden at all costs to ensure a tactical advantage.  Its not about trust at all.  If you are captured by Blackmoor, how long would you last under interrogation?  Under magical truth spells?  Do you even care enough about the elves to give your life for us?  I doubt it."

He holds out a blindfold, "So, either accept this...or wait here for the others to return.  I'll ask two of my brethren to stay with you should you choose to wait."  To the rest of the group, he says, "We will be gone two hours at most.  We intercepted a goblin raiding party a couple of weeks ago and liberated them of their loot and their lives.  The supplies and weapons that we have no use for are yours to do with as you please.  There should be enough rations and water to get you to where you are going, I wager."


----------



## sithramir (Nov 18, 2014)

"We are glad to oblige and thank you for help on the rations. The country is in turmoil and I hope we can find a way to provide assistance."

Taranis looks around to see if he has ever met any of the elves.








*OOC:*


 Taranis is a drifter and tends to know someone in most places due to his wandering ways. He has a shattered memory but someone there may know of him. 







*OOC:*


----------



## Kobold Stew (Nov 18, 2014)

Lillily takes a decision.  She looks at the half-elf to see if he is bound in this course, our if there will be any compromising from him.

(INSIGHT 1d20+3=22.) 

She believes she knows whether or not her persistence will work. She continues for the last time regardless.

"I do not need your half brethren to watch over me. I have been summoned to your service, and I have come honestly, ready to risk my life for your cause. Elves are not petty creatures, and you know this. You understand that creatures of the fey like myself are not to be bound. I am needed or I am not -- it seems that choice is yours. Leave none of your half-brethren here. You take me now or you receive my service never."


----------



## Shayuri (Nov 20, 2014)

Kestrel decides the time is right, and glides up to stand beside Lillily.

"Trust is difficult in these times," she says quietly, "but it has to start somewhere. Surely if Arunshee saw fit to trust us with this work, so can you?"

In the end, she didn't _really_ care about the blindfolds, but if she didn't have to wear one that would make things simpler. It was worth a shot.


----------



## Kobold Stew (Nov 20, 2014)

Lillily does not understand these requests at all, since the village location can't be secret to her when she can simply ask the small animals nearby where it is. Nevertheless, she does accept the blindfold offered but he moustached half-elf, since it seems so important to these distrustful elves. 

Perhaps surprisingly, she bites her tongue and says nothing.


----------



## Shayuri (Nov 25, 2014)

Kestrel glances at Lillily in surprise, then shrugs. "Or, we can just wear the blindfolds too. That's fine."

She allows the impediment to be put on.

(OOC - Kestrel would like to sneakily adjust the blindfold or even give it a quick cut, when the elves aren't looking, so she can see out through it even if only poorly. What sort of roll would you say that'd be?)


----------



## Brother Dave (Nov 25, 2014)

Bran stands idly by waiting for the argument to resolve.  He had slipped the blindfold off when it was clear Lilily was going to make an issue of it - if it came to a fight, he did not want to be at a disadvantage.  Several times he resisted the urge to step in - what would be the point, after all?  The gnome lass would either trust the half elf or not.  How could he step in and offer reassurance, or argue in favor of her accepting the blindfold, when all he had to rely on himself was his own shaky belief - nay, hope - that the Lady would not send them all the way out here just to get them killed by her supposed allies?  It was a momentous and highly personal decision, and one he could not in good conscience attempt to influence further.

However, when Lilily finally acquiesces after much back and forth, Bran breathes a silent sigh of relief.  He had a feeling she would make a staunch ally, and is glad they will not be moving on without her.  He settles his pack and his lute firmly on his back - it would not do to distract himself and the others from the sounds around him when they would be travelling blind - then reties the blindfold over his eyes with a flourish and raises his chin.  He decides that a show of confidence is in order, both to reassure his friends and to remind the half elves that they were more than mere intruders, but rather invited guests, allies, and not to be trifled with.  He summons a bit of bravado, smiles broadly, and declares in a loud voice, "All settled?  Come then, my friends.  Adventure awaits!  Lead on, Master Jackdaw."


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Dec 8, 2014)

Alara and Samara refuse the blindfolds and head back to the city.  _OOC: Should mudbunny and Herobizkit ever choose to return, we can bring their characters back in at any time._

The group is led further into the forest by Jackdaw and his companions.  At one point there is an odd sensation of vertigo and Lillily and Taranis feel something speak to their partially fey natures ever so briefly and realize that the feeling was a planar shift of some sort.  Bran feels something different - a racial memory of his draconic ancestors - the elves know the magics the humans used in the first war against the dragons in a time before not only the Shattering, but before the world was closed off to magic, many thousands of years ago.  Xana feels wrenched and pulled, pain nearly overwhelming her - but not a physical pain, one of the spirit; when it clears she realizes that Odum is gone, left behind as if not welcome in whatever this new place is.  

When the blindfolds are removed, their eyes are greeted to not just a scouting encampment but a full army camp - thousands of elven soldiers, winged beasts of various sorts (pegasi, hippogriffs, and the occasional griffon), blacksmiths, bowyers, camp cooks, and everything else one would expect for a full invasion force.  

The terrain here is vastly different, more colorful, with an ephemeral quality that could only be called magical - this is another plane of existence - Taranis knows this place as a pocket of the fey realm, isolated from the rest of the plane by elven magics.  His memories are clear here - he remembers everything about his past, but also knows that those memories will become indistinct once more if he returns to the material world.  

Jackdaw appears uncomfortable here, as if this place reminds him of something he'd rather forget.  His smile seems forced as he welcomes the group, "As you can see, Blackmoor is going to have quite the fight on their hands when this war gets started.  I and a few others are still hoping it won't come to that, but, that hope wanes with each passing day.  Now, about those supplies."

He points to the edge of the army camp where a large wagon rests, guarded by a pair of elven warriors.  The wagon is obviously that of a wealthy Blackmoor merchant, part of a caravan most likely.  Jackdaw continues, "In addition to whatever you can find of use from the wagon, I might be able to convince our weapon and armor smiths to part with some of their surplus, though it would help if I had something to offer them in exchange."


----------



## Kobold Stew (Dec 9, 2014)

Lillily is tired of being toyed with. 

"Perhaps now that you have literally kidnapped us to another plane, you will explain what it is we are to do. We were summoned to help here. You have asked us to trust you, which we did. You have given us no indication of what possible use we might be when you have these resources. And now you offer us petty objects? 

Ugh. 

Tell us what you would have with us, or kill us, or let us go. But stop drawing us further in when you clearly have much more resources at your disposal than you need for whatever task or errand it is that you would send us on."


----------



## Shayuri (Dec 9, 2014)

"Hardly kidnapped," Kestrel points out mildly as she goes over to the cart to take a look at its contents. "We came here of our own will. They have work for us, and I wouldn't mind seeing what they can offer to help us along in that regard. Lets hear them out at least."


----------



## sithramir (Dec 9, 2014)

Taranis smiles as the warmth of memories returns to him in this place. A tear falls down go cheek as the weight of them return and the knowledge that they will leave as quickly after this brief encounter.

"My apologies for our groups lack of restraint. We were all called to help in our own ways for this but we have been traveling through the forests and are more agitated at not knowing how we fit into this puzzle and weary from travel. We thank you for any supplies and appreciate pointing us to whomever we need to converse with."
[roll0]


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Dec 16, 2014)

_OOC: [MENTION=80003]Brother Dave[/MENTION] and [MENTION=51930]fireinthedust[/MENTION], are you still with us?_

Jackdaw sighs heavily, "I don't know what we've done to create such distrust, dear gnome.  Unless your loyalties lie firmly with Blackmoor?  Regardless, to answer your questions, it is Araushnee's wish that the Temple of the Frog not fall into the hands of Blackmoor or certain among our own people who would use its resources for conquest.  Yes, the army you see before you is well provisioned, but we cannot spare troops or magics for this task."  He lowers his voice, "Because Araushnee is not certain who she can truly trust among our own people, which, in itself, is a great sorrow.  Why do you think it is I, a lowly half-breed, that has brought you here?"  

Jackdaw nods at Taranis' words, "I apologize for our seeming lack of manners.  The tension of impending battle weighs heavily on our shoulders."

Kestrel finds the wagon to be a well-stocked arms and provisions shipment, obviously attacked by goblins judging by the damage to the wagon, and then later "liberated"  by the elves.

The wagon's contents include...

15 suits of leather armor, all of which could be easily adjusted to fit anyone in the party except, unfortunately, the gnome.
2 suits of chain mail, both of which are sized to fit an average human.
15 shields.
15 daggers.
10 handaxes.
10 light crossbows and 100 full cases of 20 bolts each.
15 longswords.
2 heavy crossbows.
150 days worth of rations.
5 barrels of water (enough to last 10 days for 15 troops).
15 backpacks.
15 bedrolls.
15 blankets.
100 candles.
15 healer's kits.
5 hooded lanterns.
15 mess kits.
20 flasks of oil.
2 potions of healing.
8 tents.
15 tinderboxes.
100 torches.
15 waterskins (empty).
1 dragonchess set.
3 three-dragon ante card sets.

In addition, the wagon itself is adorned with a symbol of one of blackmoor's more prominent nobles, Acererak.

_OOC: Anyone with proficiency in Arcana or History may make an Intelligence check using one of those skills to determine what they know about Acererak._


----------



## Brother Dave (Dec 16, 2014)

Bran turns in a full circle, gleefully drinking in every detail of this place and making mental notes for what he has decided will be an epic saga.  He also carefully watches several of the denizens, noting facial features, clothing, mannerisms, and especially voices, filing them away for possible use later as a new persona, or perhaps impersonation of a specific individual should the need arise.  All the while, though, his mind keeps circling back to the almost primal feelings he experienced when he came through what must have been a gate to another realm.  

When presented with the wagons, Bran picks carefully through the supplies.  Not knowing the length of their impending journey, he opts to take two extra waterskins, three bolt cases (60 bolts), a matched pair of daggers, an extra blanket, a tent, a hooded lantern, 3 flasks of oil, and a dozen candles.  He considers, then pockets one of the healing potions and a couple of healing kits as well.  _Always best to be prepared..._  He also replenishes his rations to replace those he consumed on the journey here, and fills all three of his waterskins with fresh water.  He briefly considers trying on one of the suits of leather armor, then dismisses it.  _I think it would hinder my movements too much.  Besides,_ he thinks with a secret smile, _my...scales...will protect me as well or better than any leather.  And I can always call up my shield._

He finds a quiet, unoccupied corner, then sits down and carefully repacks his backpack, rolling the blanket up inside the bedroll and securely tying it and the tent to the bottom of his pack.  He also ties the lantern securely to the outside of the pack alongside the coil of rope.  He stands up and dons the pack to test the weight, adjusting straps until the fit is comfortable, then goes back to rejoin the others.  "How long do we want to stay here?  I wouldn't mind resting for a short while, but I think we should get moving soon.  Oh - I spotted a pair of healing draughts in the wagon.  I grabbed one of them in case anyone is injured badly enough on our quest to need more than a few bandages.  Someone else should take the other one."


----------



## Kobold Stew (Dec 17, 2014)

Lillily gives up, and pays no attention to Jackdaw. She wanders over to the cart, and role her eyes when she sees what's there. 

She grabs two weeks of rations, and two water skins, which she fills. A bedroll, a blanket, a healer's kit, a healing potion, a mess kit. 

In spite of these elves, she has undertaken this task, and she will stick to it. Or not, if they continue to be so petty. 

"When can we leave this place, and start?" she asks of no one in particular.


----------



## Shayuri (Dec 20, 2014)

Kestrel eyes the goods with the practiced eye of someone who knows how to judge weight and bulk versus price something can fetch. Weapons...armor...useless to her. Food, check...she didn't fancy having to forage around in the wild. Summore oil, yep. A few odds and ends like one of those 'mess kits' and a tinderbox. You didn't usually have to worry about stuff like that in a city, but out in the middle of nowhere there was no denying how handy they'd be for someone who's skillset didn't include 'conjuring flame' or 'telekinesis.'

Oh yes, and the other healing potion of course. That was gold in a bottle, right there.

She throws it all in her pack and cinches the thong tightly.

"I'm good to go," she said.

(OOC - Taking: 5 days rations
mess kit
2 flasks of oil
Tinderbox
Healing potion)


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Dec 30, 2014)

After the group picks through the wagon, Jackdaw replies to Lillily, "Whenever you are ready.  The magic we used to get here will deposit you back in the forest, about five miles south of the city.  From there, head further south and you should reach the Great Swamp of Mil in about a week.  I recommend taking more provisions than you think you'll need.  Rumor has it that not many who enter the swamp leave it."


----------



## KirayaTiDrekan (Jan 6, 2015)

*OOC:*


Bump.  Anyone else here?


----------



## Kobold Stew (Jan 6, 2015)

*OOC:*


Yup. Ready and waiting.


----------



## Shayuri (Jan 9, 2015)

Kestrel scowls at that, but burdens herself with a few more days of rations, just in case. The weight is unwelcome, but it's a damn sight better than starving would be.

(adding 5 more days of rations...and this is my way of saying I'm still here, yep )


----------

