After the healing of Father Kavken, and after the breakfast Svetlana comes up to Agerron, while Tyr is speaking with Oleg: "Let me assure you that I am sorry for your loss of companions. I'll have Oleg write up a warning, even though most know it's a hard life down south in the woods.
Or anywhere in these unclaimed lands...
That's the good thing civilization will bring to this stretch of land: safety.
I know Oleg doesn't like the idea of more people coming here, but I think it's good to have more people around...
Anyway: That human, Tyr, seems to join you?
And this Stag Lord, if he exists, probably knows about you by now... You think he will sends some retaliation?"
new PC's: 5 players (me incl.) -> 2 x "Yes", 3 x "No vote / No".
Plan for the day: 1x "Stay in", 1x "Explore hex". Majet? Tyr?
Tyr settles on just stowing the battle axe upon the saddle of which ever horse will be 'his' when the group rides out. The two hand axes are placed upon his belt. He spends a good part of the day making sure his mail is fit, clean and ready to wear. Come the afternoon he wanders about and mixes with people.
We're staying till the big guy is on his feet, right?
sounds like it., which suits me well, as it easily intoduces the two new players.
Whiskeyjack is ready to post, but I'm torn between the two elven wizards. Only one of them gets a spot, and I'd like to know which one you would prefer to have in the group. It's your game as well as mine, after all
Later that same day, a dwarf came huffing up to you. His bloodshot eyes and bulbous nose speak of years of alcohol use - abuse, even! His red hair was pulled back in a que, and his beard was divided into several braids. Despite his haggard appearance, his armor was well maintained. The shield practically gleamed, it's symbol of Torag taking up most of the face.
He grinned at you, showing a few rotted teeth, and said "By Torag's hairy sack, it be warm out there. Ye wouldnae happen t' have somethin' t' wet me whistle, would ye? Rode in from Rostev, an' I ain't afeard t' tell ye me arse is sore. Got a big bag o' gold fer a Tyr somebody or other, and his friends, an' a new charter fer ye."
Kesten Garess, head of the local division of Guardsmen (4 persons, if you count Kesten as well) greets you and brings you quickly to the men (and gnome) you search.
The charter the dwarf hands over reads as follows, once the seal on the parchment is broken:
Spoiler:
Be it so known that the bearer of this charter has been charged by the Swordlords of Restov, acting upon the greater good and authority vested within them by the office of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, to bring the enemy of the Regent known as "Stag Lord" before the Swordlords, be he dead or alive.
If no body or other proof of his demise can be brought forth, an agent of the Swordlords shall arrive in the area shortly to confirm the banditry has been addressed.
So witnessed on this 10th day of Pharast, under the watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne.
At hearing his name called Tyr responds promptly, coming forwards to greet whom ever it is who's seeking him out.
Upon the reading of this new document Tyr passes it along to whom ever wishes to read it next though he keeps any thoughts he might have to himself for now. He looks to the Dwarf.
"Hale and well met. Tyr Thordinsjon." And he extends a hand in greeting.
Later that same day, a dwarf came huffing up to you. His bloodshot eyes and bulbous nose speak of years of alcohol use - abuse, even! His red hair was pulled back in a que, and his beard was divided into several braids. Despite his haggard appearance, his armor was well maintained. The shield practically gleamed, it's symbol of Torag taking up most of the face.
He grinned at you, showing a few rotted teeth, and said "By Torag's hairy sack, it be warm out there. Ye wouldnae happen t' have somethin' t' wet me whistle, would ye? Rode in from Rostev, an' I ain't afeard t' tell ye me arse is sore. Got a big bag o' gold fer a Tyr somebody or other, and his friends, an' a new charter fer ye."
Agerron approaches, attracted by the new arrival and colorful expressions. "By the gods, did they make a shorter version of Big Ern? Are you related by some divine joke?"
He offers his hand and a smile. "Agerron, of Numeria. Good to meet you."
Big Ern comes strolling out of his bedchamber, yawning, scratching his balls and wearing naught but a pair of shockingly stained shorts and his muddy boots.
"I'm hungry. Is anybody else hungry? Where's the damn food at?" he bellows, and then he notices the dwarf in conversation with his comrades.
He sticks out his huge hand in greeting. "How's it hangin', Beardo? Big Ern Krakenov's my name; I'm sure you've heard of me. What brings you to these parts?"
Haven't mentioned it before:
The gold (600gp) the dwarf hands over has a note attached:
"To ye noble men that rendered a service to the populace, in taking care of the immediate threat of bandits in the Stolen Lands. Reports of you defeating the bandits at Thorn River have been duly noted."
Whiskeyjack looked up a Big Ern, and took in the giant man's appearance. He grinned his rotten-toothed grin and took the proffered hand. " Low an' t' th' left as usual, longshanks! 'Course I heard o' ye! These fools won't stop yammerin' about ye. Ye get in a fight ye couldnae win withou' me? Looks like ye messed yer britches. No wonder them popinjays in Rostev sent me. "
"Well, if no one's gonna be offerin' me a dram, how about I offer one t' ye?". Whiskeyjack unhooked a flask from his belt, took a healthy few swigs and held it out to Big Ern. The smell of whiskey wafted in the air.
A reminder, as it hasn't been brought up yet: Big Ern's visibly sick. Red spots cover his body top to bottom.
He's in a way better shape than the days before, but still affected.
Which brings me to the diseases Fort Save for the day (and any heal checks to help him).
Reaching out to hand the big man the flask, Whiskeyjack spotted the boils and spots on the man. He squinted at he spots, recognizing them as a defensive allergy or disease reaction. "C'mere an' let me look at them spots. Wha' ye been in? Ye look like a spotted mole rat in summer heat. ". Whiskeyjack looked at the man with his healer's eye
"Hey -- you like a stiff drink and you're a medical man? I like you, Beardo. You're a man after my own heart. Let me give you a taste of Krakenov's Own Private Reserve the next time I whip up a batch."
Fort save (incl. +4 bonus from heal check): 1d20 + 6 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 6 + 4 = 27
"Tha's Red Ache, tha' is! What've you been playin' with? Feelin' a might puny? A couple o' days and we'll have you right as rain." Whiskeyjack grabbed Big Ern's arms and released a trickle of divine power into the big man, enough to bring back some of the giant's strength, but not enough to cure him. Only time and a little help from some of Whiskeyjack's medicine would do that.
A commotion can be heard at the entrance to the fort with raised voices that can be recognized as the guards on duty.
"I tell you I'm not a bandit! I'm just a traveller looking for information about the area."
At the gates two guards are seen confronting a fair looking man dressed in travellers clothes and a dark cap style bandana covering below his ears. On his back is a large travelling pack and several quivers hang from it and his belt.
"Right as rain...yeah, I heard that one before. I'll believe it when I'm back chopping those damn bandits into a fine paste again."
"But not kobolds. That would be wrong to chop them, for some reason I still don't get ... sorry, still get annoyed at that one. You'll be up and around before you know it."
At the commotion at the front gate, Agerron turns and looks. "Yet another traveler come to horn in on our charter?"
"But not kobolds. That would be wrong to chop them, for some reason I still don't get ... sorry, still get annoyed at that one. You'll be up and around before you know it."
"You know, maybe it's worthwhile to go back some time and 'liberate' those kobolds from their pesky gold mine." Big Ern gives him a big wink.
Tyr raises an eyebrow at the comment of 'Not chopping Kobolds'.....But waits and bides his time until some one explains more. (Even assuming Tyr over hears said conversation)
Hearing the commotion at the gates Tyr walks over to have a look at what's going on.
"I tell you I'm not a bandit! I'm just a traveller looking for information about the area."
At the gates two guards are seen confronting a fair looking man dressed in travellers clothes and a dark cap style bandana covering below his ears. On his back is a large travelling pack and several quivers hang from it and his belt.
"Well, here's some information: this area doesn't like bandits. And you just reek like one..."
The guard at the gate to Olegs was about to push the traveller away, when Tyr comes out...
Tyr walks up and looks at the altercation between the gate guards and this new comer. He stands casually, feet apart and arms crossed looking at this 'Maybe not bandit'.
"So traveler, where is it you do hale from?" Tyr asks simply.
"Well, there are two reasons I'm here. I heard that there was an ancient shrine to Erastil somewhere in this area and have been looking for it. Second, I heard about the swordlord's sending an expedition down here to make it safe for people to colonize and thought I could help.
Whiskeyjack followed Tyr out to check out the "bandit", hand going to his warhammer. When he saw the elf, he checked his first impulse. "'Ere now! Ain't no call t' be badmouthin' bandits like that. This 'uns jest an elf, and bead enough tha' be! Answer th' man's questions, elf."
"He's got the antlers, the symbol of that Stag Lord round his neck! He sure is a bandit!" the guard adds, before his commander Kesten Garess appears, together with Father Kavken and Oleg.
The cleric sure enough recognizes the holy symbol of Erastil to not be the one the Stag Lord uses, though they are similar: "Let him be.
He, like me, ith a follower of Old Deadeye. He'll be a good man."
Whiskeyjack nodded to Nero and pointedly turned away. The elf wasn't a bandit, that was clear enough, but he was an elf. Turning back inside he called out to Big Ern "Ye be sayin' somethin' about a gold mine? Here now, tha' sounds a might bit interestin'. What are we supposed to be doin', anyways?"
"Sorry bout that there lad. Those symbols really look alike. Glad we didn't draw steel when we saw you, that would have been awkward.
No hard feelings, eh?" the guard speaks, a bit sheepishly offering an apology.
looking to the guard. "Nope, I'm used to it. Your just doing your job trying to protect these people."
"Well Tyr, after all that I could use a drink. Whattya say I buy you a drink and you tell me what's been going on here? Oh, and where I can stable my horse?"
Tyr actually takes the reigns and lads Nero's horse to the stables (Um..Oleg's has a stable, right?) Going so far as to remove the saddle, blankets etc and start currying the beast down. As he works he talks,
(Actually, not sure just how much Tyr knows of what is happening, since he's kind of a new comer like Nero)
He explains about the bandits, their attacks and any other such things. As for drinking? Tyr points Nero in the direction of (I hope I have the right name) Nell and her still. Though Tyr remains silent about he potency of said liqueur.
You've probably heard most of it from one of the hunters or Svetlana or someone.
But I don't know who Nell should be.
Oleg has some bottles of more or less potent stuff available.
