Thanks for the invite and while I play Volkar over in RoR, here I could play a storm druid male human or could look at one of the other races that have intrigued me.
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Welcome to Phaendar, a small town nestled along the southern bank of the Marideth River, a stone’s throw from the Southern Fangwood Forest. Trade comes through the town over Phaendar Bridge, the only suitable place to traverse the swift, rapid-coursed river for 50 miles in either direction. The town of 400 residents rarely sees any excitement, making the Market Festival a major source of news, entertainment, and revenue. The 2-day affair, held once every 3 months, gathers farmers and herders from across the Nesmian Plains, as well as woodcutters from the nearby Fangwood and prospectors from the Hollow Hills, to trade for supplies and raw materials. Even traders from the “big city” of Tamran make their way from hundreds of miles away to the event, swelling the town’s population to half again its normal size. It is here on the first day of the Market Festival that the group meets. Whether arriving here by coincidence or having come specifically for the festival, you find yourselves traveling down the road together heading right into town.
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Karist looked about with a bit of bewilderment. He had followed along with a trader he had met a few weeks back when he had come to Tamran. His journey there had been the result of a continual need to keep moving spurred on by the worry that he had not put enough distance between him and his past. He and Mias had managed to push ever westward for many weeks. Sometimes catching passage in exchange for labor on river boats or sailing vessels. Mias found work as a mercenary for merchant vessel in need of guards. They parted as friends with a common bond - fugitives freed from an unjust accusations. Their bond had grown solid during their weeks of traveling.
He had found weavers in need of an extra set of hands. His talents and skills soon found him being picked up by merchants more willing to pay a higher short term contract. Over the many months since leaving Mias' company, he had followed along with caravans to the point to where he was constantly moving. By ship, wagon, or pack animal he had eventually found himself along the shores of Lake Encarthan. Work was plentiful making cloth, or when needed robes and intricate textiles. He had skills and those seemed to be in demand by merchants willing to buy his pieces or their clients. But, he wanted to be the one working with the buyer, designing the pattern, or the cloak or robe. He had joined up with a small group of merchants that talked about the potential of new markets in Tamran across the Lake. They needed extra hands and he had some extra stock they thought might be of interest to the more established residents. So, he sailed with them to the rebuilt town of Tamran.
He found a city that was half floating, half dangling, and rather chaotic. But, there were opportunities and he skills produced coin. Coin created opportunity and soon he had a small stall selling finer brocades and woven goods. It wasn't what he had when he was arrested and branded for consorting with infernal powers, but it was a restart. He heard that there was this big faire to the north. A couple of other merchants were planning on going and needed to have a few assistants. He decided to give it go.
It was a hall to the wooded hamlet, if you could call it that, of Phaendar. When he arrived, he was sick of his fellow caravaners. They were constantly talking about how they could swindle these country folk. Karist still remembered his country origins and wanted nothing to do with his traveling companions. He had brought a few small items - ribbons, chording, a few scarfs and a couple of premade robes in blues and greens that he could sell, provided he gave 25% to Sarcat.
Sarcat was the least frustrating of the small caravan, and had agreed not to charge Karist for his meals on their journey. He had asked Karist to slip out of the caravan before first light to find one of the better locations in the small hamlet. Karist had done so, and found himself walking along the road heading into town. He was not the only one with a mission, as others were in as much of a hurry as he was.
Well this is... interesting, Thakus thinks as he ties up the horse and drags their cart of goods-- slowly-- toward where they intend to set up shop for the festival. His mentor Bomlin waited for him, having decided on the "perfect" spot for them. When Thakus reaches him, the old dwarf goes to work pulling things from the cart and setting up.
Bomlin was a blacksmith from Tamran, and Thakus his apprentice. Bomlin always called himself "the best armorer in ten leagues any direction," though since they're currently more than ten leagues from home, Thakus wonders whether that's still true. If it ever was. So far, he hasn't asked.
While the dwarf drags his anvil from the cart-- strong as an ox, Thakus thinks, even still-- Thakus puts on a set of scale mail. It chafes a bit here and there, and doesn't move with the wearer quite as easily as one of Bomlin's might, but Thakus wears it with pride. This is one of his. Each scale was pounded with his own hammer and polished to a sheen, the better to attract potential buyers. He shoves a smith's hammer in his belt to look more like a warrior. "Arms and armor," he calls out to those around him, "arms and armor straight from Tamran!"
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Karist walked about and eventually got a place that Sarcat seemed relatively pleased about. He helped Sarcat arrange various spice chests, reward pottery, and storage containers made of clay or horn. Some works were of silver, but Sarcat had continually talked about needing to have things the trappers and their country folk could afford. Karist bit his lip, having grown up in a village about the twice the size of the one he was in.
He took his leave for a quick respite and on his way back he heard a call about arms from Tamran. He turned and followed the call to find a large half-orc wearing a coat of gleaming scale mail standing out in front of an anvil and tables.
"Arms you say, from Tamran, just came here from there myself," Karist smiled. With a wink he asked, "do you sell them by the pair, or are hey a one handed type of fare?"
He stepped toward the tables as finished his question.
The presence of a lizardman is obvious - not only is he taller than many of the locals, but people go out of their way to avoid getting too close to him. The dark green and brown scales of his hide flicker in the light-and-shadow between the various market stalls and tents, giving a ready indication of how such a predator would hunt in the woods and swamps. Though he is armed with a heavy chopping implement - like an oversized machete - and wears a drab heavy leather jerkin, he does not seem particularly concerned about being in the midst of a human settlement. Indeed, just like any other shopper, he scrutinizes fruits and trades small coins for dried fish; there's no sign of agitation, surprise, fear, or aggression. A few of the local trappers seem to know him, though nobody really goes out of their way to be "friendly."
The lizardman pauses at the armorsmith, glancing at the half-orc's armor. His face doesn't express in the same way that humans do, making it hard to read, until finally he says in a grinding, accented voice, "Metal scales?"
An anthropomorphic cat moves through the crowded market place, obviously ill at ease. Even if her tail isn't fully inflated, her dark grey and white fur is raised around her neck and down her back. She wears leather armor over rawhide breeches (With a hole cut special for her tail), and carries a long spear in one hand while a mace and small buckler hang from her belt. Her tail swishes back and forth, intentionally clearing out an area behind and to either side of her. I HATE coming into town.. to crowded.. too loud.. very much not like home.. wherever that got to over the years.. Her eyes scan over the market offerings, and she moves stall to stall looking for what she needs before moving on. An herbalist shop offers a few plants she has been unable to find for her poultices while another offers fine cloaks and such. She tries not to look too interested; her fur keeps most weather tolerable but that doesn't mean that she wishes she could spend the coin.
Moving through the crowds, she sees some new faces clustered around a new weapon smith. Its not often we get new people around here.. I wonder if the war is upsetting some of the trade routes?
She meanders over to the group, looking at the strangers closely. Finally, she steps forward and touches the half orc on his bare wrist with a gentle but insistent weight. As the half orc turns his head, he stares down into the upturned feline eyes as they seem to see right through to his soul.
The lizardman turns his head to regard the druid with one eye and cranes his neck down slightly, then says in that rasping voice, "I am a person."
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Upon hearing Thakus' sales pitch for arms and armor, an unusually large crowd gathers quickly around the stall. Locals in particular murmur amongst themselves about better prices. After a few minutes, a dwarven female with short gray hair and pale skin covered in burns shoves her way to the front of the crowd, shouting "What's this 'bout weapons an' armor!? I thought we was all fer agreein' on textiles, tools, an' food this time 'bout!"
Before anyone can answer, a voice in the crowd shouts back "No, Kining, you just demanded it be so at the last council meeting. The rest of us ignored you and continued on with business as usual."
Looking over, you see the voice belongs to a middle-aged human woman with ebony skin and short black hair. She is adorned in a green armored coat with a longsword and a longbow strapped to her back in an X formation. In her hand is a polished white quarterstaff which seems to double as a walking stick, given that her left leg has been replaced with a wooden peg leg from the thigh down. She grins at the dwarf who in turn scowls at the woman.
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"Of course, of course," Karist responded with a blush of embarrassment. He had started to extend his hand when a commotion broke out about whether weapons were to be sold. He caught site of a human sized cat with a swishing tail, leather armor and a spear. [I]What a market, people of all types,[] he thought to himself as he realized inspite of his travels he hadn't seen all that much.
"I am a person."
Thakus's pitch garners a surprising amount of interest, but it's explained somewhat when he realizes they might be the only weapons vendors at the fair. Part of him wishes they had known about this meeting that had supposedly taken place, but it's hard to feel too badly when what they didn't know gives them such a sales advantage.
I'm not the stranger, she-- He pauses mid-thought. Did the cat woman say that? I've never thought in a lady's voice before. Hi? He turns toward the other customers. "We have some pairs, sure. Take a look." He pulls some of the bladed weapons they'd brought from the wagon and lays each on a large table for display: four daggers, a spear, three handaxes, two shortswords, a longsword, a greatsword, and a greataxe which he leaned against one end. He laid out some armor on a second table: a shirt of scale mail like Thakus's own, a breastplate, and a heavy steel shield. They had one set of full plate he arranged carefully on a separate stand they'd brought for it; it had taken weeks to hammer out all the pieces just right. Bomlin was prepared to sell it, but not cheaply; Thakus expected they'd be returning with it as well, but it made for an excellent showpiece.
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Ko'Faahin maintains her touch on the mans arm.
Ko'Faahin removes her paw from the half orcs arm and begins to dig through the few coins left to her when Aubern starts to create a scene with her entrance. However, she is not too distracted to see the elfling trying to steal the dagger. She quickly reaches out and grabs the childs wrist as he makes his attempt, forcing her thoughts through his mind. That is not a good habit, child. Especially if you wish to reach adulthood with both hands still attached. What is your name?
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While the others look on at the ongoing commotion, Fo'Kaahin notices a scrawny half-elven child trying to swipe a dagger. She grabs him by the wrist with her cat-like reflexes, cause the child to cry out is surprise.
Despite his panic, the kid is able to wrench his arm free and takes off running for the forest. A few men attempt to give pursuit before immediately being called back by the ranger in green, who instructs the crowd that there is nothing to see and that they should return to enjoying the festival.
The crowd diminishes slightly, though many stay to peruse the weapons stall. At this the dwarf throws her hands up in frustration and stomps off back into town. The ranger watches her go with a slight smile and a shake of the head before turning to address you.
"Sorry about that," she says with a rather sheepish look on her face. "Aubrin's the name, though some like to call me Aubrin the Green, Caydne alone knows why. And dont' worry about Kining. She can be a bit of an ass, but she's our ass. And I'm truly sorry about your dagger. Soveliss is a good kid, but being homeless hasn't made it an easy life for him. Nevertheless, he did steal from you, and I'd like to pay for the dagger. Better yet, why don't you all meet me at the Taproot Inn tonight? Drinks are on me, and Cayden knows I could use one at this point."
Damn Ko'Faahin thinks as the urchin gets away with the dagger. She turns to the stall worker with an apologetic look and returns to her business with the man as Aubrin walks forward. She considers the request for a moment before touching the rangers wrist lightly.
Shessik watches the departing child, then says to the armorer, "Metal scales seem... curious. Strong protection, but difficult to... swim."
When the offer is made for a beverage, Shessik cocks his head at Aubrin and says, "Will the boy be safe in the woods? Human-children are often soft."
Thakus looks through the carriage, but he already knows the answer. Neither of them had expected anyone to want a sickle, and curved blades are harder than straight ones. "No, but we can make you one. It'll take the better part of the day, and we don't apologize for that-- a good blade takes longer than a bad one. First request, Bomlin!" he calls out to his mentor. "One sickle!" Thakus turns back to the customer. "You can pay for it when it's done."
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”Aye, Soveliss will probably skulk back into town in a few hours, not to worry. At any rate, see you lot tonight! If you get lost, just ask someone ‘where’s The Root at?’” says Aubrin with a smile on her face
The rest of the day proceeds as normal, with festivities and merriment all around. As night falls, you make your way to the Taproot Inn, Phaendar’s best (and only) bar. The two-story inn’s walls are made of hewn timbers stained a dark green, all capped with a pine shake roof, with a wooden stature of a rearing grizzly bear standing guard near the front door. Inside, a massive fireplace and the horns of two dozen elk make up most of the bar’s decor. The bar hosts roughly a dozen towns people, with none other than a grinning Aubrin in the center, appearing to already be a few cups in. ”Hey, glad you could make it,” she shouts as she raises her cup toward you. ”Pull up a chair and Jet will get you a drink!”
She then returns to telling her story as the owner pulls four more mugs from behind the bar. “So there I am, thinking, when will I ever be able to talk to a bear again? So before the grizzly can stand back up, I turn to it and say, ‘All I need is the honey. You can keep the bees!’” The room erupts into laughter as Aubrin finishes her winding story and takes another draught from her tankard. “But it’s fine now. All’s good. She named a cub after me. Someday I’m going to have to check in on little Ow Oh Gods That’s Too Many Bees.”
Other crowd members share their own boastful jokes and stories over the next couple of hours, though few others join in with most of the festivities continuing outside. Eventually someone tops off Aubrin’s tankard for the umpteenth time and shoves her back into the center of the room.
“All right, all right! Don’t shove,” she slurs a bit. “Okay, Cayden strike me down if this isn’t true—“ Suddenly the front door explodes into flinders. A cry of agony pierces the chaos. Aubrin lies on the floor, gasping and clutching at the blood gushing from a wound in her chest. A ballista bolt still quivers in the wall behind her. Two hobgoblins in military dress stand beyond the shattered door, blades drawn. Behind them, lit by the glow of burning homes, dozens—perhaps hundreds—of hobgoblin soldiers march the street. Phaendar burns, shouts of celebration now replaced by the panicked screams of the frightened and dying. Behind them, above the flames and humble rooftops, rises a tower of black stone.
Before anyone can react the hobgoblins move into the room and begin waving their swords at the partons, shouting in some guttural language.
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Karist had found the company at the inn enjoyable and he really enjoyed the stories of Aubrin and the others. The chaos erupted with a bolt flying through the warrior and into the wall. Two snarling, ugly soldiers rushed into the inn with their swords waiving.
Karist looked at them and quickly extended his right fist in a punching motion as he thought about striking the one across the table from him.
Ko'Faahin enjoys the company of her old friend Aubrin, and laughs just as hard as anyone else at her many dubious tales. The fact that the feline does so completely silently may unnerve a few, but nonetheless, the mirth is displayed. She turns her head for but a moment, but whips it back as the door crashes in! She jumps to her feet as her friend lay bleeding before staring in sudden rage at those who would attack such a peaceful people. She stretches out her hand towards the Hobgoblin by the door, implanting a mental compulsion on the creature!
She then draws her mace and prepares to move to defend her friend.
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karist's attack hits the hobgoblin square in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He growls in response and comes around the corner for the druid.
The hogoblin's sword finds Karist's shoulder with ease. His grin of triumph quickly turns to one of panic, though, when his partner comes up from behind and starts attacking him as it shouts something in hobgoblin.
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The slash of the blade cut deep into Karist's shoulder and parted the skin as the sword's momentum carried itself further along his arm. Karist yelled in pain. His eyes registered the flow of the blood and the brightness of the color. The sing song words he had been taught years ago came back to him and he focused on healing himself.
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Ko'Faahin grins as only a cat of prey can as she drops her mace to the floor, grabbing for her spear. She stabs over the table at the ugly brute attacking Karist.
Unfortunately, she finds it hard to get her spear around and set properly for the thrust with all of the pandemonium of the packed tavern! She takes a step backwards to keep the other one in line with her spear.
Shessik is up and out of his chair in an instant, drawing his curved chopping sword as he goes and hauling his shield into position.
After a long but productive day, Bomlin gives Thakus leave to accept the drink invite. Thakus decides to keep his polished armor on, seeing more than one person armored as well and deciding that if it makes an impression on anyone tonight, it might turn into more sales tomorrow. The hammer still in his belt, forgotten, he makes his way to the Taproot Inn.
It wasn't his first time in a tavern, but he could probably count the previous ones on one hand. The place was crowded, loud, and cheerful. Thakus accepts his drink readily, and laughs at Aubrin's tales. "You're full of dung, there's no way that happened."
Crash.
In a heartbeat, everything changes. Aubrin lies on the floor, gulping for air and bleeding out. Hobgoblins move in and bark orders in a tongue Thakus doesn't understand. Behind them, he can hear the screams of what was only a moment ago a hearty celebration. In another heartbeat, his allies take up the fight with the two hobgoblins, and weapons clash. Thakus looks around desperately for a weapon, and finds... his smith's hammer. Thank the gods I still have this. Ripping it from his belt, he charges forward-- until one of the hobgoblins turns against the other, perhaps as a result of the catwoman's chanting. Is that a spell? Not wanting to tempt fate, he swings his small hammer.
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The hobgoblin dodges Thakus' attack just before a strange look comes over his face. He looks confused for a moment as he tries to determine who is friend and who is foe. Finally Ko'Faahin's spell wears off and the hobgoblin regains his bearings. He turns to the half-orc and swings at him with his longsword.
The hobgoblin gives his counterpart the foulest of looks before returning his attention to the druid and swings again.
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Karist saw the growling warrior hesitate and then suddenly swing catching him in the ribs somewhat padded by his quilted armor. But the blow sends him realing, the air knocked out of him and the blow aggrevating what he had healed. He fell to the floor with pain giving way to darkness.
"No!" Not keen on seeing a second person die in front of him, Thakus moves to protect the fallen ally, hoping his armor is as functional as it should be, and swings desperately at the hobgoblin. If only I'd brought a real weapon...
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Now armed, Shessik moves past the cat-oracle and steps over Karist's body. He lashes out with his heavy chopping sword at the injured hobgoblin .
Ko'Faahin growls in rage as the hobgoblins rally, dropping yet another of the humans to the floor. She steps forward with her spear, ramming it between the two defenders and into the green cloaked goblinoids side. For a second, she thought she had gutted it but the damned creature turned aside at the last moment.
Shessik continues his unrelenting onslaught, turning to the other hobgoblin and lashing out with his falcata and following up by lunging forward to snap his toothy, alligator-like maw at the enemy!
Ko'Faahin watches in satisfaction as the hobgoblins drop before bending to pick up her mace. Hanging it from her belt, she rushes to Karist, emitting a golden glow as she checks on him.
She reaches Karist and lifts the druids head onto her lap as he comes around. Inside of his head, he feels a new presence as her warm paws encircle his face.
Once he is ready, Ko'Haahin will stand and then assist him to his feet. She points to Thakus and then to the door before checking on Aubrins wounds.
She looks about at the party of unlikely fighters before her, deciding quickly.
She waves Shessik over to her where she kneels and gently places a paw on his bare arm.
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Karist gasped and as his eyes fluttered he saw again the pub that he had been in. He jerked his head about and saw the hobgoblins on the floor near him. He breathed in gasps and then felt his head being lifted and his eyes focused on the catfolk holding him. He heard her voice, but she didn't speak. Her words were comforting and calming. He smiled and nodded at her.
"Thank you, I can stand. Thank you." As he raised himself off the floor, she went on to the lizard man. He stood, still a bit sore, and his head ached. His breathing calmed and he sang aloud the song he had learned years ago in Calipha's home. His fingers moved about, as his hands sweeped over his body.
He looked about and the headache faded to just a dull tension. He looked back out the doorway and into the flames beyond.
"We need to get everyone out of here, maybe a back door. Grab what we can and run into the beyond before more of them come."
Thakus wipes off his hammer-- a tool that had until recently known only newly-forged steel, now covered in blood-- on one of the hobgoblins. As he looks outside seeing the flames of burning homes and hearing the screams of natives and festival-goers alike, his thoughts immediately go to one thing.
Bomlin!
"I have to get to Bomlin!" he shouts. He stands up, shoves his hammer into his belt, and races out the door, not knowing if any of his other newfound friends are injured but hardly caring in either case. "Bomlin!" he calls out over the din.
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Shessik steps back from Karist as Ko'faahin helps him up, then says to the cat woman, "You may speak through me, but the soft skins do not always listen to what I have to say."
As Thakus goes rushing out into the carnage, he simply cocks his head to one side, then continues, "An invasion seems to be underway. The town is aflame. Perhaps they can be repelled... perhaps not. We do not know enough yet."
Ko'Faahin rises from Aubrin's side and approaches Shessik. She takes his head between her paws, then closes her eyes as her head bows forward towards his until their foreheads meet; hard scales against soft fur.
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"We know that there is at least a raiding party that is intent upon killing and burning this village." Karist paused and looked after the fleeing half-orc. "We need to slip out the back, get a sense of what is going on. Running into the center of the fire is not the best means of avoding getting burnt."
Ko'Faahin + all