The travellers walked, staggered along the thin, paved road. It was one of many roads that led to Winchester, where the King was holding his royal court. It was certainly a strange choice of road, for there were many others that led in the same direction that were larger and well-traveled, but bandits were not the concern today.
The conflict between the "Righteous King" and his usurper has simmered for quite a while, and the end is not in sight. Most tried to avoid the larger roads when possible, because they were the logical choice for transporting large armies. This was simply such a winding and thin road that no military leader in their right mind would move soldiers this way.
And of course, there was fear of the witches. Rumors abounded that they had nearly overtaken Scotland with their black magic and now, they were filtering over the border into green and pleasant England. Most sightings occured in a fairly predictable way. First, the wind begins to howl and the clouds move in, pouring water and firing thunder. And then a fog rolls in, and any survivors have already found shelter indoors by this point.
Then the rain begins fall and the wind begins to howl. Thunder and lightning seem to rend open the sky itself. On the road behind the travellers, a fog seems to be rolling in. Up ahead, they see the house of a Verderer, one of the king's forest wardens in charge of communal hunting grounds. The travellers rush ahead towards it, not wanting to find out what happens to the people that are still outdoors when the fog begins to roll in.
Braiden quickly turns around to talk to the mounted figure, eyeing him as he exclaims, "But the witches! Those harbingers of doom are upon us! Swiftly, we must get to the shelter!" He resumes his scurrying anew, occasionally looking backward towards the mist with a panicked expression upon his face. The cruel images visited upon him nightly come fresh to the front of his mind, and he can do nothing except run in terror from the thick bank of mist threatening to envelop him.
The rain pattered off Dougal's hood as the large man plodded forward, his walking staff leaving divots in the muddy road. "Well, if it isn't witches, then getting ourselves all covered in mud's a waste. And if it is witches, then a little door's not going to be much use, so there's still no use getting ourselves covered in mud. So I can't see no reason to go running about." He flexed a hand and his knuckles cracked like a series of snapping planks. "Sides, I never run into nothing that didn't fall over if I hit it right. Can't see how a witch'd be any different."
"Darn witches."
He then looks to Dougal
"Fighting them is one thing, fighting them out on open ground is another. They wont even bother to get close to us. If they come inside that building where we can engage them in close combat we have a better chance."
With that said Rashun hurries to the building, and notices his traveling partner has left his sight, but the package must be delivered.
"May the gods be with him".
Dougal's face loses its smile for a moment. "Aye, you'll be safe as a turtle in his shell if you're ready to scrap with anyone you meet. Won't make many friends that way, though." His grin returns as he picks up his pace. "Come now, we'll have no spot by the fire if we linger too long. If we're in luck there may even be a hot meal to be had."
Even before the travellers make it to the door, it opens, revealing the one of the King's verderers. His dark brown eyes match his leather tunic, and he has a longbow slung across his shoulders. The overall get-up is quite intimidating, except for a puffy brown beard that made his look reminicent of Santa Claus.
As he whisks you inside, the warm scent of swan stew, mixed berries, and a porridge made out of rich grains invites you in. The Verderer's wife shouts from the small kitchen in the adjacent room in a sing-song voice. Take a seat, dears!
The wife enters the room; her plump figure and rosy cheeks make her seem very motherly. She brings out several blankets and removes some hot stones from the fireplace, wrapping them inside the blankets. Here, hold these. They'll warm you up while supper is cooking. Were there any more travellers behind you? I might have to make some more food!
Dougal happily puts aside his wet cloak and seats himself in the sturdiest looking chair. "There was a few, matron. I think they'll all be knocking on your door soon. It's a wicked storm out there, enough to make men afraid of dark powers on the hunt." He winks at Braiden and settles the hot blanket more comfortably.
Braiden takes the warming stone and puts it on his lap as he sits down, gladly accepting the warmth it provides. He says to the wife, "Oh, I'm so glad there is a house here. Who knows what might have become of us if they'd caught us first!"
At Dougal's comments, Braiden becomes more dour, saying, "Jest if you might, but it matters not. Nothing you can do will change what those damned witches are bringing!" He pounds the table once with his fist for emphasis. As you sit with him, the wonderful smell of the food is paired with his own odour (not unlike the odour of a wet dog) to horrible effect. A pool is forming underneath him on the floor, as he had no cloak to shield him from the rain.
The wife heads to the kitchen to stir the stew. My husband has been counting how many times the fog has rolled in, and we can see them nearly once or twice a week now. I'm surprised that we have any travellers at all.
Her voice drops in pitch and volume, and she looks somewhat glum.
Why are you out here in such dangerous times? Even the prepared risk a lot. My husband's friend, a Verderer in Cornwall mysteriously disappeared on the job during a foggy day, and everyone suspects the witches. That's even further south from here, so who knows how dangerous it is here? My husband doesn't like to talk about it much, but it's important to let travellers know.
Accepting the hospitality with a wide grin, Tobar waxes lyrical "My thanks to both you and your shining light" gesturing towards the Verderer and his wife "The sky outside has taken a dark turn and we are humbled by your hospitality."
With the smell of stew on the air, Tobar takes the blanket and smooths it over the stone offering an impish wink "Such a gift is worthy of praise dear matron, are you sure that the lord did not choose to curse the sky so that we might bask in the radiance of your countenance?"
As the others talk of ill tidings and portents most foul Tobar cannot help but smile and sink into his chair. But a week before I was in chains with a rat my only bedfellow. Fickle winds blow foul and fair in equal measure. Those who look would see a genuine look of pleasure upon his face.
"There's a delivery I'm to make to the King's court. A lot of folks don't think the roads are safe no more, so they tasked me with making sure it gets where it's going." Dougal chuckles again, a deep resonant sound. "I think I maybe met a couple highwaymen on my trip. They tipped their hats to me and kept walking."
It's rare to see a soul so happy in such gloomy times.
The plump woman returns with a platter of fine, white bread, some freshly caught fish, and small pieces of salted game. For those of you unused to the fine things of life, the bread is quite the shock, ordinarily being reserved for the families of wealthy merchants and the nobility. A bread trencher is placed in front of each of you.
Please save some food for the latecomers. If they arrive at all, they must have run for quite a distance to make it, and they'll need all the energy that they can get.
Braiden helps himself to the fine food put before him, offering a short thanks before stuffing his face. It is plain from his attire and demeanor that he isn't used to food such as this, and he nearly chokes from eating it too fast.
When he decides to take a short break, Braiden sits up in his chair and squints at the wife, "My thanks for the meal and hospitality. Such things are a blessing in times as dark as these." He doesn't crack a smile, though his appreciation is earnest. He looks almost pitiably to Tobar. Surely he wouldn't be so cheerful if he knew what was to come. If he had seen what Braiden saw... He shakes his head visibly before digging back into the food, trying to get his mind somewhere else.
Not bothering to knock, Gyle enters the common room and scans the sodden lot already relaxing within. Brushing the road grit from his clothes, he finds a seat as far from the rest as he can and takes his left boot off to fish out a rock.
"Damn thing's been with me for the last mile. Felt like a mountain was stowed away at my heel." he says to no one in particular. With that he slumps back and observes the rest of the gathering crowd.
"Thanks for the food. I can offer a few coins along with my thanks if that is needed. As to why I am on the road, I can only say it is important.", he says to the verderer and his wife.
To everyone, "Forgive my manners. My name is Rashun. When we were on the road I did not have the chance to introduce myself."
Please, have some food. If you don't, I might think that fresh fish and salted game is not good enough for you! The Verderer's wife chuckles and places some food in front of Gyle.
In the presence of good company and food, the fog seems to lift and the night sky appears. However, it is nearly pitch black, not usual for this time of the year. The Verderer returns from his post by the window. This is certainly not a good omen. Even if you wanted to, it is not safe to travel onwards tonight, especially without the light of the stars and the moon. We have straw beds if you'd like to stay for the night.
Tobar disdains the meat for slabs of bread lathered in butter. After each few bites, a hand dislodges the tenacious crumbs that end up lodged in his short beard.
At the Verderer's offer "That is most kind my good man, is there anything that I may offer to repay your kindness?.. a tale, a song, or" eyes twinkling mischievously "a ribald tale or two?"
Braiden seems to be less crazed at the moment, now that he's had a hearty meal and feels that he is safe. He replies to the Verderer, "Thanks for your offer, sir. Though, ah," He gives a small chuckle, the first sign of pleasant emotion from him yet, "I think that the darkness wouldn't make much a difference in my case." He points at his eyes, milky white as a blind man's. "That's not to mean I'd travel while witches are about, though."
He looks over to Dougal, squinting toward him as he says, "I suppose the dark should be good enough to keep this one from running off an' getting himself killed, though. Lucky you, eh?" His facial expression seems to be a mix between sympathy and condescension. He coughs roughly before he gets a reply, though he straightens himself back up to meet Dougal's eyes.
"Dougal Chalk's the name. Always good to share a meal with friends, even be they friends for a single night." He digs into his meal with evident delight. "Ribald tales are best with pretty lasses to get ideas from them. There's but one lady here, and she's spoken for." At Braiden's dig he chortles and replies, "A nighttime storm is trouble enough to make anyone seek shelter. Even if the northern witches are abroad, they'll need to be roosting for the night too."
Speaking of roosting, unfortunately, there are only straw mats for sleeping on, says the Verderer as he rolls the table off to the side of the room and his wife brings the leftovers into the kitchen, covering them with a cloth to keep the insects off. I'll stay up to watch for any late arrivals.
When you arrive, the Verderer looks through the peephole in the door and lets you in. On the floor, there are several people in varying stages of sleep. A large plump woman, presumbly the Verderer's wife, guides you to the kitchen, where she serves leftover stew, salted fish, and fine white bread. In hushed tones, the Verderer says, It's a miracle that you weren't killed out there. Now get some sleep.
The theme of mist runs through your dreams.
Speaking of roosting, unfortunately, there are only straw mats for sleeping on, says the Verderer as he rolls the table off to the side of the room and his wife brings the leftovers into the kitchen, covering them with a cloth to keep the insects off. I'll stay up to watch for any late arrivals.
** spoiler omitted **
The theme of mist runs through your dreams.
In a low voice to the Verderer. "Nothing out there but the night, the fog, and old father Owl. But I thank you for the food. It was a long day in the saddle. My horse is in the lean to out back. The night will do her no harm. This is fine bread. I hope we are not a burden..."
Hywel sleeps well. He dreams of the valleys of home. Standing on the shore and watching a cool mist roll in from the familiar sea.
Morning comes around six o'clock, when the Verderer leaves his room and enters the dining hall where the guests have been sleeping. He's already dressed in his leather clothing and has his ever-present longbow strung and slung on his shoulder. His plump wife scurries out after him, rushing around the kitchen and stuffing food into little sacks, one for each of you. She heads into the dining room after her husband and hits everyone that isn't awake with them.
The Verderer begins to lace up his boots to head out the door. The work of a Verderer never ends, and I have to go and check the outposts to see if they are still intact after last night's storms. That means it's time to head out.
The wife smiles in a strange way, almost like a parent forcing their child out of the house to go to college. I've saved some bread for each of you, darlings. And I've given you a little thing that might come in handy. Also, I need you to give this letter to the king. Just follow the road all the way to Winchester. It should only take until mid-afternoon. Stay safe now!
One by one, the guests are nearly shoved out the door and onto the road, to begin their trek anew. After a while, the group arrives at the outskirts of Hampshire, well known as a prosperous market town. Today is Sunday and ordinarily, there would be many people travelling here from the outskirts to trade, but it seems rather deserted. An uneasy air hangs over the town. The river that runs through the town, typically bustling with rafts, similarly lies deserted. The road (and the only bridge in the local area) passes through the town, but it's possible to try and ford the river upstream or travel through the forest downstream to cross the river at Elmbridge, over the namesake bridge.
Awakened by a bag of food used as a bludgeon, Tobar stretches then arises as though Lazarus. He thanks the good Verderer and wife for their hospitality as they eat and then take their leave.
Sense Motive:
Upon the road, Tobar once more ensures that he neither leads nor follows at the back. The lack of people upon the road is something he finds confusing... but not overly so, assuming they merely are slow to rise.
Braiden has a terrible night, as usual, staying up for most of it and screaming his way out of rest when he does shut his eyes for an hour. However, the lack of decent sleep is nothing new to him, and he's up waiting for everyone else in the morning.
As he's being shoved out the door, he gives another thank you and a solemn farewell before heading off with the group.
When they arrive at Hampshire around mid-afternoon, Braiden finds it very odd that no one is around. His mind forms devious connections between the mist and this, but he shuns the thoughts and says, "Well, 'ts awful quiet today." He'll continue into town as long as the others are.
With his sack slung over one shoulder, Gyle eyes the quite town with a cautious curiousity.
"Mighten be the folk have all left." Gyle eyes his road mates with a dark humor and crooked smile. "Fled in fear of Braiden's howling last night."
Gyle walks to the nearest building and peers inside, looking for residents or a clue to the nature of their absence.
Dougal looks disturbed by the unnatural silence of the town. "This ain't right at all. Sunday's market day. Should be people, and traders, and all sorts making a ruckus. Even if some tall hat came through and folks are all at church for prayers we'd heard them singing." His eyes stray to Braiden and his fist tightens around his staff. "I ain't saying it's witches, and I ain't saying it's not. Could be bandits, or plague, or some forest monster come through. But it's certain there's some trouble here." He gulps nervously. "Only right thing to do is go see if we can help anyone, I fear."
Happy to be on his way Rashun thanks the hosts once again. Upon arriving at the town Rashun notices the quiet, and does not like it.
"I say we take a look around. Maybe someone knows something. Even if we can't help maybe the king can send someone this way who can. I have a strong feeling we won't find anything we want to find."
Gyle sees no one inside and everything seems relatively undisturbed. As he turns around, the parties sees a couple approach them. They seem dirty, smelley, and mindless. Their stare seems to be directed at something far off in the distance and visible fungus caps are visible growing on their clothing.
Perception checks bitte:
Now that you look closer, there seems to be plants growing directly from their body. What kind of witchery is this?
Okay, so this will be our combat tutorial. Basically, here's the format I'd like you to do it in.
Initiative: (If it's the first round)
Round 1
Jen tries to teach the party about combat
Rolls:
Rolls:
Round 2
If Jen succeeds in teaching the party, she continues with the combat. If not, she tries again.
Rolls:
Rolls:
So the issue with PbP combat is that it's often extremely slow, so for the combats that aren't too challenging, I'd like you to write a two-round plan for yourself with like "if this, then this. Or if it fails, then this." It is hard at the start, but it works really well.
I will try to figure out how to use maptools for combat map, but for this round, I will just describe the scene.
You're in an open market square. These people are about fifty feet from you.
Initiative:
Perception:
Round 1:
Eyes narrowing as he spies the 'people' approaching as he makes the sign of the cross and points at the couple with his hand curled to the sign of the horns "Ware them, there is some kind of pox upon them" before drawing his sword.
Round 2:
Remaining wary, Tobar quickly scans for further enemies before keeping close to his companions - without closing with the 'people'.
Gyle arms himself with one of his daggers and looks warily from his companions to the couple.
Round 1 Gyle will fight defensively while trying to ascertain any details from the couple's appearance or mannerisms.
Round 2 If party is attacked, Gyle will attempt to flank for a sneak attack. If Gyle is attacked, he will fight back.
Attack (dagger) (1d20+3=16)
Damage (dagger) and sneak attack damage (if applicable) (1d4+1=2, 1d8=3)
Round 1:
Braiden can't see what's going on, though he senses the instant uneasiness of the others. After Tobar's comment, Braiden will say, "What, where are they?" as he turns to where everyone is generally facing. He squints, though he can see no people.
Round 2:
If Braiden can see the people, and they appear hostile, he'll try to use his Gift of Madness revelation to cause 1 to be confused for 1 round (DC 13 Fort negates). If they don't appear hostile, he'll simply try communicating, saying, "You look horrible, what's wrong?" If he can't see them, he'll continue his total defense.
Init:
Round 1
Trying to speak before fighting:
"Hello, may I ask what your purpose is here?"
diplomacy:
If they don't respond then draw the morningstar as my standard action.
Round 2
Charge(assuming I have a clear path) the nearest one if they don't respond at all or do respond in a hostile manner.
Attack:
Damage:
If they do respond then let someone else take over the communication.