Gameplay.
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As one approaches the town of Sandpoint, the footprint of civilization upon the Lost Coast grows more clear. Farmlands in the outlying moors and river valleys grow more numerous, and the blue-green waters of the Varisian Gulf bear more and more fishing vessels upon its surface. Passage over creeks and rivers is more often accomplished by wooden bridge than ford, and the Lost Coast Road itself grows wider and better-kept. Sight of Sandpoint from either approach (south or east) is kept hidden by the large upthrust limestone pavements known as the Devil’s Platter or the arc of rocky outcroppings known as Whistler’s Tors, but as the final bend in the road is rounded, Sandpoint’s smoking chimneys and bustling streets greet the traveler with open arms and the promise of warm beds, a welcome sight indeed for those who have spent the last few days alone on the Lost Coast Road.
The Rusty Dragon Inn is easy to pick out among Sandpoint's buildings, as it's ridges are crowned by the impressive (and quite rusty) iron dragon that looms on the building’s roof, doubling as a lightning rod and decoration. Even without the iconic dragon, one can easily find the inn by following the enticing scent of warm and earthly spices - cinnamon, cardamon, and clove, among others, to the food that that it's known for.
The large wooden structure is divided into two rooms. The entrance opens up into the common area, filled with a mix of small round tables and larger communal tables made of long planks of ash. A large bar attaches to the eastern wall, beside the stairs that lead to the second level. Opposite the stair side of the bar is the "Help Wanted" board that makes the inn adventurer friendly. Still pinned to the board is the wanted poster for the Hooked Horseman, with instructions to the meet the Sheriff here today for those interested.
Dot.
Nobody pays much attention to the dusty and travel-stained halfling as he wanders into the sleepy town of Sandpoint. Those who do keep their distance, noting the halfling's grubby exterior and crude gear that marks him as a primitive. As he walks along he seems little interested in the townsfolk, or even the buildings, though he does stop and genuflect when he passes the graveyard.
Rather, he seems fixated on a pair of small bones, decorated with little feathers. The bones could perhaps be the leg bones of a chicken or other small animal. Repeatedly he tosses them in the air, sometimes catching them, and other times letting them fall to the dusty street. He eyes them for a moment and picks them up again, and begins again. Those watching think that maybe it is some barbarian game.
He wanders around town, 'playing' with his bones and paying no attention to those around him, when suddenly he stops, looking down at the bones on lying on the dusty ground. He eyes them for more than a minute. Then he looks around at the buildings around him, as if seeing them for the first time. He looks up at the rusty iron dragon adorning the inn in front of him.
"Hm."
He scoops the bones up from the ground and drops them in a belt pouch. He steps up the to the door and walks inside the inn. He looks around, and breathes in deeply, taking in the scent of the local cooking. He steps up to the bar and climbs up one of the stools. He pulls out a belt pouch and dumps it on the counter, and silver coins, along with various odds and ends such as string, bones, marbles, and a few nails, roll out along the countertop.
"Food," he says, once the barkeep begins to pay attention. "And something to drink. Beer."
He turns away as the attendant wanders off to look after his order, and eyes the posters on the wall. He seems to be mouthing the words as he reads them. When he reaches the passage about the "Hooked Horseman" his eyebrows go up. He smiles.
"Aaahhhh," he says, nodding. "The path the Lady lays is not straight, but is never wrong," he says to the waitress as she brings him a plate of food and a tankard. She looks at him oddly as she scoops up a few coins and retreats into the back.
Already sitting in the bar is Lars. He sits there, his elbows resting next to an untouched mug of ale. He stares at the door impatiently, as if though by force of will alone he could make the sheriff appear. Clad as he is in his chain shirt, leather boots, traveling clothes and with his falchion, he certainly looks like an 'adventurer.' The prominent scars the run down the right side of his face do nothing to change such an impression. When the primitive looking halfling comes in, he barely gives a glance before turning his gaze back to the door as he continues waiting for the sheriff.
Atsushia was sitted to a table at the inn, her back to the fire, but not too close, and far from any source of potential wind.
Of course, she was writing on a scroll, nibbling on an apple. A book was carefully opened on the table, and sometimes she perused at it.
And of course, the halfling's fingers were dark from ink.
She looked at the newcomer, and smiled at the other halfling, briefly, before writing again.
A robed, slightly heavyset individual enters the Rusty Dragon. He pulls back his hood, revealing a middle-aged man, greying at the temples and looking worn by the years.
He's greeted by the bartender, who seems to know him already, and he wanders over to order an ale. They chat for several minutes and the man appears more relaxed.
Ale in hand, he finds a corner table and settles down, drawing a small book from inside his robe and laying it out to study. Every few minutes he glances up as though waiting for someone, and casually looking over at the two halflings and the scarred man also seated nearby.
A woman of breathtaking beauty stands near the help wanted board, one hand touching her chin and the other on her armored hip as she looks over the available work. She has mid-back length honey colored hair and sky blue eyes. Her skin is fair and without blemish, and almost perfectly symmetrical features. Her scale armor is laquered gold and green and is in good condition. A similarly colored shield is slung on her back, with a war flute hanging from her waist (a sturdy metal rod that's meant to bash as well as be played like a musical instrument).
She looks over the requests, nodding as she sees the bounty on the hooked horseman. She'll turn away from the board, walk up to the bar, and take a seat. "Good afternoon, Ameiko!" She says with a smile full of perfect teeth. "How have things been? I haven't been back to Sandpoint in a few years. Do you still have that delicious fish curry?" she asks.
Clad in finely polished armor a sturdy young man enters the inn, his emerald eyes scan the room and settle on the “Help Wanted” board and the honey haired woman in front of it. As he begins to head over, the woman peeled away from the board and headed to the bar. Standing before the wanted poster nearly jumps of the board at him. Inspecting the poster he sees that interested parties should meet with the Sheriff here today. Smiling a half smile the young warrior pops his neck and rolls his shoulders back. He runs a hand through his sandy hair then settles it on the hilt of his sword, feeling the leather he gives it a reassuring squeeze. Turning to once again face the room he heads to the bar, “Mead, please, if available if not Ale will suffice.”
The bartender is a beautiful woman of Tian descent, with raven hair contrasted by the silver-blue locks flanking her face. A jade snake tattoo adorns her right upper arm. She makes the rounds in good spirit, stopping for small talk with the regulars and bringing out the dishes as they finish.
She looks over the requests, nodding as she sees the bounty on the hooked horseman. She'll turn away from the board, walk up to the bar, and take a seat. "Good afternoon, Ameiko!" She says with a smile full of perfect teeth. "How have things been? I haven't been back to Sandpoint in a few years. Do you still have that delicious fish curry?" she asks.
"Things are getting better. The town was a bit of a mess after some goblins attacked during the Swallowtail Festival, but life is starting to return to normal. Do we still have fish curry? What kind of coastal town would we be without fish on the menu? Would you like me to get you some then?"
Turning to once again face the room he heads to the bar, “Mead, please, if available if not Ale will suffice.”
Ameiko turns to ask, "How about our early winterdrop mead? It's a local favorite." Before Ourias can answer, Ameiko already has a mug filling with the frothy amber brew, that finishes with a golden head that threatens to spill over but never does, that she brings over.
A loud creak is heard from the stairs, followed by the slow rhythm of someone descending. A stern rock of a man with terracotta colored skin and chiseled features assists an injured man with bloodied bandages wrapped around his forehead and his left arm in a sling. Both wear uniforms, although of different offices. The injured man is adorned with the sigil of Magnimar. The former settles the injured one at a table close to the bar before taking a moment to scan the Rusty Dragon. Rattling the table with his fist, he begins to speak, "Good afternoon, everyone. I am Sheriff Hemlock, and this is Telban Kannar. For those interested, I will now be addressing the bounty posted here." His words are steady and measured, like a song written by the legendary bard, the Man in Black. He pauses to allow for those interested in listening to move closer. "Trevol Greenway has escaped. We are not certain if it was a part of a crafty plan or pure coincidence, but nonetheless the man must be found and brought in. Trevol is a murderer, and we can't allow the good folk of Sandpoint and the surrounding coast live in fear or worse. Magnimar has authorized a bounty of 300 gold pieces for bringing Trevol in. Alive is preferred, but do not take unnecessary risks to do so. If you will now give your attention to Telban so that he can provide the last known details. Telban was a member of the escort and survived the attack."
In a pained voice mixed with visual winces, Telban begins to tell his story, "We were traveling on the Lost Coast road near the Brinestump Marshes when we were attacked. The knotted trees of the marsh flanked our side and the branches formed a canopy over the road. From within the trees came scintillating balls of flame that streaked erratically at the cart, whistling like shrieks of the dead and popping in loud explosions. The horses... *cough* immediately panicked, and the driver lost control. Then came the arrows and the goblin chants. The horses were pulling the cart erratically at this point. We must have hit a rock or something, as the wagon took an odd angle and started to slide off the road. Eventually we hit a tree and I was flung from my seat. I awoke buried in underbrush and crumpled at the roots of another massive tree. It took me some time to crawl back to the road and to the wagon, and when I did it wasn't pretty. The center was crushed inward and jagged pieces of splintered wood were everywhere. Crude arrows littered the side, as well as dark scorch marks. The horses didn't fair much better. The little buggers actually put one of their heads on a pike! I found Elmar limp inside the wagon, his head dangling. His neck must have snapped in the crash. The others, well... it looks like they tried to put some resistance, but were cut down."
"Goblins? Yeah they're always a nuisance!" Samantha replies heartily. "I was just teasing you; of course I'd love some of your curry!"
She watches her deal out the Winterdrop Mead, and she takes a deep breath and smiles. "I'll have a mug fo that too, if you please!" she says. She fishes in her belt pouch for some coins to pay for the meal and drink. "You wouldn't happen to know when the Sheriff will be by, do you?"
The bartender is a beautiful woman of Tian descent, with raven hair contrasted by the silver-blue locks flanking her face. A jade snake tattoo adorns her right upper arm. She makes the rounds in good spirit, stopping for small talk with the regulars and bringing out the dishes as they finish.
She looks over the requests, nodding as she sees the bounty on the hooked horseman. She'll turn away from the board, walk up to the bar, and take a seat. "Good afternoon, Ameiko!" She says with a smile full of perfect teeth. "How have things been? I haven't been back to Sandpoint in a few years. Do you still have that delicious fish curry?" she asks."Things are getting better. The town was a bit of a mess after some goblins attacked during the Swallowtail Festival, but life is starting to return to normal. Do we still have fish curry? What kind of coastal town would we be without fish on the menu? Would you like me to get you some then?"
Turning to once again face the room he heads to the bar, “Mead, please, if available if not Ale will suffice.”Ameiko turns to ask, "How about our early winterdrop mead? It's a local favorite." Before Ourias can answer, Ameiko already has a mug filling with the frothy amber brew, that finishes with a golden head that threatens to spill over but never does, that she brings over.
A loud creak is heard from the stairs, followed by the slow rhythm of someone descending. A stern rock of a man with terracotta colored skin and chiseled features assists an injured man with bloodied bandages wrapped around his forehead and his left arm in a sling. Both wear uniforms, although of different offices. The injured man is adorned with the sigil of Magnimar. The former settles the injured one at a table close to the bar before taking a moment to scan...
"The Licktoad Goblins have been getting bolder as of late. Ever since they found a cache of pyrotechnics, their cowardice has been replaced by religious zeal for fire. Something will have to be done about that, eventually. But first we need to bring Trevol in. I recommend starting your search at the site of the crash."
Through the description of the attack, Morthak takes out a small dagger and begins spinning it on its point on the counter.
"Why would goblins want to rescue this human?" Morthak turns and stares at the witness. "Did you actually see the goblins?"
As the Sheriff begin's to speak Ourias moves in closer to listen. After Sheriff Hemlock and Telban finished speaking he springs to his feet, "I am Ourias, as servant of Abadar, I wish to volunteer to apprehend this villainous knave." Ourias said with boldness.
Lazarus listens intently to the Sheriff's story, then gets up from the table, clearing his throat, and walks closer.
"Lazarus Baer at your service. I, um, dabble, in magic and I believe my talents may also be of use in apprehending this criminal."
Lars turns to face the sheriff. Trying his best to keep the hunger and hatred out of his voice, he says "You had me at Trevol. I'm in."
"As am I!" Samantha exclaims, raising a gauntleted hand.
Through the description of the attack, Morthak takes out a small dagger and begins spinning it on its point on the counter."Why would goblins want to rescue this human?" Morthak turns and stares at the witness. "Did you actually see the goblins?"
Telban turns to Morthak and answers, "Yes, we did see them. They rode their hairless freaks and pursued us. I think some might have been in the woods themselves."
Ameiko moves between the tables, bringing Sam her curry and mead.
Sheriff Hemlock adds, "We're not sure if the goblins intended to free him or not, but it shouldn't be ruled out. We've already seen cases here where they were pawns of greater powers. But it's just as likely that they picked the first target they saw."
...
Hearing the affirmations, Hemlock gives a stoic nod of approval. "Very well. Telban can give you more details on where they were attacked. It's about a 3 mile walk from here. If you bring him in alive, head straight to the garrison. We'll have a cell waiting."
[dice=Profession Watchman test to see if the two men in uniforms look like they work for the sheriff]1d20+4
Hopefully it's clear at this point?
Lar's eye twitches when the sheriff mentions bringing Trevol in alive. He nods stoically and turns to Telban. "So what can you tell us? Where exactly did this happen, how many of the greenskin *bastards* were there, and how were they armed?" As he spoke his anger started to rise, his brow becoming a scowl and his body tensing. He caught himself and with a forced, deep breath, he composed himself. "Please."
"As am I!" Samantha exclaims, raising a gauntleted hand.
Morthak nods.
"I will help," he says. "One who disgraces the bodies of the dead in this way should be brought to justice."
Lazarus quietly clears his throat in response to Morthak's statement and goes back to listening intently at the Sheriff.
"Why yes, absolutely. Swift justice at that!" he adds.
Telban sketches out a very rough map of where they were attacked and provides it to Lars, although he can't provide an exact count. Weapons include bows, some form of fiery and loud magic or alchemy, and very crude swords and lances.
Assuming the party is ready to travel there to investigate... if anyone plans on making a purchase before leaving, let me know.
Heading south out of Sandpoint, the party crosses the Turandarok River's languid waters on a creaky wooden bridge before reaching the Lost Coast road. A cool breeze carries the scent of brine from the Varisian Gulf, and the occasional seagull's cry can be heard over the crashing of waves. The day is pleasant and a sharp contrast to the task at hand. The Lost Cost road holds true to it's name and follows the coastline as best as possible. The eastern horizon is blotted by the Devil's Platter - a series of limestone escarpments - for more than a mile before the land opens up and fields begin to turn sloppy, indicating the vicinity of the Soggy River's delta.
After an hour, you suspect the party is getting close to where Telban indicated.
Lars takes point, his sword resting on his shoulder as they march. He remains silent the entire time, lost in his own thoughts. Every once in awhile he looks around, as if remembering that he should be aware of his surroundings. But inevitably the same dark looks creeps back and his hand tightens around the hilt of the sword.
When the party gets close enough he begins looking for tracks. Either goblin or human, to follow.
However, he is not used to working outside of a town, and quickly finds that being in the wilderness is an entirely different matter.
edit
Once he got over his initial frustration, Lars takes his time to properly search for tracks. It just took patience, a clear head and concentration. Three things he had been lacking as of late.
Morthak looks at the others as if to say, 'is this it?' He then begins looking around for signs of what happened.
"Yes, something happened here."
Ummmm... what happened here? I'm not very at ease in the outdoors, or very useful for that matters..Except if you want to write a book about it.
I'm sorry, I don't want to intrude. I just followed you, because it seems to be the right thing to do. I haven't even introduced myself. I am Atsushia Greyeyes, and I use the arcane arts too..
"It's as good a place to start as any, at least." she says.
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Lazarus also lends his eyes and ears to the situation.
While not skilled in tracking or investigation Ourias does his best to help.
When the others mention that they suspect they are nearing the scene he readies his shield and draws his sword.
As the group gets closer to the expected area, the land has changed to sunken marsh and the coast is blotted out by a mix of cypress trees, cattails, and saw grass. The cool winds no longer blow across the road; instead, a slight humidity starts to make your clothes noticeably cling. The Lost Coast road falls in shadow for measurable lengths as the winding branches intertwine.
As the road bends around, the group spots what must be the wrecked wagon. A motley crew of green-grey humanoids surround the wagon, pulling apart pieces and digging through the rubble. One of the two on top yells something in a high-pitched, garbled language, and the heads turn to face the party.
The party may act.
Round 1
Atsushia Init: 18
Morthak Init: 21
Lars Init: 9
Lazarus Init: 12
Samantha Init: 9
Ourias Init: 21
The link to the map is at the top.
"I suppose we want one alive," Morthak grumbles.
Morthak trots up towards the wagon and takes a defensive stance.
With a deep inhale and exhaling with a snort, Ourias advances toward his foes.
Don't go too close.. let me try something first to protect you all..
Atsushia concentrates on her amulet, and soon a golden radiance envelop those close to her
With a deep inhale and exhaling with a snort, Ourias advances toward his foes.
We'll allow the charge using the logic that a friendly doesn't impede movement, unless a more explicit thread/evidence is found.
Don't go too close.. let me try something first to protect you all..
Atsushia concentrates on her amulet, and soon a golden radiance envelop those close to her
We'll allow this here; I did see some recent radius diagrams that make me hesitate to say that the angles are actually ruled as 10' (see the pattern for reach weapons - the far corners not fully covered by the 10' don't count), but I don't have the time at the moment to go hunting for it.
Samantha, clad in armor and warding magic, strides forward confidently. Holding up her shield, she twirls her war-flute in her other hand. The weapon makes a haunting, hollow melody as it spins. She accompanies it with a song of war, sung in Celestial.
At 1st level, affected allies gain a +2 morale bonus to Strength and Constitution and a +1 morale bonus on Will saving throws, but also take a –1 penalty to AC. While under the effects of inspired rage, allies other than the skald cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride) or any ability that requires patience or concentration. At 4th level and every 4 levels thereafter, the song's bonuses on Will saves increase by 1; the penalty to AC doesn't change. At 8th and 16th levels, the song's bonuses to Strength and Constitution increase by 2. (Unlike the barbarian's rage ability, those affected are not fatigued after the song ends.) If an ally has her own rage class ability (such as barbarian's rage, bloodrager's bloodrage, or skald's inspired rage), she may use the Strength, Constitution, and Will saving throw bonuses, as well as AC penalties, based on her own ability and level instead of those from the skald (still suffering no fatigue afterward). However, inspired rage does not allow the ally to activate abilities dependent on other rage class abilities, such as rage powers, blood casting, or bloodrager bloodlines; the ally must activate her own rage class ability in order to use these features.
Atsushia listens to the song, wide eyed
That's ... beautiful! And very moving! Got quite the rythm in that song.. I'll have to write it down in my books when we have time!
Lazarus holds his position, waiting until the action comes closer to him. He clutches the hilt of an old silver dagger and mulls his spell options, while quietly observing his new companions.
Completely giving in to the song, Lars let's loose a wordless battlecry. With sword in hand he throws caution to the wind and charges the nearest goblin.
The group prepares for combat as Lars leads, charging forward and pinning the goblin to wagon frame. Lars has to prop his leg against the wood to pull his sword out. Ourias follows suit, catching another goblin off guard as it stares in amazement at it's peer. Wounded, it coughs up black blood but still sneers with a vicious growl.
The goblin on the roof mixes some viscous liquids and tosses it at Lars.
Which somehow falls short, but leaves a ringing in Lars' and Ourias' ears and singing their flesh for 2 points each.
The wounded goblin tries to retaliate with a jagged piece of metal bent into a sweeping curve, but lacks the strength to break the armor.
Another one on top lights a foot-long cylindrical wand, which promptly fires out a burning green sphere, but it goes wide and begins to smolder in the damp grass.
The roadside goblin tries to move into position, but can't get a good swing in.
Party Up.
Samantha moves forward, continuing her war song. Her flute croons in the wind as she twirls it, and though she tries, she just can't quite hit the goblin before her and keep the cadence on her flute.
Wheeling to his right Ourias takes a backhand slice at his next foe.
Lars turns to the foe nearest to him. After taking a moment to 'study' the goblin, seeing how it moved, he swung his sword. Guessing that it would try and dodge to the right, he takes a 5 foot step towards the cart. He quickly brought it down and around again in a backward slash, hoping to hit the goblin as it tried to avoid his blow.
Lazarus clutches his dagger and throws some sand from his pocket while muttering some words to himself. He casts Sleep at the goblins on the roof.
Ourias and Lars tear down their opponents in synch to Sam's music while the two goblins on top of the wreck succumb to a magical lullaby.
Out of Combat