SJ@'s Elsir Vale (4Experience)

[SJ@]

Chorus: Why do you cry out thus, unless at some vision of horror?
Cassandra: The house reeks of death and dripping blood.
Chorus: How so? 'Tis but the odor of the altar sacrifice.
Cassandra: The stench is like a breath from the tomb.

~ Aeshylus, Agamemnon

Spoiler:

With apologies to Richard Adams and Watership Down.

[SJ@]

AS the sun wastes in the west, turning the grey clouds orange, red, and purple, a tall man with leafy walking stick and brown road-stained robes and a boy of ten years walk a single-track deer trail that cuts through the thick undergrowth and skirts the great oaks of the Witchwood.

“Tell me about the Vale,” the boy says quietly.

“You will see soon enough,” says the man. He relents when he sees the boy’s crestfallen look. “What would you know?”

The boys beams but considers before speaking. “Is it very large?”

“Mmm. ‘Tis perhaps eighty leagues or more in length from the Westdeep to the Golden Plains and is bound by mountains North and South—The Giantshield and The Wyvernwatch—with perhaps twenty-five leagues between.”

“Have you been to the Westdeep?” Asks the boy reverently.

“I have,” Says the man. “And to the plains and mountains and the Marth, and the Blackfens, and the Thornewaste.” He looks at the slackjawed boy beside him and smiles. “And all over these woods with you. But look, now.”

The trail emerges suddenly from the shadow of the tree line and affords them both a view of the sloping fields, the river, and the town beyond.

“What place is this?” The boy asks shielding his eyes even in the dimming light.

“The river is the Elsir; the town, Drellin’s Ferry.” Says the man grimly.

The boy inhales though his teeth , “Then this is where—“

“—Yes.” Says the man, “This is where it all began some ten years ago when the Red Hand marched on the Vale.” He adds with some sadness is his voice, “When you were born. The war drums sounded through the Witchwood, and the Hand issued from this very spot to attack Drellin’s Ferry.”

“You were there?” Asks the boy as he shivers a little.

“I was.”

“You said the Heroes made their first stand against the Hand in Drellin’s Ferry.” Says the boy, looking into the man’s eyes.

“They did.” The man responds.

“Did you see them, Jaroo?” Asks the boy. “Did you know them?”

“I did,” says the man, Jaroo, as he looks down upon the town in the fading light. “I knew them well.”

[SJ@]

Part I, Chapter 1: The Antler and Thistle

THE darkened wood sign, showing a black elk rampant over a blood red rose with black stem, thorns, and leaves, hangs over the door of one of the only single-level buildings in Bristol. The Antler and Thistle seems a squat affair from the outside that—as tales have it—appeals to Dwarves as its walls are made of stone instead of the beam-and-plaster construction that is more the norm for this town.

Happily, the building seems larger on the inside than the out—though one would be hard-pressed to say if that was due to the exposed beams that extended the height of the place overhead or that every conceivable square-inch of wall, beam, and ceiling seem to be occupied by some miscellaneous object that would singularly seem out of place if not for the collective mishmash next to it.

The walls on either side and over the entrance behind are covered with antlers of all shapes, sizes, and, apparently, species of animal. Some are simply mounted elk or deer antlers; others are the mounted heads of such animals that appear to have been prepared by one with greater skill as a butcher than a taxidermist. Among these are the hangings of pelts, feathers, and birds' wings.

The overhead beams, blackened with soot near the central hearth that oft-times serves as a place to boil water or to spit and roast the carcass of some wild game, also double as a convenient place to hang sundries: dried bunches of Reedflower, Lavender, and a variety of spices and wildflowers; sausages and the smoked or salted haunches of boar, elk, or other wild animal, and even strings of onions, garlic, and woven net-bags of mushrooms, tubers, peppers, and wild potatoes. Among these are items that have been drilled, strung, and hung for no obvious reason: animals jaws and bones, tallow candles, and—inexplicably—polished rocks of dark green flecked with red.

You spy an eating knife that has been speared through a playing card and is sunk deeply into the wood beam over a table. Over one front window hangs the handle of a scythe, its blade missing. Next to the back door, a cart wheel hangs—the wood wheel is split with a jagged crack across its diameter but both halves are held together by the intact metal band.

Despite the endless array of objects hung on the beams or the walls, it is the thing that provides the Antler and Thistle with the other half of its name that draws the attention of all first-time patrons of the tavern. Mysteriously growing out of the—can that be right?—out of the far end of the wooden bar is an immense and intensely beautiful vine rose that grows up a post and engulfs the beam under which the bar lies some thirty feet in length. The vine and leaves are a sooty-green-grey backdrop to the deeply red roses, still in full-bloom this late in the year.

It is from behind this long oaken bar that Earod Daemoniclese runs the Antler and Thistle, filling glasses and mugs—no two of which match—with the strong libations bottled and shelved along the wall behind him.

“Felled from the Witchwood,” the graying redhead, middle-aged man says with a gravelly voice, patting the polished bar lovingly, chewing on a sprig of Marshleaf, and spitting into something—at least you hope he’s spitting into something—behind the bar.

During the day, even the filtered light through the diamond shaped panes of mottled-glass seems to expose too much of the discordance caused by the things that hang about the place, and as a result the Antler and Thistle is often empty, or nearly so, during the 'working hours,' as the people of Bristol put it. Half the time Earod doesn’t bother striking a fire in the hearth until well past noon unless he has some hunted beast to spit and roast. Late in the season, travelers often find a tattered sheet of paper nailed to the door with a scrawled, "Gone hunting," written on it.

In the softer lantern-light that comes with night, however, the shadows embrace the many-hanging things and brighten the red roses above the bar. Likewise, the whole room darkens and sharpens in a pleasing way. Ruddy browns and sooty grays soften and glow amber or blueish-gray by lantern light. The smoke that lingers near the ceiling hugs the beams and rafters, and the air becomes thick with the smells of roasted meats and rawhide, wildflowers and spices, and the stout, reassuring smell of polished wood, solid stone, and roses. This sense of solidity and closeness, and the never-ending constellation of objects of to look at overhead, draws locals and travelers alike to share in Earod’s food and even moreso his varied selection of alcohol and to hear the music of the traveling players and the stories of bards that invariably perch at his hearth.

It is here, at the Antler and Thistle, that you find yourself on a foggy autumn night, staring at a hand-painted, gilded ink-on-black placard over the bar which states simply, “Welcome to the Antler and Thistle. Sit, eat, and drink! Leave your troubles—and your sorceries—at the door, else you find yourself put out. ~Earod Daemoniclese, Prop.” Under which is added, in a less careful—and ungilded—script. “There shall be no playing at cards here on pain of being put out with no further admittings.”

It is ironic, given the placard, that among the other patrons in the tavern, there is group, two men and a Dwarf, playing cards at a back table. They draw no ire from Earod, who can clearly see them.

Earod looks in your direction, chews, and spits. “You can look to a table, if you like. Ellice or Fina’ll be along for you t’order.” You notice no stools or benches at the bar and so, turning, look for a table...

[SJ@]

The Antler and Thistle, a birds-eye view. Note that "R" is for bar patrons and/or serving folk. The end-product of this map didn't turn out like I wanted, but it'll give you a good starting-point until I get something I like.

[Dravos Stonebrow]

Dravos grunts in acknowledgment to the barkeeper and moves to a table on the far side of the room from the card-players. He settles his hammer and shield on the floor, leaning them against the wall and spares a quick glance over his shoulder as he removes his pack. Not many stout-folk around here, I reckon. Best not to be recognized so close to home. Still, he cannot resist trying to get a glimpse of the other dwarf - if only to assure himself that he has not stumbled upon a brother-in-law or second cousin.

His gear finally arranged to his liking, he settles into a chair, back to the wall, and pulls his helm low over his eyes. When the barmaid arrives to take his order, he nods his head stiffly and cups a pair of silver coins, which he soundlessly slides across the table towards her.

"I'll have the stew - and could ya bring some water for my flask?" he asks in a low, unhurried voice while patting the nearly empty flask hanging from his shoulder as if he needs to prove to her that it really is empty.

Just saw the map. Assuming card-players are in the upper right, I will go for the chair near B-15. Not all the way in the corner, but back to the wall.

Perception check vs. the other dwarf. Bluff check to do it discreetly. (1d20+2=19, 1d20=8)

[Kriv the Crafty]

The unusual figure of a dragonborn waits outside the inn impatiently; even more unusual is his coloration. Rather than the normal browns and ochres of his kin, his scales are of an ivory hue, and his eyes are a bright blue.

He wears well made robes in the style of his people that allow for both elegance and movement. His clawed foot scuffs the ground in slight annoyance.

Where is she? Never trust an elf to be on time! "Oh yes, Kriv, I'll see you there!" - how many times have I heard that, Aelwyn? he thinks grumpily.

[Aelwyn]

Kriv the Crafty wrote:

Where is she? Never trust an elf to be on time! "Oh yes, Kriv, I'll see you there!" - how many times have I heard that, Aelwyn? he thinks grumpily.

Behind him, Kriv hears a lilting giggle. He turns to see a slender female in a rich, dappled forest-green cloak and tall brown leather boots. Her bright emerald eyes sparkle from beneath her hood.

"Why, it's time you got here," she says to the surprised -- and slightly annoyed -- dragonborn towering over her. She answers his look with wide-eyed innocence: "I was here all the time. You just didn't see me," which is possible -- she seems to fade into the background with ease -- yet she also marches to the beat of her own drummer with little care for precise timekeeping.

"Shall we go in?" she asks.

Thanks, Fabes, for the help to get started!

[Kriv the Crafty]

*grunt*

"Wha-harumph! A likely story! Although you're quiet enough," he adds with a shake of his head, "Well, we'd better meet this fellow, now that we're both here."

He strides into the inn re-mustering his calm and dignity.

Now what was that fellow's name?

[Dravos Stonebrow]

Dravos looks up as the dragonborn and elf step across the threshold.

"Over here," he says under his breath as he pushes a chair away from the table with his foot.

"I picked up my gear this morning," looking at the overstuffed backpack under the table, "Now we just need to figure out what next. Were either of you able to find out more about this 'goblin problem'?"

Taking some liberties as I don't know much about your backgrounds. But assuming you are also interested in the town's reported goblin issues.

[Kriv the Crafty]

"Ah, there you are," Kriv grunts, "We haven't made serious enquiries as of yet; or at least I have not; I cannot speak for my companion." he adds indicating his elven friend.

"The inhabitants of this town seem rather close-mouthed."

[Aelwyn]

Aelwyn steps into the cavernous tavern and takes in the scene. "Looks a bit -- dwarfy -- in here, doesn't it?" she whispers to Kriv.

She nods pleasantly at the dwarf who greeted them. "I think I heard some rumors earlier today," she confides.

What's the word on the street?
Streetwise (1d20=20)

Do I get a crit? :)

[JSL]

Aelwyn wrote:

What's the word on the street?
Streetwise (1d20=20)

Do I get a crit? :)

Yes. You killed the Word.

[SJ@]

Dravos Stonebrow wrote:

... moves to a table on the far side of the room from the card-players. He settles his hammer and shield on the floor, leaning them against the wall and spares a quick glance over his shoulder as he removes his pack...

Perception check vs. the other dwarf. Bluff check to do it discreetly. (1d20+2=19, 1d20=8)

The card players are indeed at the back of the room; you manage a glimpse as you make your way to the table but discover, after taking you chair, that you no longer have them in your field-of-vision. The central hearth, a column of stone masonry that forms not only the hearth, but a chimney, rises floor-to-ceiling and obscures you view.

You did manage to notice the following, however...

Spoiler:

The dwarf is balding, and wears the garb of a tradesman--specifically, he is still attired in a white, stained apron. He is, like most Dwarves, large and well-muscled, but it also appears that he is accustomed to "raiding the larder," as Dwarves often say.

He is playing cards with two human men, one whose appearance you could not make out, though his also wears an apron. The other man is tall and lean with dark hair and sporting a goatee. He wears a long black leather coat and next to him is a tall, rune-covered, staff. He is looking at you as you scan the table but returns his attention to the card game.

There is money on the table and cards are being delt, passed, and exchanged. You figure that, even with the ambient noise of the room, you ought to be able to discern some of their conversation, but you cannot. Whatever is being said around that table is being said quietly.

[SJ@]

Aelwyn:

Spoiler:

The mood around town is apprehensive to say the least--the inhalation in anticipation of the blow. You've learned that a young, new councilmember in Bristol, Eoffram Troyas, is speaking often, loudly, and with great persistence to raise the militia in response to reports of increased goblin activity in the north.

The Council has been reluctant to disrupt the lives of its citizens (and its flow of taxes) by calling up the militia, a view that is certain to change with today's news: goblins, hobgoblins, and worse have effectively cut-off the small town of Red Rock from the rest of the Vale. A caravan that left for Red Rock two days ago was attacked and returned just this afternoon with half their numbers. The town guard has been put on alert, and the council has called an emergency meeting for tonight.

An accomplished guide yourself, you spoke to a man-at-arms that served as guard on the caravan and learned something that has not been widely circulating: the monsters appear to be organized. They fly a banner not seen in the Vale for a decade...the banner of a red hand. Were this news to get out, the townfolk of Bristol would be in uproar.

Okay, a lot, I know, but you did get a Crit.!

[Ben Blackstone]

Spoilered for Novel-length intro! With the 'obvious bits' showing for everyone to see. (No secrets here, feel free to read!) ;)

I turned my attention back to the table as the Dwarf newcomer passed behind the large fireplace in the center of the room and out of my line of sight. I glanced at my hand again.

Spoiler:

Nope. Still 2 low blues, a gold and a green. Not much to work with. I always thought that Dragons would look more impressive if they were all double-digit numbers. I looked at my fellow players. My fellow human Hess, short for 'Hestas', was putting on his best poker face. Which meant he might actually have something worth playing. Saying he was easy to read would be a kindness. Calling him 'William Tell' would be a kindness. Hess trying to hide his hand was like trying to hide an Orcan Warbeast behind a sheet of fine glass. You might could do it, but it wasn't really worth the effort.

The dwarf was another matter. His face was set and unreadable. Just like the stone he and his race love so much. The Dwarf's name is Adronsius. He is an alchemist, and his potions, elixirs, and admixtures have gotten me out of a spot a time or two. He is sharp and an accomplished gambler. Though he always seems happy with his profession, he's always looking for an angle or a cut of the take. I consider him a long-time associate and friend. One of the few I've managed to keep.

Hestas is Adronsius's apprentice. He's likable enough in an uninteresting way. Earnest, hard-working, and loyal to the dwarf, Hess is a bit star-struck around me and does not hide it well. In fact, he doesn't hide anything well, and I'd trust him with a secret about as much as a sieve to hold water. Adronsius usually stops Hess from losing his whole week's salary when he sits at the table and plays with us both.

I sighed and laid the green dragon, a thoroughly middling 7, into it's position in the flight in front of me. It wasn't much of a play, but at this point I was just trying to keep from losing my shirt to Andron. The dwarf was in unusually good spirits it seemed, as he countered with an even lousier card. Which prevented both Hess and I from losing our ante's this round. Even Hess seemed surprised at that.

As Adron gathered up the cards and reshuffled, I took the time to enjoy a large drink of Earod's fine ale. The barkeep brews it himself, and you can tell he enjoys his work. As much as I enjoy playing cards and passing time with Adron, if he hadn't offered to buy me dinner and ale, I probably wouldn't have bothered showing up this time. But the ale was probably the only thing Earod served that was better than his steaks. At least in In my humble opinion. And, business had been bad, and I had been on nuts and berry rations for way too long. Adron knew this, ergo the offer of dinner and drink, and the chance to talk a little 'business'. Ah well, I had already thoroughly enjoyed the steak and spiced potatoes. And I was good for a small tab with Earod even if I irritated Adron and he cut me off. Might as well get this over with. It was either that or risk another round of 'Give Adronsius my money'.

"So Adron." I interjected as the dwarf's stubby fingers made magic with the cards. He made the cards dance from hand to hand in a way that I could never imitate, outside of using magic. "What, exactly, is the business proposition this time? You know I can't afford to buy into one of your schemes. After paying you for this last batch," I patted the healing potion He had made for me, now tucked safely into the inside pocket of my heavy leather coat. "I don't even have a dozen Gold Pieces to my name."

I leaned my lanky form back and tried to get comfortable in the wooden chair. The ale was helping. The ancient oak seat cushion was not. "Besides, after all of the potions, elixirs, and salves I've paid you for over the years, I should already own a part of your business. I should be, like a silent partner or something!"

Adronsius guffawed into his beard. Or his apron. They were both so dirty and stained from his days work that I couldn't really tell where one ended and the other began without looking very closely. "I thought about that. Several times." He replied in his gravely voice. "Only trouble is yah never seem tah know when tah be silent Ben!" He growled snidely. But he was smiling. You could tell by the way that his mouth whiskers were standing straight out. "Naw, the boys got a problem. I t'aught yeh could mebbe help him out."

That got my attention, and I gave it to Hess. The youth promptly began to look into his ale mug. "So, what seems to be the problem Hess?" I prompted gently. He looked like he wanted to ask if he could take my daughter to the fall dance. Thank the gods I don't have any daughters. Or any other kids. That would first require finding a woman who could stand me long enough to marry me.

Hess took a drink of Earod's liquid courage and finally looked at me. "Well, yuh see Mr. Blackstone,... There's, this girl,..."

I closed my eyes and sighed inwardly. Despite my continually telling Hess for the last 2 years that he could call me 'Ben', he still insisted on addressing me formally. I used to think his infatuation with my Wizard skills was cute. But when your broke, and your friends are bailing you out by buying you dinner, a little hero-worship goes a long way.

"Sorry kid," I told him. A littler harsher than I had intended. "But you've got the wrong guy. Your master's the one who handles the love potions. Now, if you wanted to impress her with fireworks, or a Bar-B-Que, I might could help out."

Hess looked flustered. "Naw, It ain't like that Mr. Blackstone!" He looked at Adronsius, silently pleading for help. The dwarf gave another guffaw and had pity on the flustered apprentice. "The business proposition iz fer you Ben. Ah wants yuh tah teach the lad magic."

I had been in the middle of another drink of ale when that hit me, I choked, coughed, and managed to decorate the table with only half of my mouthful. From the corner of my eye, I saw Earod give me a glare. Probably for wasting his good ale more than the mess. "You want me to what?!" I managed to choke out, much louder than intended. With another hasty glance around I lowered my voice. "You want me to what?" I heard myself repeating. 'Oh, very clever Mr. Wizard, that'll impress him.'

Spoiler:

"Ah'm not askin' yuh to turn him inta the next Archwizard of the Valley, Jest teach him the basics. You allays told me that at it's core, magic was pretty easy, and almos' anybody could do it with enough practice." The dwarf explained in rough voice.

"Uh. Why?" I responded sagely. Inwardly I winced. My reputation as an all-knowing wizard was taking a serious beating here.

Adronsius shook his head. "Yer bein' more dense 'en usual Ben." He complained. "But dere's several reasons. The lad is my apprentice, an' he's doin' pretty good, but the fact is he don' know if'n he wants to be an alchemist. And He ain't never made no secret o' the fact dat he's mighty impressed with your magic. Now He's gone and got his eye on this girl that Ah think is sweet on him,..."

"Adronsius!" Hess hissed plaintively.

",... An'd Ah don't think he needs no help," The dwarf continued as if Hess had not interrupted. "But he's thinkin' that bein able tah work magic, even jest a little, would put him ahead of her other suitors. An' me? AH think dat havin' an apprentice that can work magic, even jest a little, would be a big advantage. And I'm too old tah be learnin' yer consarned finger-wagglin. With some basic magikin' skills, and what I kin teach him, the boy might just make a better Alchemist than me! And THAT is a legacy that dis old dwarf kin live with!" He slapped his meaty hand on the table for emphasis.

"It wouldn't have tah be a full-time thing. Fact I'd prefer it if it weren't! Ah still have lots to teach the boy me own self." Adron continued. "And you seem to have a little extra time on your hands lately. Ah kin pay you a fair rate fer educatin' the boy, and you can work in teachin' him around your own schedule." Adron offered, politely not directly referring to my current lack of clients, but leaving me an out.

My mind raced, I took another drink of ale to give me time to think. It worked. "There's one problem Adron." I said probably a little too quickly. "And you already said it. Hess is YOUR apprentice. I've heard of Masters who take on more than one apprentice, but I've NEVER heard of an apprentice having more than one Master!" I finished quickly but calmly, secure in my own logical defense.

"Nope." Adron said, and I realized then I had made my mistake. Instead of saying 'No', I had tried to come up with reasons not to. Adron knew then that he had me thinking about it. NOW he was just negotiating. Something that he was much better at than I am. "Ah'm still the master. Leastwise until the boy tells me he wants tah leave and go with you. And we Kin fight over that then if it happens. Ah'm jest hiring you tah teach the boy a skill. Like his learnin' his letters, or me showin' him how long to boil an herb to get it's full potency. Duz that put you more at ease? Er were yah gonna spend the rest of our cards night coming up for lame excuses for sumthin' ah KNOW yah want to do anyways?" He growled with another spiky-faced smile.

Darnit. One reason I hate playing cards with Adronsius is he knows me too well. Not only did he know that I like to teach, he also knew that Hess had talent. Magically I mean. I had taken a LOOK shortly after I met the boy, and What I saw indicated that he did, indeed, have the potential to work magic. It wasn't screaming 'Archmage' potential, but he did have the basic connection to the flow of magic that would allow him to learn and work spells. IF someone showed him how. From there I was totally on the defensive. After a few minutes of making excuses, each one lamer than the last, I finally threw up my hands.

"Alight, alright! I'll think about it. Now, can we please play cards?!?" I pleaded frustratedly. Adron obliged with a nod, and dealt the cards as I went to the bar to get us refills. I noticed that the dwarf I had seen earlier had been joined by an elf and,... a draconian? Spells and Shells, I must have been REALLY distracted by Adron's offer to not have noticed those two come in! I could understand if it had just been the elf, but the human-sized lizard was not entirely common around these parts. And the Dragonkin's pale hide would have stood out even if they were. Thanking Earod, I noticed the Dwarf's bulging backpack. Then the matching packs of his companions. 'May the magic defend us. Not another heroic quest!' I thought to myself as I headed back to the table with the ales.

Spoiler:

We spent the next hour not discussing the obvious. Just playing three-dragon ante' and discussing the local news. Or at least the local gossip, which was as close to news as Drellin's Ferry usually got. I was dismayed to learn that I had been so wrapped up in my own problems that I had completely missed the disturbing news and rumors that Adron filled me in on.

Yes, I ended up agreeing to teach Hess magic. At least the basics. But ONLY if he listened to me explicitly, and did exactly what I told him to do. No more, no less. The last thing I needed was an enthusiastic Hess mastering a light-a-candle spell and thinking that meant he could summon a salamander or throw a fireball at an orc. THAT kind of thinking could get him killed. And I didn't need that on my conscience. I told him I would start his lessons next week. After I finished up with a couple of clients. In truth, I just wanted a few days to figure out where I was going to start with him. At least Adron was offering a fair fee for my 'teaching services'. And he even let me win enough hands that ended with the same amount that I had first entered the bar with. Almost to the copper. I have NO idea how he continuously managed to do that.

On my next turn to grab the refills, I took another look. Sure enough, The dwarf, Dragonborn and elf were still at the same table, deep in discussion. Instead of dismissing them this time, I pondered.

What kind of crazy person decided that they wanted to go out and be a hero? I wondered if I would ever understand.

[Kriv the Crafty]

Kriv turns to see a rather excitable human male remonstrating about something.

[Dravos Stonebrow]

Ben Blackstone wrote:

I had been in the middle of another drink of ale when that hit me, I choked, coughed, and managed to decorate the table with only half of my mouthful.

Dravos chuckles inwardly as the leather-clad human fails to hold down his grog.

"That one - I doubt he is from around here. But by the looks of the other two, they could be locals." he says in a low voice using his eyes to indicate the party he is referring to.

"Ah, what I wouldn't do for a draught just now." He looks bemusedly at the pitcher of water on the table as if it is a peculiar foreign dish. Pouring some in a tin cup from his mess kit, he swirls it around and sniffs before taking a small sip. The water is fresh, clean, and cool.

"Bah, this stuff is not for Dwarves!" he grumbles as he sips again.

"Have you any news of the town?"

We are in Brindol, right?

SJ@ wrote:

The action will start in the town of Brindol which lies in the center of the Vale in the agricultural heartland. I always find it difficult to start a character in the place that will serve as "home base," but it is the largest community in the vale proper and second largest in the region, so feel free to do so.

[SJ@]

I have a moment to post before my boys destroy...something else. Yes, the Antler and Thistle is in Bristol. I'll post a map of the town soon, but it's a rather easy town to visualize. The town is on the south bank of the Elsir river. It is walled, and the wall forms a rectangular-ish "U" shape starting and returning to the river. The wall is punctuated by three gates ones east and west, near the river, and one south. On the south bank of the river (so the northern part of the city), centrally located between, and equidistant to, where the walls meet the river, is a rather large market square. From this, two bridges span the river. On the north side of each bridge are tower-gates. A third bridge spans the river just inside the east wall--same tower-gate set up on the north side of that bridge, too. For now, it is safe to assume that the Antler and Thistle is just of of the market square, most likely to the south, but I'll decide for sure and mark the map with the exact location of the tavern when I post the .jpg to photobucket.

[FabesMinis]

It's in Bristol? I used to live near there! You're nearly in Wales:D

[SJ@]

Yes, one simply turns left at Aberystwyth.

[Kriv the Crafty]

Know it well! By then of course you're looking at a 5 hour train journey at least; 3 from Aber to Birmingham, and then 2 from Brum to Bristol. I used to go from Exeter to Aber a lot.

*growl*

"Well, what have you heard?" Kriv asks his elven companion. He winces in annoyance at the bearded man playing cards, who seems to be causing something of a fuss.

[Aelwyn]

Kriv the Crafty wrote:

"Well, what have you heard?" Kriv asks his elven companion. He winces in annoyance at the bearded man playing cards, who seems to be causing something of a fuss.

Apologies. Super-busy with work-related stuff, and not much time or energy left for the fun things in life.

Aelwyn takes off the hood of her cloak and leans toward the middle of the table. "As you know, the goblins have been active in the north, and the people in this town are growing on-edge. One of their Council members, an Eoffram Troyas, is trying to drum up support for a militia. I think he may get his wish, because the latest news is that the goblins and their allies have cut Red Rock off from the rest of the Vale. There's going to be an emergency Council meeting tonight."

She drops her voice. "What you probably don't know -- and most of the rest of the town doesn't know yet -- is that the monsters seem to be organized. Once again, they are marching under the banner of the Red Hand."

"The people are afraid. I think this would send them over the edge."

[Dravos Stonebrow]

Aelwyn wrote:

"...the latest news is that the goblins and their allies have cut Red Rock off from the rest of the Vale. There's going to be an emergency Council meeting tonight."

Dravos' eyes narrow into slits and his expression grows hard at this news. However, he holds his tongue.

Aelwyn wrote:

"What you probably don't know -- and most of the rest of the town doesn't know yet -- is that the monsters seem to be organized. Once again, they are marching under the banner of the Red Hand."

"The Red Hand." Dravos' hand instinctively moves towards his hammer at the mention of the goblinoid scourge from years past. Then, realizing there is no immediate danger, he brings it to rest on his lap before casually moving it to his coin purse and then back up to the table. "It has been too few years since the last time they marched through this valley."

If there is call for a militia, this could be just the opportunity I am looking for, Dravos thinks, momentarily considering how he would look marching at the head of a column of soldiers to liberate Red Rock from the goblins.

Assuming as a local, I know something about the last Red Hand incident - or, apparently, I had my head in the sand. History (1d20=6)

[Kriv the Crafty]

"Hrm, that does sound bad." Kriv murmurs, although the effect is akin to someone gently shaking gravel.

The Red Hand? Let me think...

History (1d20+10=24) Rock on. Any info on the Red Hand's previous campaign and the history of Brindol would be lovely.

[SJ@]

Dravos and Kriv:

Spoiler:

The banner of the Red Hand, also called the Doom Hand or the Red Hand of Doom, was flown over the united goblinoid tribes of the Wyrmsmoke Mountains when they marched as one people and made war on the Elsir Vale a decade ago...

Kriv:

Spoiler:

...Captive Hobgoblins rarely gave up information on their people or their plans; it is from the Goblins that the people of the Vale found out that the tribes considered themselves a nation, the Kulkor Zule they called themselves, the “People of the Dragon.”

These hordes were led by a fierce Warrior-Priest, a Hobgoblin rumored to have inherited the blood of Dragons, called Azarr Kul who seems to have—at some point in his life—abandoned the worship of Maglubiyet, the patron of Hobgoblins, and turned to the worship of the Dread Goddess Tiamat.

No one knows exactly how Azarr Kul became a priest of Tiamat, though it is legend among Dragonborn that an ancient temple to Tiamat is located somewhere to the west of the Vale, dating back to a time when the Vale and the surrounding lands made up the Kingdom of Rhestilor, an ancient Dragonborn Kingdom of which only the ruined City of Rhest remains.

What is sure is that Azarr Kul united to tribes through fear, intimidation, murder, and open warfare, under a new religion as well as a new banner and, having consolidated his power, he raised an army of goblins, hobgoblins, bugbears, and worse to march on the Elsir Vale a decade ago. As is often the case, a small group of adventurers and sell-swords came to the aid of the Vale and were instrumental in recruiting the aid of the Elves of the Blackfens in defending the Vale. They also played a part in cutting off Azarr Kul’s allies from him, and infiltrating his ranks at the pivotal Battle of Brindol.

The stories of how the Heroes of Elsir Vale eventually brought down Azarr Kul splinter and vary at this point, and it seems that none of the heroes stayed in the Vale, though they were offered titles of nobility and land-grants by the current Lord Warden Harrik Orenna—the former Lord of Brindol , Kerden Jarmaath, having died at the Battle of Brindol. Jarmaath’s group of soldiers, the legendary Lion Guard, is a shadow of its former self. The town is now run by a Council that seems more intent to mind its coffers than its defense. Jarmaath’s remains lie in repose under the Hall of Great Valor in Brindol in which the relics of the Battle of Brindol collect dust—the war an unpleasant but more-and-more distant memory for the people of the Elsir Vale.

[Kriv the Crafty]

Kriv ponders and after a little while adds, "Their organization is perhaps no mere seeming. The Kulkor Zule they called themselves, the “People of the Dragon". A trifle bombastic, but you get the idea. Once this land belonged to my people; then it was Rhestilor, but like many of our lands it is no more." He looks grimly before continuing, warming to his theme and seeming less historian and more storyteller, "A band of strangers saved this town in the past, but none knows their final fate; if these current rumours are to be believed, new protectors must come to fight a old threat in a new guise."

He nods to himself, and finishes, "Let us hope that I am merely chasing stories and phantoms. But the shadow of Azarr Kul may yet be cast again."

Feel free to ask Kriv more... or perhaps we can assume he tells them both everything and you can look at the spoiler for just Kriv? Up to you guys and SJ@ how we handle that.

[SJ@]

I'm fine with either, but note my post in the discussion thread. It's not like you won't have the time to play this out a little. If you do end up reading Kriv's spoiler, read both. One is a continuation of the other. BTW, sorry about the whole "Bristol" thing. The town is, and will henceforth always be, called Brindol. Good grief.

[SJ@]

A map of Brindol. Please ignore the reference numbers.

[Aelwyn]

"I seem to remember the dragonfolk living in this region. But why would goblins call themselves 'People of the Dragon' when clearly they are not?"

[Kriv the Crafty]

Kriv leans back in his chair, and places his hand on his chin, "This is where rumour intermingles with fact... The goblins were led by a fierce warrior-priest, a Hobgoblin rumored to have inherited the blood of Dragons (however that may have come about!) *snort*. This Azarr Kul had turned to the worship of Tiamat."

Kriv makes a gesture with his other hand at the mention of the name 'Tiamat', and continues,

"It is not known how Azarr Kul became a devotee of the Five-in-One, though there is a legend among Dragonborn that an ancient temple to the dread goddess is located somewhere to the west of the Vale."

He gestures that way and presents his palms in a gesture of openness, "So, you see," he concludes "Goblins who think themselves dragons."

He chuckles in his gravelly way.

[SJ@]

A new map of the Antler and Thistle. Aelwyn, Kriv, and Ceelie, please post your map coordinates once you settle down.

[Kriv the Crafty]

D15 please, old chap. Same table as Dravos and all that.

[Aelwyn]

C16, across from Dravos and Kriv.

[SJ@]

Antler and Thistle map update.

A young woman, in a bodice that surely must have been designed to reveal her ample bosom, places a trencher of old bread filled with a colorful stew of meat, root vegatables, and spices in front of Dravos. She puts spoon and eating knife next to it.

Her brow elevates a notch when she catches sight of Kriv, but she otherwise betrays no sign of surprise at the sight of the Dragonborn.

"Begin' your pardon to interrupt your conversing an' all," she says, "but would either of you like something to eat or drink?"

[Dravos Stonebrow]

Kriv the Crafty wrote:

"Let us hope that I am merely chasing stories and phantoms. But the shadow of Azarr Kul may yet be cast again."

Dravos fixes the others with his steel gray eyes; his voice begins a low grumble, but works up to a half-shout, "Indeed. In the careless days of my youth as my kin fled before the slaughter of the Red Hand, I swore upon the Hammer and Forge that if the goblins dared again to crawl from their latrine-holes and blight the surface lands with their stench, I would send every last one of them to a bloody ruin."

With that, he slams his tin cup into the table and glances sheepishly about at the other patrons before studying the drops of spilled water as they pool on the table top. "Little did I think I would live to see the day," he concludes in a beard-muffled mutter.

SJ@ wrote:

A young woman, in a bodice that surely must have been designed to reveal her ample bosom, places a trencher of old bread filled with a colorful stew of meat, root vegatables, and spices in front of Dravos. She puts spoon and eating knife next to it.

"Ah, food," Dravos brightens and the flush returns to his cheeks. Contemplating the utensils, he settles on the knife and spears a large chunk of meat. "Not bad, considering. You two should have some. No discussion is worth having on an empty stomach - Ancient Dwarf Saying."

After respectfully allowing the others to order food...

"I have heard a former comrade of mine is in this town. I hoped this would be the kind of place to find her. She is half-elven," he glances at Aelwyn, "and known to consort with a rough crowd."

Leaving an opening for Celia here, if you want it.

[Aelwyn]

SJ@ wrote:

"Begin' your pardon to interrupt your conversing an' all," she says, "but would either of you like something to eat or drink?"

"Cider, bread, and pea soup, if you have it," answers Aelwyn, "otherwise the pottage looks good."

Dravos wrote:

"I have heard a former comrade of mine is in this town. I hoped this would be the kind of place to find her. She is half-elven," he glances at Aelwyn

"Ah, well, we can't all be perfect," she grins at Kriv.

Dravos wrote:

"...and known to consort with a rough crowd."

"Rough for an elf, or rough for a dwarf?" she asks, her eyebrow raised.

[Ben Blackstone]

The man in the long black leather coat looks up from his hand at a half-heard bellow, his hand halfway to his staff before he gets his head around. The Dwarf in the stained apron across the table makes a sound that resembles gravel being rolled in a barrel. HE is chuckling.

"Easy Ben, yeh can't afford to start any fires in here!" Adron chortles in his rough voice. "Unless I mistake it, dat's only the sound of a real man, meanin' a dwarf, makin' a point!" The dwarf grins, the hair around his mouth bristling almost straight up.

The tall human deliberately pulls his hand back from his staff and back to his hand of cards with a wry smirk. After a final glance, he grimaces and folds his cards. "Fold. Again. Unfortunately your right Adron. If I so much as light my pipe in here, even without magic, Earod made it clear that he would have my guts for garters. Especially after last time!"

The man stretches back and casually places his hands behind his head. He throws a wink at the other human at the table. "You must admit though, the look on the Noble's face was worth it!" He says with a smile that is all teeth.

[Celia "Ceelie" Merveaux]

Unbeknownst to those gathered at the table, Ceelie quietly enters the tavern through the back door. With a nod and a wink to the serving staff, she slips into the room in time to hear an old friend's voice rising to nearly a half-shout.

'Dravos,' she grins.

Dravos wrote:

"...and known to consort with a rough crowd."

Ceelie's roguish grin widens with that description as she crosses the room, trailing in the wake of the serving wench. The larger woman's form eclipses the slender half-elf almost entirely, making it easy to sneak up on those gathered at the table.

Aelwyn wrote:

"Rough for an elf, or rough for a dwarf?" she asks, her eyebrow raised.

Ceelie draws one of her numerous throwing knives and casually spins it straight into the table from only a couple of steps away. It lands point down with a muffled thunk, quivering slightly as Ceelie puts a hand on her hip and regards the wood elf.

"Rough enough for anyone," she answers.

As the serving wench starts to pass her again, Ceelie reaches out to snag one of the ale mugs from the girl's tray. Before anyone notices, the half-elf then sits down next to Dravos and takes a sip. After swallowing, she leans over to peer into the dwarf's cup.

"Water again?" she notes, "You're still not living up to all those expectations people have of dwarves and their brewing skills, you know?" Then she nods at the others. "I'm Ceelie. You're friends of Dravos? What kind of business are we looking at...?"

For Rags/Ben:

Spoiler:

At this point, Ceelie is aware of Ben at the next table...and I'll say they've done business in the past (with her "procuring" various items for him...at a price) so she can serve as the catalyst for wrangling him into the group. But give her a moment to take stock of what Dravos and his friends are organizing first. Then she can suggest they include the wizard-for-hire at the next table...

For everyone:

Spoiler:

Also, I didn't have time last night to craft Ceelie's background. For the time being, her physical description matches her avatar. She looks mostly human rather than elven. That means she can more easily hide her half-elven nature most of the time. She's bigger and stronger than your average elf or half-elf as a result. A rough-and-tumble gal. School of hard knocks and all that. Has a fixation with lots of pointy bladed weapons...likes to wield them and throw them...with flair. The rest of her background is probably unknown to you...but I'll write it up eventually. In the interests of meeting Santinj's timetable, I figured I'd go ahead and post something in the game forum.

[Kriv the Crafty]

Kriv grunts at his story being interupted by the girl's knife antics.

"No business, merely tale-spinning," he says by way of reply to her question, with a wave of his hand to indicate the ephemeral nature of their conversation.

[Celia "Ceelie" Merveaux]

Kriv the Crafty wrote:

Kriv grunts at his story being interupted by the girl's knife antics. "No business, merely tale-spinning," he says by way of reply to her question, with a wave of his hand to indicate the ephemeral nature of their conversation.

"Hmmmm...tales weren't what I imagined when I heard you were back in town," Ceelie says, glancing toward Dravos as she takes another drink from her pilfered mug, "I figured you'd found a way to make more coin and thought of sharing the opportunity with your friend...just like old times."

"So by what means did you make the acquaintance of a full-blooded elf and a dragonborn?" she asks and then nods at Kriv, "Assuredly this one attracts a bit of attention. White scales and blue eyes? Can't say as I've seen one of your heritage among the dragon-folk before."

[Kriv the Crafty]

Kriv boggles ever so slightly at the gauche young woman's blunt observation (as he sees it), before replying smoothly, "As you have noticed I possess an unusual coloration; I am what is termed an albino, if you wish to learn more, I can direct you to certain works which delve into the topic. Amongst my people, it is deemed an auspicious sign. I myself have found it to be no especial help or hindrance."

[SJ@]

The buxom young serving-woman, Ellice*, returns after a while with a tray laden with the same bread-trenchers and stew that was served to Dravos. She places these before you whether you asked for one or not, and as she does so, she addresses Aelwyn apologetically.

"Sorry, Mum, but we'll have soup tomorrow," she says, "not peas, as we're passed the season, but an onion and barley that Poppi has me make. The stew's afresh, though. Poppi felled the Elk clean and swift and dressed 'im all reverent-like as he always does. Silent and thankful for the hunt, if you take my meaning." She glances at all of you, her eyes lingering on Kriv once more.

She blushes, and summoning the courage, she says to Kriv, "If you'll excuse me sayin' so, Sir, but I've rarely seen a Dragonkind up close. Your scales are very...pretty. So shiny an' all." Her hand absently falls forward as if she is going to touch Kriv, and then she catches herself, blushes again, and returns to work.

* = Locals will know her by name and that she is Earod's daughter.
---------------------------------
Fina approaches the card game to make sure that you have everything that you need.

[Celia "Ceelie" Merveaux]

Kriv the Crafty wrote:

"Amongst my people, it is deemed an auspicious sign. I myself have found it to be no especial help or hindrance."

Ceelie conjures another half-amused smile at Kriv's response. "In the mountain snow, I imagine it could be quite an advantage," she replies, "Elsewhere...well, maybe more of an attention-getter than one might wish at times..."

SJ@ wrote:

"If you'll excuse me sayin' so, Sir, but I've rarely seen a Dragonkind up close. Your scales are very...pretty. So shiny an' all." Her hand absently falls forward as if she is going to touch Kriv, and then she catches herself, blushes again, and returns to work.

"Point in case..." Ceelie mumbles as she waits until Ellice departs to take another sip of ale, "But it matters not to me. You could be rosy-hued pink and I wouldn't mind."

She shrugs and then dives into helping herself to the bread and stew placed before her...slightly unsure of who's paying for the meal, but not above taking advantage of the offering anyway.

"So, have you folks heard the rumors? All the trouble that's going on...?" she mumbles around a mouthful of food.

[SJ@]

Antler and Thistle map update (again).

Ceelie and Ben: not that it's likely given Ceelie's Stealth modifier, but can you both make a Stealth (Ceelie) v. Perception (Ben) roll to see if Ben notices Ceelie enter? I know I could leave it up to Ben's passive perception, but let's just make it interesting, eh?

[Kriv the Crafty]

Kriv looks at first as though he might tip the table up at the half-elf's cheeky reply, but after half a second instead laughs like someone gargling rocks, "Ha! Indeed, although it would be dire indeed were I to be esconced in a snowfield! I prefer somewhat warmer climes."

As the barmaid tries to touch him, he flinches slightly, and then feels somewhat chastened as she beats a retreat. 'Tis flattering, I suppose... he thinks ruefully.

[Celia "Ceelie" Merveaux]

SJ@ wrote:

...can you both make a Stealth (Ceelie) v. Perception (Ben) roll to see if Ben notices Ceelie enter?

Stealth check... (1d20+8 = 21)

And just for kicks, here's a Thievery check for swiping the mug of ale from the serving girl's tray when she wasn't looking...

Thievery check... (1d20+8 = 18)

Kriv the Crafty wrote:

"Ha! Indeed, although it would be dire indeed were I to be esconced in a snowfield! I prefer somewhat warmer climes."

"Me too..." Ceelie laughs, "I'm all about creature comforts..."

[SJ@]

Celia 'Ceelie' Merveaux wrote:

Stealth check... (1d20+8 = 21)

Earod certainly doesn't seem to notice you sneak in.

[Dravos Stonebrow]

Celia 'Ceelie' Merveaux wrote:

"So by what means did you make the acquaintance of a full-blooded elf and a dragonborn?" she asks and then nods at Kriv, "Assuredly this one attracts a bit of attention. White scales and blue eyes? Can't say as I've seen one of your heritage among the dragon-folk before."

"My first business here was to look into some supplies. I met them both at the market. Despite his demeanor, the dragonborn knows his tools. At least for a non-Dwarf."

"Her," Dravos gestures at Aelwyn, "I think she's looking for someone. Asked if she could go north with me. Being as the mountains are no place for an elf, I agreed."

Hopefully not too presumptuous. Seemed a good thing for a scout to ask, even if she has no intention of actually going.

Celia 'Ceelie' Merveaux wrote:

"So, have you folks heard the rumors? All the trouble that's going on...?" she mumbles around a mouthful of food.

"I came here chasing rumors of trouble. It sounds like I found it. Or it found me. They say the Hand marches in the north and Red Rock is already cut off. Be this true, 'tis sorrowful news indeed." He rests his hand on the haft of his hammer, moving it in a circular pattern as he slowly sips again from the tin cup and returns his attention to the food.

"I should seek news of the Clanhold. Does anyone know that fellow there? Where his loyalties lie?" He gestures towards the card-playing dwarf.

Probably a cue for Steetwise; I have a passive 10.

[Aelwyn]

"So, you got a name, girl?" asks Aelwyn, trying to discern which half of her -- if any -- really contains the elf part. "I might know some of your people."

[SJ@]

Dravos Stonebrow wrote:

"I should seek news of the Clanhold. Does anyone know that fellow there? Where his loyalties lie?" He gestures towards the card-playing dwarf.

Probably a cue for Steetwise; I have a passive 10.

Dravos:

Spoiler:

As a newcomer to Brindol, you do not recognize the Dwarf playing cards. However, you do know that where a Dwarf is from and where his clan loyalties lie are often two different matters. A Dwarf "from Brindol" is as likely to have been born there as, say, the Holds or any other part of the Vale and likely has numerous clan members throughout the Vale anyway. That is to say, all Dwarves from the Vale area descend from one of twelve or thirteen clans (depending on whom you ask) native to the Hammerfist Holds.

Ceelie:

Spoiler:

The Dwarf's name is Adronsius. He is an alchemist, and his potions, elixirs, and admixtures have gotten you out of a spot a time or two. He is sharp and an accomplished gambler. Though happy with his profession, he's always looking for an angle or a cut of the take. He and Ben are known associates and friends.

The other human playing cards is a young man named Hestas or "Hess" for short; he is Adronsius's apprentice. He's likable enough in an uninteresting way. Earnest, hard-working, and loyal to the dwarf, Hess is a bit star-struck around Ben and does not hide it well. In fact, he doesn't hide anything well, and you'd trust him with a secret about as much as a sieve to hold water. It is well known that Adronsius usually stops Hess from losing his whole week's salary when he sits at the table and plays with Ben.