Maeltheron, Reiko, Ariella, Eben, Breunnor. You all find yourselves aboard River Stalker a fine shallow bottomed ferry that frequently sails up and down the Vassa river. All heading to the small town of Bosh after hearing of a great bounty and perilous adventure you come to find the town in ruins. While there are no bodies in the streets it's still plain from the blood stained walls of abandoned houses and storefronts lining the docks that something terrible happened here.
Captain Kors, a haggard man steps out to the railing wearing a grimace "Neer' thought it was this bad..." he says to no one in particular. The crew go about the business of docking River Stalker and within minutes she's been tied off and the gangplanks been lowered.
Ariella glances around at the abandoned scene of carnage. "Sarenrae's blessed light...what happened here?" she says to no one in particular. She immediately disembarks from the boat and starts to look around.
Dotting
Maeltheron unslings his Long Bow so that he is prepared for any attacks. He inspects the surrounding area carefully as he disembarks from the boat.
This looks nothing like the Bosh I remember, what has happened here?
Perception:
You ask what happened here and one of the deck hands unloading the ships says. "They was attacked three days past. They say the darkness came alive and started swallowing people whole." He carries his crate to the dock and sets it down when another man contests "Naw, it was them bandits again. Always stirring up trouble for good folk, if you ask me Lord Brax should just march to the folly and burn em' all"
The men continue to contradict themselves, one fellow says that it was dragons, the other says that the merfolk came from the river on steeds of seaweed. It isn't until the captain comes by to bid you farewell that you get the honest truth. "Ain't no one on this boat who was here when it happened. I suggest you speak to someone who was here if you want the truth of it. I will say that during all my years going up and down this stretch of the Vassa I've never seen anything like it."
Breunnor makes his way off the boat. and firmly stomps the ground
ahhhh! good ta be touchin' solid earth once more
Breunnor takes a look around and half hears the comments of the sailors but rally pays them no mind just idle talk from those that don't know battle he thinks to himself.
Breunnor unhooks his axe Well if there be any more of whatever came through here lets em see what it means to face someone dat will fight back.
The red-haired woman observes the blasted town from the deck of the River Stalker for a moment, her jade green eyes expressionless. She glances up and down river as she pulls a pack onto her shoulder. Vaulting lightly over the gunwales, Rikka lands on the dock in a swish of skirts.
She listens to the opinions of the boatmen, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her katana. Her common speech carries a tint of Saranna, her homeland. "It seems we've missed a battle."
Taking in the other three who have departed the boat Ariella turns to them and smiles, "I take it you three have also come here drawn by the rumors. I am Ariella, humble servant of the Dawnflower. The Captain is right, we should seek out any survivors." Calling out to him she asks, "Good sir Captain, can you please point us in the direction of the town hall?" While waiting for his reply she will mutter a short prayer to Sarenrae under he breath, and her eyes will briefly flash with the rays of the morning sun.
There is nothing within view save the items carried by you and the other travelers.
"Down there a bit," He says as he gestures "Just off on yer left, follow the main road till you hit the market and turn left. If you hit the temple you've gone too far."
The red-haired woman observes the blasted town from the deck of the River Stalker for a moment, her jade green eyes expressionless. She glances up and down river as she pulls a pack onto her shoulder. Vaulting lightly over the gunwales, Rikka lands on the dock in a swish of skirts.
She listens to the opinions of the boatmen, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her katana. Her common speech carries a tint of Saranna, her homeland. "It seems we've missed a battle."
The men of the River Stalker pause for a moment, mouths agape. As the flurry of fabric settles most of them return to their work, several however linger a bit with their gazes, they whisper something amongst themselves and elbow each other. When you look in their direction they quickly avert their eyes and pretend to be busy.
"Thank you." she says to the Captain. "Shall we?" she asks the others as she begins to walk off in the direction the Captain indicated. She will follow his directions, looking for survivors. Once she think they are near the town hall she will call out loudly and clearly, .
The men of the River Stalker pause for a moment, mouths agape. As the flurry of fabric settles most of them return to their work, several however linger a bit with their gazes, they whisper something amongst themselves and elbow each other. When you look in their direction they quickly avert their eyes and pretend to be busy.
Rikka pays the men little mind, having gotten used to drawing unwanted attention - whether due to her ethnicity, her hair, her profession, or her actions.
"Thank you." she says to the Captain. "Shall we?" she asks the others as she begins to walk off in the direction the Captain indicated.
The ronin nods and roams down the street alongside the cleric, taking in the chaotic scene and assessing the damage dispassionately. "Messy."
As Rikka and Ariella make there way through the town, Maeltheron stealthily keeps to the flanks of the group, between the buildings, with his bow drawn. He would rather avoid notice, but he is consistently vigilant as he tracks the group's progress and covers them from nearby.
Perception:
Stealth:
Breunnor busily check some of the carnage scenes for any sign of what manner of creature did this he glances up as the others pass by to proceed further into town.
Breunnor shifts the weight of his axe looking for the perfect grip as he joins the rest into the town.
Perception (search)
So it's very possible they know (or at least know of) each other. Were you thinking of having it be more than that?
"Messy"
The tall, gangly elf gives a wordless (and nearly silent) grunt of agreement as he takes in the scene. Standing up to his near seven feet -- seemingly made entirely of long limbs -- his quick movements give him the look of some long-legged spider creeping in the shadows. You're struck again at how the elf just seems to fade into the background… and not necessarily in an intentional way. He just seems to have the social presence of a wall-fly. For the life of you you can't seem to remember him stringing together more than a handful of words on the entire trip on the River Stalker.
Long, dark bow in hand, the elf crouches down to the ground, nearly-black eyes scanning for signs on the ground. Suddenly he looks like a dying spider -- yards of body parts curled into a surprisingly tight space. His clothes -- in an outdoorsman's style but all in shades of black and dark gray -- certainly don't hurt the illusion.
As he stands back up, he continues scanning the darkness, apparently processing whatever information he gained. He runs a finger in a circle along his dark-gray clad chest, whispering a strange word… which is answered by a soft hum which quickly fades to nothing.
He seems content to wait for someone else to take the lead. Bow ready. Eyes alert. Long limbs tensed.
As you move further and further into town you see more and more signs that people are living here. A chimney smokes off in the distance, a child wailing, the smell of fresh baked bread.
"Thank you." she says to the Captain. "Shall we?" she asks the others as she begins to walk off in the direction the Captain indicated. She will follow his directions, looking for survivors. Once she think they are near the town hall she will call out loudly and clearly, .
As you call that out a man wearing an apron smeared with blood steps out of a shop. Hanging from a wrought iron holder a sign and the words Ground Beef wrapped around a painting of a cow with now legs. The man steps out and gives you a quizzical look.
As Rikka and Ariella make there way through the town, Maeltheron stealthily keeps to the flanks of the group, between the buildings, with his bow drawn. He would rather avoid notice, but he is consistently vigilant as he tracks the group's progress and covers them from nearby.
Perception: 1d20+11
Stealth: 1d20+18
You fade into the alleyways parallel to the party and try to keep sight ahead for trouble, it seems to be quiet at the moment but you can hear faintly in the distance the distinct hum of people.
Breunnor busily check some of the carnage scenes for any sign of what manner of creature did this he glances up as the others pass by to proceed further into town.Perception (search) 1d20+9
It's hard to tell what kind of creature did this but what becomes apparent among all the broken windows and shattered crates and barrels is that there have been no arrows, no cut marks or slashes of any kind on any of the surrounding buildings. If this was humans then they were fighting with their hands because there doesn't seem to be any weapon marks here.
Stealth 1d20 + 12
Survival (to glean info from the carnage/tracks about what happened or what killed the people) 1d20 + 9.
You glean what Bruenor does about what happened here but you also spot a paw print in the streets, it's very faint.
The tall, black-headed elf kneels down low over the paw print, eyes stooping to mere inches away. He doesn't seem to be aware that his muttered words struggle to carry beyond the paw print in front of him. "No weapon marks. But here's a paw."
The tall, black-headed elf kneels down low over the paw print, eyes stooping to mere inches away. He doesn't seem to be aware that his muttered words struggle to carry beyond the paw print in front of him. "No weapon marks. But here's a paw."
Breunnor stops by the elf as he checks the print.
Beasts...Well don't have ta worry bout negotiatin'
Breunnor looks to the Elf: well can ya track em?
"Hmmm... just one?" Rikka surveys the area casually, her tone balancing between disappointment and intrigue. "A single beast that has done all this could be a respectable foe... Or is it just a dog that slipped its leash?"
The tall, black-headed elf kneels down low over the paw print, eyes stooping to mere inches away. He doesn't seem to be aware that his muttered words struggle to carry beyond the paw print in front of him. "No weapon marks. But here's a paw."
From it's paw print it just seems like a normal dog, perhaps a bit larger than you would expect from a domestic dog so maybe it's a stray but nothing out of the ordinary.
From what you can tell, you're lucky that the track has lasted long enough for you to spot it. Judging from the condition it's been several days since this print was first made, any others that must have either been lost to weather or other foot traffic.
The elf looks up, wiping long, limp black hair from his face. "Might be able to track it. They're a few days old. Can't how many or if these were what actually killed anyone." He shrugs, letting the others make whatever conclusions they will.
Only slightly annoyed at potentially wasting a protective spell, he eases his hold on his bow as he straightens to his full, gangly height. "Might be worth asking around about. Especially if this is related to all the rumors." It's clear from his tone that he expects that particular job belongs to someone else.
Rikka grunts and nods in the direction of the cleric who is about to engage the butcher. "Let's see what the Dawnflower's servant has learned." Without waiting for an answer, she wanders further along the roadway.
It's more likely that Maeltheron knows him as "that weird kid". But if you're interested in them having a warmer relationship than that, i'm game.
Just let me know.
Alenthyn shoulders his bow and follows -- his long gait allowing him to easily keep up with the shorter woman.
Maeltheron seems to materialize from the shadowy side alley at the party's forward flank. His Long Bow is out, and he moves like a cat. He quickly moves to Rikka, Alenthyn, and Bruennor.
He nods to Alenthyn and speaks lowly...
I hear people faintly up ahead in the distance. I will return to the shadows to watch our flank while you engage the people ahead.
With that, the Elf gracefully heads down the nearest alley.
Ariella smiles radiantly at the butcher, "Good morning to you Master Butcher, my name is Ariella. I see that something terrible has happened here, can you tell me what transpired? My companions and I came here to investigate rumors of shadow monsters and see if we could do anything about them." Her kind smile never fades, and she exudes grace and caring.
Ariella smiles radiantly at the butcher, "Good morning to you Master Butcher, my name is Ariella. I see that something terrible has happened here, can you tell me what transpired? My companions and I came here to investigate rumors of shadow monsters and see if we could do anything about them." Her kind smile never fades, and she exudes grace and caring.
The butcher wipes his hands on his apron, reaches over to the ladle hanging from a bucket on his porch and takes a drink of water before saying "Well, they ain't rumors no more. Bout two days past they came through well after dark, swept through the town like a plague they did. I expect if we didn't have a few dozen of your folk we woulda been the ones in the ground instead of them boys, gods have mercy on them."
Dipping the ladle back into the water he takes another drink, after finishing half he turns the ladle over his head and runs the water it through his hair to cool himself off. "They're still burring them that died that night, as a matter a fact I was about to head over there myself. Just finished some fine cuts for the workers, they gots some stoves set up over there and we was gonna have ourselves a spot of lunch."
"Oh that's terrible...you say "they" can you describe the creatures? Perhaps you can tell me on the way to the burning sight. I'd be happy to say a prayer for the dead. Are there any wounded from the battle?" she says, walking over to slip her small hand under the butcher's elbow. Now arm in arm she smiles and gestures for him to lead the way.
He shrugs off your arm "As nice as it would be to have a pretty thing like you on my arm miss I'm afraid that I have to carry the meat, I've got a dozen freshly cut sides of beef but no wheelbarrow, someone ran off with it in the confusion."
He turns to everyone "Do you folks mind lending me a hand? There's a good lunch in it fer ya if you help me carry all this food."
As he gets everything settled for the walk to the square he continues answering your questions "I didn't get a great look at em, by the time they was upon us we was already bein led to the square by old harris, he ran the smithy in the market. Sadly they killed Harris and a half dozen others when the barricades fell, I did catch a sight of one of em then." He shivers from the recollection "Them was demons if I ever saw one, all black they was with big white eyes, like the...like the full moon, all big and white. Never saw anythin so terrifying in all my life."
Rikka folds her jacket neatly and stows it in her pack, sure this will be dirty work. "I can most likely carry a couple slabs for you."
Without missing a beat she replies, "Certainly, what can I carry?" Doing whatever the butcher asks her. If the others fail to help, she will glare at them until they do.
The butcher leads you inside and gestures to the stack of beef wrapped in wax paper.
Silently thankful for the wax paper which will hopefully save her dress, Rikka hefts as much of the beef as she can carry, piling it up on her shoulders.
Ariella will grab one piece daintily by the edges, leaving the rest for stronger and less clean individuals.
Rikka glances at the priestess' squeamish handling of the meat and catches her attention. "Honest toil not among your vows, sister?" It is more a curious question than a rebuke; the red-head has little experience with Sarenrae's chosen.
Ariella will titter, before responding, "I suppose you're right. I'd hoped to keep these robes clean for a while longer, they're new. But in the end it doesn't matter." She will pile on a couple more pieces. Still trying to remain clean despite her words.
Maeltheron watches the activities from the shadows as members of the group help the butcher.
Now we are pack mules?
Alenthyn watches his fellow elf stalk back into the shadows. It had been surprising to run into Maeltheron on the boat trip, but not as unpleasant as he'd have thought. He'd always felt a bit more comfortable around the quiet elf. Maybe it was that they shared a talent for a few tools and arts. Maybe it was the fact that -- as a young elf -- Maeltheron had to overcome some social awkwardness as well. Regardless, there was a part of Alenthyn that was encouraged knowing the quiet elf was out there in the shadows.
Coming back to the present, he stoops to pick up a load , all the while mentally reconciling the man's anecdotal experience against the evidence on the ground.
So does the butcher mis-remember? People in emotionally stressful situations often bear undependable memories of the events. Is this butcher even qualified to determine if the attackers were, in fact, demons? If they were demons, did they leave the prints? Or are the prints related to the 'demons' at all?
"I've not personally dealt with.." he gives the butcher a poorly-disguised look of skepticism, "… demons myself. Do any of you have experience with such? Tell me, Master Butcher, was this demon canine in general shape?"
The butcher picks up the last of the beef and heads outside, waiting for all of you to exit before locking his door. "Not sure what I can tell you bout it, I saw what I saw. I ain't no expert or nothing but they looked like monsters, four legs, big teeth, black tentacles coming out and such."
After a short walk you find yourselves at the remnants of what was once an outdoor market, looking around you see maybe fifty people. Numerous stalls and tents that once housed goods now act as a makeshift hospital, off a ways past the edge of town there seems to be some people digging graves on a hill. Off to your right there's a huge grill, a forty foot line of unmortared brick with grills resting in their center. Several things are already on the grill it seems, fish from the river, a couple pots of beans, and some but very few vegetables.
As the butcher enters the square he's greeted and waved at by a number of folks, many others eye the beef hungrily. He says "Set them down over there, I'll get to work on cookin these monsters. It may take a bit to get em all the way through, you may want to go talk to some of the fellers over in the sick tents, thems the ones was fightin. Couple of them might know more."
As the group approaches the gathering, maeltheron again materializes out of thin air as he slings his Long Bow and puuls his hood back from his cloak.
So, what gives, Alenthyn?
Rikka places the load of meat near the grill and nods politely to the butcher - job done. She glances at the shoulders of her dress to ensure they aren't smeared with beef blood before pulling her jacket from her pack and putting it back on. She smooths her skirts and repositions her katana as she strides over to the two elves - invited or not.
"Hopefully, bringing lunch will loosen some tongues here. The butcher thinks we'll get the best accounting of what happened at the tent for the wounded there. I think a quick examination of the fallen may also be informative."
Her steady glance switches between the two tall men, looking for reactions - either to her opinion or her abrupt presence.
Elves are a curious race, indeed.
Breunnor straggles up trying to keep pace with the taller folks. He soon joins the others at the gathering.
Taking stock as to where is new companions all head off to Brunnor senses two things of import to him...
Ale, and food. Brunnor makes his way to the grill.
Well lookin like ya be cookin a fine meal dont suppose ya got ale to wash dat meat down wit? Ifn ya don't then I wouldn't be a proper dwarf witout offern' some a mine!
Breunnor pulls the als from his belongings at taps the container.
Maeltheron looks to Alenthyn, then turns to Rikka and smiles broadly.
Ok, Rikka, lead the way to the fallen. I'll join you.
She nods and says in Elvish, <"You have my thanks."> before turning on her heel and heading over to examine one or two of the dead.
"So, what gives, Alenthyn?"
Alenthyn gives a slow recoil from the phrase out of the other elf's lips, breaking into a shy and awkward grin -- simultaneously dashing the stereotype that elves all have straight teeth. "I've never really understood that phrase. You may be hanging out with too many humans." He turns at the approaching Rikka, "No offense, of course."
""Hopefully, bringing lunch will loosen some tongues here. The butcher thinks we'll get the best accounting of what happened at the tent for the wounded there. I think a quick examination of the fallen may also be informative."
Before the other two can leave, Alenthyn rounds out the report to Maeltheron. "The butcher thinks he saw one of the attackers. Says 'it's a devil if he's ever seen one'." Alenthyn shrugs, "Not sure he's ever seen one. Not sure how his story reconciles with the canine prints I found on the ground. Then we brought the meat here."
Alenthyn is happy to follow the two over to the injured fighters, raising his eyebrows in surprise as Rikka responds in elven. He continues in kind "You speak Elven? Have you spent much time in the north?"
As they walk, he gives a nod back to the other human priest as well as the dwarf. As they arrive at the soldiers, the gangly elf once again fades into silence, hoping Rikka and Maeltheron will take the lead with the humans.