Ragnvald sits at the table and cheerfully helps himself to the breakfast the women have made. "I prefer to be known as "Flee!" I heard it alot as chieftain as I cut down the local militia. I see no reason to tarry here. My blade aches to slake its thirst in carnage."
Jeminda rolls her eyes, arches an eyebrow and says
Did it ever...
then she stops, shakes her head and closes her eyes again, rubing her temples.
Delilah just shrugs and says
The route to take is easy: Leave Magnimar on the Lost Coast Road and follow it until Sandpoint. The journey to the east and pass Devil's Platter. Behind it the Ravenmoor will soon begin.
Well all, unless anyone has any other business here in Magnimar, I suppose we should start our journey. Do we want to purchase horses and ponies? I know that Attalas is a little big, but it would likely make the trip easier for the rest of us.
I thank Jeminda and Delilah for their hospitality and begin to prepare to leave, not that we have much.
Yes, some ponies would be a fine way to travel!
Looking at Mobo for a minute.
Hmmm, this is a big city. I wonder whether they would have a riding dog or trained wolf for you.
Or, if he is willing, you could ride on Attalas' shoulder. It would make for a great lookout with your sharp eyes. And give you a great place from which to aim your boom sticks.
"War Horses would be preferable." Ragnvald says. "They don't bolt and run when you get ambushed."
Jeminda shrugs and says
Well, I gave all the money I had...but...umm travelling on foot is said to be good for your cardial system?!
Her sister just shakes her head and looking at Mobo adds
Arnolf always said: Goblins hate horses and dogs...aren't wolves also dogs? So, do goblins ride at all?
Horses and dogs also make for great snacks.
Delilah furrows her brows
Goblin dogs...
But before the discussion can drfit away further, Jeminda says
Well, I think it's time to go now, really. I show you the way to the Lost Coast Road.
With that she gets up and leads you out of her sister's home.
Sneaky goblin not play nice;
To make more fun with elf of ice;
Tie her shoes together quick;
Then she'll fall 'n mud 'll stick;
For now the road we trek;
Find the village that's a wreck;
Get the tax man, bring him home;
Hope he's not beneath the loam;
Now off we go with song and dance;
I hope the elf's got clean pants.
Nymeria raises an eyebrow at the crude songs, but lets them pass. She practices some magic while she waits, turning the water in her waterskin to ice, then back again.
Leaving Delilah's house and walking through the clean streets of Magnimar you wonder how well your party will work together in the Varisian wilderness. None of you looks like someone with a great knowledge of animals or plants...
As you reach the impressive white Liongate of the city - the one that opens to the lands north of Magnimar, you see the Lost Coast Road ahead of you. Massive, thousands of years old flagstones, and for a moment you wonder how many people have walked this road before and have never returned.
Jeminda seems to sense your thoughts and says
Oh well, while tax-collectors are not very popular, they only rarely get killed...more often they are just tortured.
Torture . . . murder . . . I am familiar with both. Saw a lot of that growing up, both are fairly easy if you know what you are doing.
I look at the rest of the group.
Well, we are on the road, lets just hope there are no courthouses that we have to work with. The last one was a flaming disaster.
"No, now we get to deal with Taxes. Sounds like it'll be a riot." Rangvald pauses. "Followed by property damage and wanton destruction."
Did I misunderstand you. I think you said "it'll be a riot." I thought you would have said that "you'd cause a riot."
"Saying I'd cause it would imply the possibility of failure." Ragnvald says matter of factly. "As chieftain I did not demand taxes. I demanded service,and failing that, tribute. If they did not provide either they were either enemies to be slain or people too poor to bother robbing. Those who were rich benefited from being in my service or being left alone to do as they please. Those who were poor were simply left be. Taxes are just a means of which a ruler can claim payment for a service not seen or understood. Gorum demands you fight. You either fight to take or fight to defend what's yours. If you are unwilling or unable to fight then never expect to grow stronger, or wealthier. Taxes are just a means for those to attempt to take from afar with rules and laws. NEver earning. Never deserving. Weak. Cowardly."
Ragnvald walks briskly as if the physical exertion of last night was merely a warm up for what's to come.
Nymeria strolls along the road, breathing in the air and looking around care-free.
On the first day of your journey you enjoy the warming rays of Sarenrae while you walk down the picturesque Lost Coast Road. You meet dozens of travellers and wagons and there is a lot of traffic on the road. Most people greet you friendly with the here-common words "Desna may guide you through your dreams" and only some armed patrols from Magnimar eye you a bit suspiciously - however, no one challenges or stops you.
And so you reach a nice inn in the evening. A gilded plate is hung up above the front door that depicts a dice cup and some rolling dice. On a bench next to the door sits an old man, a wooden bowl between his legs in which some coins rest. He seems to be blind but as you draw nearer he greets you and says
Weary travellers be welcome in the Lucky Die, Desna may guide you through your dreams and yon your travels.
I give the old man five silver pieces.
Turning quietly to Mobo - Be nice, he looks too old and grizzly to taste good.
Well all, unless we want to be sleeping under the stars, I think that this looks like a decent place to rest our legs.
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From 'neath his poncho Mobo pulls out a piece of gold, and what appears to be a mummified rat, and places them in the man's bowl.
"Teeth outside, knives inside. Mobo wants comfy bed if we get stabbed."
Mobo opens the door to let the others head inside, and he'll slip in somewhere in the middle, hat down low.
Heading inside, I walk up to the innkeeper.
Good evening my friend. We have had a long and weary travel from Magnimar, and have many more miles to cover tomorrow. We are interested in what accommodations your fine establishment may have.
We would welcome private, or shared rooms. However, as you can see, some of my companions are not quite of the size to fit in normal beds. Per chance do you have a common room which we could rent that would have enough space for us all?
Diplomacy:
Ragnvald takes in the sights of the place ignoring the exchange between goblin and demon. Off handedly he wonders how the beds will hold up to Attalas's bulk.
The innkeeper - a lady of at least 60 years but with still flaming red hair is cleaning a table close to the door as you enter. There is a split second during which doubt flashes over her face, but then she smiles and says
Welcome, welcome, come in please. We have fine rooms with large beds, everyone will revel in Desna's arms tonight!
She then offers you rooms for 2gp each with dinner and a snack for breakfast. The rooms are clean and tidy and the bed really seems sturdy enough for Attalas.
I thank the innkeeper and pay for the rooms. Once our gear is stored, I head down and join Mobo for a drink also listening for any interesting news.
Diplomacy:
The inn only fills up very slowly and when Jez and Mobo return to the taproom to have a drink at the bar, only some local farmers and two groups of travelling merchants are sitting here.
A fire crackles in the large fireplace and combinded with the dark wooden furniture gives the place a cozy atmosphere.
Jez has a short talk with some of the farmers who warn her of the Sandpoint Devil. A horse-like creature with a malformed head and bat wings which is said to hunt in every full moon night. While none of them has actually seen it, everyone pretends to have at least one family member who was killed by the monster...
I don't think I even need a sense motive to know that they are all full of it. Unless there is anything interesting, we will turn in at a reasonable hour before Ragnvald comes down and attempts to demonstrate slaughter techniques to the farmers.
Do the merchants have any word of the road going forward? Any bandits? Humanoid raiders? Or other people/monsters which can double as snacks?
The friendly merchants just laugh about the stories of the Sandpoint devil, instead of warning you of a ominous monster, they tell you about a really existing problem with goblins. The Birdcruncher and Licktoad goblins have recovered from the losses they suffered from a band of adventurers from Sandpoint some years ago and now terrorize the Lost Coast Road again.
Well, me and my friends plan on traveling some of those roads. If these Licktoad and Birdcrunchers wish to allow us to pass unmolested, or wish to speak with us. We shall leave them alone. On the other hand, should they feel it is necessary to attack a well equipped group of travelers, then what happens is what happens.
Do you per chance have a map showing where these two tribes are based? I have a friend who has long studied goblins and would be interested in knowing exactly who these goblins are. As I say this, I turn and grin at Mobo.
After a small bit Ragnvald is indeed downstairs demonstrating his favorite slaughtering techniques with a butter knife in one hand and a beer in the other. All while telling loud and amusing stories of past blood duels, conquests, and old tales his father would tell him.
The innkeeper hands the merchant an old stained map and the man points at two areas and draws circles with his index finger.
Here - south of the Churlwood and then around the forlorn hamlet of Ravenmoor - that's the home of the goblins...
Attalas half pays attention to all this business about maps and circles.
"I don't need to go to any Goblins home, I git a perfectly good one right here" he points at Mobo, a slight look of bewilderment on his face. The look fades away again when he remembers his ale.
The merchants back away at bit and now everyone stares at Mobo. The room is totally silent, only the fire crackles behind you.
Attalas seems quite happy with the now reduced chatter in the place.
"Why you staring at my friend? Thats a bit rude" he gently asserts.
The merchant who was explaining the map just stammers
Heh..yeah...uh...if you say so, sir! The next round is on me!
The innkeeper quickly fills some tankards and the other tavern guestes now do their best to avoid staring at Mobo or Attalas.
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Ever so slowly, Mobo's green hand comes up from behind his poncho. Mobo reaches to his face, and sticks out his tongue and gives the merchant the akanbe gesture.
Sense Motive:
Seeing the responses. My friends, have you ever met or heard of an evil human. Perhaps one so depraved that they worshipped Asmodeus, Lamashtu or Urgathoa. Perhaps you have met elven or dwarves bandits on these very roads.
Well, you have my word of honor that just as there are evil humans, elves and dwarves, there are likewise good hearted goblins and ogres. After all, if these two were evil, you would likely find yourselves roasting over a spit right now, not sitting and enjoying a mug of ale.
Now then, we truly interested in any dangers on the road ahead. As I said, we are quite capable of defending ourselves, but prefer to know whether there are dangers before we are surprised on the road. We would provide you with the same information had we encountered any mischief on the road toward Magnimar. Fortunately, the city guardsmen keep the roads quite safe closer to the capital.
Diplomacy:
[ooc]Yeah: Jez is a trendsetter! I was a bit confused by the girl who had those bracers made of gun-pieces?! Oh yeah, Sasha Gradiva is her name...weird...even weirder: Nicki Minaj and the pope...oh dear...[/b]
@ Jez: The guests seem too shocked by the revelation that attalas is an ogre to do something stupied. These people are just frightened now.
The "spokespersoN" of the guests quickly assures you that
we all know that goblins can be very friendly and have great...umm...ideas. We love our goblin neighbours and also our ogre friends from the mountains - sadly we have to leave now. It's getting dark and...yes...dark...so...
Slowly all guests rise and pack their things...
Attalas simply resumes his quiet drinking, and obvious enjoyment of the now much quieter ambiance.
Shaking my head and sighing. Hmmm, I think that we need to get you all disguises of some sort until these people learn to accept the differences in others. It is so sad.
I finish the drink and order dinner if there is anything to be had. I make sure that we order more normal food for Mobo and Attalas - no pickled hobgoblin toes today.
Ragnvald laughs about the farmers nervousness over the goblin cutting the tension and going back to his drink.
Nymeria sits and sips slowly at her wine, observing the scene with interest.
Perception:
Now that the other customers have gone, it soon becomes a bit boring and you decide to venture into Desna's realm.
The next morning is a typical one for the Lost Coast. Small clouds race over the firmament and the sun sparkles on the gentle ocean.
The innkeeper has already started to prepare a breakfast and as you walk down into the tap room, the blind man from the door is already there cleaning the tables with an old piece of cloth.
Attalas looks at the breakfast.
"Hmmm what are the others eating?"