"Oh......a....NeeKrowmauncer....." he pronounces, somewhat qixotically.
"One false meal and I could be transported into a veritable abyss of torment!"
"Indeed, the outhouse here doesn't appear very hygienic," comments the dark haired cleric. "I am Castiel of Fangwood." His eyes narrow. "And you're not a necromancer are you?"
"...nun...nen.....necro.....mauncer....." babbles the keeper of the carriagehouse tavern, to nobody in particklar.
<Eyes Erebus with suspicion.>
the guy with the dead gnome is freaked....heh heh.
"Oh......a....NeeKrowmauncer....." he pronounces, somewhat qixotically.
The skinny man draws himself up until he stares down the stuttering innkeep, dark eyes flashing.
"Sir, you insult me! I have no traffic with the necromantic arts! I would no more root about in the graves of dead persons than I would consume your stew! I don't know how the arts of hospitality are practiced here, but it usually behooves an inkeeper eager to earn a coin to keep a civil tounge in his head!
The skinny man's frame shakes, and cords stand out on his neck.
"...nun...nen.....necro.....mauncer....." babbles the keeper of the carriagehouse tavern, to nobody in particklar.
spot, dc 10
if you get the spot dc10,
know local dc10 or know religion dc15
"One false meal and I could be transported into a veritable abyss of torment!"
"Indeed, the outhouse here doesn't appear very hygienic," comments the dark haired cleric. "I am Castiel of Fangwood." His eyes narrow. "And you're not a necromancer are you?"
Dr. Erebus turns to the new voice
"INDEED not, my good knight. I have fought many a battle against foul practicioners who would pervert the subtle art of conjuring to blasphemous ends! Why that is why .."
The lanky man pauses
"Forgive me, but I am loath to expound further in this public place."
"Oh......a....NeeKrowmauncer....." he pronounces, somewhat qixotically.The skinny man draws himself up until he stares down the stuttering innkeep, dark eyes flashing.
"Sir, you insult me! I have no traffic with the necromantic arts! I would no more root about in the graves of dead persons than I would consume your stew! I don't know how the arts of hospitality are practiced here, but it usually behooves an inkeeper eager to earn a coin to keep a civil tounge in his head!
The skinny man's frame shakes, and cords stand out on his neck.
"of course not, sir." he holds his fist up, nonchalantly; his thumb inside his fist in such a way that if he actually punched somebody he'd break his fist.
You can try for the other spoiler with a know local or religion roll.
the barkeep also places the gold from Nigel on a table and draws a ring of salt around it.
You can try for the other spoiler with a know local or religion roll.
Dr Erebus notes the ring of salt around his gold piece
"Are you deliberately trying to insult me, innkeep? I, who studied under the wisest in far Absalom, member of the Order of the Golden Stag, keeper of the Seven Sigils of Saranath? I spend my life's essence protecting this world from the innumerable perils that lurk beyond the borders of your narrow perception! And you insult me with peasant charms to ward evil as if I was some boggart come to sour your milk? HOW DARE YOU!"
The lanky stranger seems to be working himself into a bit of a froth
"And just....how do I know that that's not hellmoney, sir? You seem to know a lot about neakrowmauncing for somebody who isn't one. I'll have you know, I paid my dispensation to....the inquisitors."
<When Erebus turns his back Wod tries to sneak George back into his pouch.>
<When Erebus turns his back Wod tries to sneak George back into his pouch.>
Dr. Erebus turns to the new voice
"INDEED not, my good knight. I have fought many a battle against foul practicioners who would pervert the subtle art of conjuring to blasphemous ends! Why that is why .."
The lanky man pauses
"Forgive me, but I am loath to expound further in this public place."
“Good to know,” nods Castiel. He then stands and turns to the innkeeper. “Barkeep! The gentleman has told you he is not a practitioner of the dark arts; to continue in your superstitious insistence insults him, and insults me. I will not spend the night under a roof of insults! Please, offer the good doctor an apology.” Castiel turns back to Nigel. “For my part sir, I apologise for any insult I may have offered.”
<When Erebus turns his back Wod tries to sneak George back into his pouch.>
“Good to know,” nods Castiel. He then stands and turns to the innkeeper. “Barkeep! The gentleman has told you he is not a practitioner of the dark arts; to continue in your superstitious insistence insults him, and insults me. I will not spend the night under a roof of insults! Please, offer the good doctor an apology.” Castiel turns back to Nigel. “For my part sir, I apologise for any insult I may have offered.”Dr. Erebus turns to the new voice
"INDEED not, my good knight. I have fought many a battle against foul practicioners who would pervert the subtle art of conjuring to blasphemous ends! Why that is why .."
The lanky man pauses
"Forgive me, but I am loath to expound further in this public place."
"But,...you said he was a neekrowmauncer, father, I...."
"I'm sorry sir," to Nigel,thumbs still in fists.
“Good to know,” nods Castiel. He then stands and turns to the innkeeper. “Barkeep! The gentleman has told you he is not a practitioner of the dark arts; to continue in your superstitious insistence insults him, and insults me. I will not spend the night under a roof of insults! Please, offer the good doctor an apology.” Castiel turns back to Nigel. “For my part sir, I apologise for any insult I may have offered.”"But,...you said he was a neekrowmauncer, father, I...."
"I'm sorry sir," to Nigel,
thumbs still in fists.
Nigel bows to the priest.
"Thank you, 'father'. I apologize that I didn't recognize you as a member of an ordained order. It must have been the distraction of certain loutish small-minded individuals wiggling digits at me."
He turns to stare at the innkeep
"Does the word of this cleric put your microcephallic mind at rest concerning my veracity, innkeep?"
“My heart, soul and sword arm belong to Iomedaue,” Castiel replies proudly.
"Sir, you insult me! I have no traffic with the necromantic arts! I would no more root about in the graves of dead persons than I would consume your stew! I don't know how the arts of hospitality are practiced here, but it usually behooves an inkeeper eager to earn a coin to keep a civil tounge in his head!
The skinny man's frame shakes, and cords stand out on his neck.
"of course not, sir." he holds his fist up, nonchalantly; his thumb inside his fist in such a way that if he actually punched somebody he'd break his fist.
You can try for the other spoiler with a know local or religion roll.
Aline watches the newcomer with half an eye, still concentrating on the much needed dinner. The innkeeper's gesture causes a raised eyebrow - the innkeeper is clearly very scared. Castiel quickly has the situation in hand however, and Alinya is confident that there is no-one in Ustalav who calls themself 'Nigel the Necromancer'.
"Ah, Nigel, good to meet you. I am Alinya - will you share a drink with us? What brings you here on such a night?"
He turns to stare at the innkeep"Does the word of this cleric put your microcephallic mind at rest concerning my veracity, innkeep?"
...mutters...."killafessorkim..." then makes a show of busying himself, washing mugs in steaming water.
Edwin observes the newcomer's theatrical arrival, and settles into his seat as if to watch a play. He observes the inkeeps' strangely held fists, and his subsequent salt ward, and half a dozen tales spring to mind of local superstitions he has heard of that will supposedly protect one from the evil eye,... or possibly evil money as the case may be. He also observes as Wod subtly (for a large, green humanoid about as dexterous as a double-loaded wagon), place George back in his pouch. But wisely decides to pretend he didn't.
"Be at ease good inkeep!" Edwin says, standing up and joining the conversation.
"Master Nigel is indeed a caster and summoner, but has no traffic with necromancy or the undead. At least not recently." He states with conviction.
"His fingernails are clean and free of dirt, difficult to maintain if your profession involves digging up bodies, and his fingertips lack the stains of the chemicals and potions associated with the animation of corpses. He has a slight hunch to his shoulders which usually comes from studying texts for long periods of time, and lacks the physical build for one who engages in physical activity such as procuring bodies. Also, one of his belt pouches is untied, revealing a Varisian Spirit Cord, a specialized focus item used in the summoning and control of earthly and otherworldly creatures. It's presence indicates his specialty is Conjuration." Edwin points out as if it is obvious.
"I am sorry to hear about your delicate disposition sir. Although I suspect it has more to do with your stress levels than with any residual effects of dealing with extra-planar entities. If you'd like, I can show you a couple of relaxation techniques. It would do wonders for your digestion." He offers kindly, then proffers the newcomer a hand.
"Edwin Drood, at your service." He says with a tight smile.
Darias peers intently at Nigel, and then relaxes. He seems to think for a moment, then peers intently at everyone else in the room. He then shrugs, and continues gazing at his shoes.
<Wod narrows his eyes and wraps his arm around his bucket protectively... >
"Ah, Nigel, good to meet you. I am Alinya - will you share a drink with us? What brings you here on such a night?"
Nigel turns to the lady and gives her a courtly bow
"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Alinya! I would be happy to share some company on such a raw and unforgiving night. It is such a treat to find refined company in such a plebean setting!"
He smoothes his cloak and unclasps it. hanging it on a peg to dry
"I have travelled to this rather dreary setting to bid farewell to an old mentor of mine. Professor Lorrimor, my mentor, recently passed."
Nigel sighs
"He was a great influence on me in my early days! What an earth-shaking intellect the man had! It is a sorrow that he has passed to Pharasma's Realm. May he be judged kindly."
"Edwin Drood, at your service." He says with a tight smile.
Dr Erebus clasps the proferred hand.
"A most kindly offer Master Drood. Perhaps I will take you up on your offer at some future date. Your powers of observation are quite acute. Are you a member of the constabulary?"
“A night of coincidences,” Castiel comments. “As it so happens all of us at this table are on our way to Professor Lorrimor’s funeral too … whoever would have thought it?”
The cleric claps Darias on the shoulder. “Cheer up. You’ve got a table full of people who knew the man in some way right here, and I’m sure they’ll be more at the funeral. Maybe one of us – or them – can tell you what you wanted to know about him.”
“A night of coincidences,” Castiel comments. “As it so happens all of us at this table are on our way to Professor Lorrimor’s funeral too … whoever would have thought it?”
Nigels rather furry eyebrows raise on his domed forehead
"Indeed, that is a strange coincedence."
He pauses
"Though not as strange as it would seem. After all, the good professor was a polymath and a bit of a vagabond scholar. I am sure he had acquaintences all about Varisia and the Inner Sea."
He looks about
"How did you all know the good professor?"
"He was a great influence on me in my early days! What an earth-shaking intellect the man had! It is a sorrow that he has passed to Pharasma's Realm. May he be judged kindly."
"I am sure the Lady of Graves will guide him kindly through the Boneyard and on to his rewards. And yes, it is a sorrow indeed. I knew him only through his letters, and envy those who met him in person. What was he like, as you remember him?"
"I am sure the Lady of Graves will guide him kindly through the Boneyard and on to his rewards. And yes, it is a sorrow indeed. I knew him only through his letters, and envy those who met him in person. What was he like, as you remember him?"
"He was a great influence on me in my early days! What an earth-shaking intellect the man had! It is a sorrow that he has passed to Pharasma's Realm. May he be judged kindly."
Nigel gets a faraway look in his dark eyes
"Ah, he was a giant among scholars. Worldly-wise, yet able to hold converse on the most esoteric of matters. He was most patient with the youth he taught, including myself. I met him while studying in Taldor, my home nation. His example inspired me to travel and increase my studies to many places."
Nigel gets a faraway look in his dark eyes
"Ah, he was a giant among scholars. Worldly-wise, yet able to hold converse on the most esoteric of matters. He was most patient with the youth he taught, including myself. I met him while studying in Taldor, my home nation. His example inspired me to travel and increase my studies to many places."
As the evening goes on Alinya listens in rapt attention to Nigel's stories of the Professor. And pesters Myron, Edwin, Castiel, and anyone else with first-hand stories to tell.
Eventually though her eyes start to droop, her head nods, and she excuses herself, making for bed.
"Early coach tomorrow. See you for breakfast," she yawns.
"Good sir," asks Darais of Dr Erebus, "Were you acquanted with my father, Adaric Bleakstone. He and the Professor often travelled together - were you a part of their party?"
"Good sir," asks Darais of Dr Erebus, "Were you acquanted with my father, Adaric Bleakstone. He and the Professor often travelled together - were you a part of their party?"
"Adaric...Adaric, ahh yes! He was often with the professor on his travels, yes? As a student and ersatz bodyguard as I recall?"
Wod:
Those guys....they're smart,...but they're not smart enough. YOU know better than they do, Wod. YOU know I'm not dead. There's no blood....don't lettem bury me. We got stuff ta do."
Feel free to make stuff up, you, anybody; it's all good. I don't mind players framing the game, it makes it easier on me. (J/K)
Just no pet efreeti or nothin....
Wod:
** spoiler omitted **
DM Heathy:
<Wod finishes stuffing the gnome back in the sack. He breaks out in a sweat and begins fidgeting nervously.>
Eventually though her eyes start to droop, her head nods, and she excuses herself, making for bed."Early coach tomorrow. See you for breakfast," she yawns.
Alinya:
You drift off to sleep. Your dreams are troubling, furtive. You're in the woods, walking in the blackness of night. You don't seem to be doing the walking though. You're asleep, yet strangely you realize what's happening. It's as if you're seeing it through another's eyes somehow. A voice in your head....it compels you forward. It made complete sense what it was saying but you can't remember its words upon awakening. Just a dream, about walking in the woods, as if you were a puppet.
Wod:
** spoiler omitted **
DM Heathy:** spoiler omitted **
<Wod finishes stuffing the gnome back in the sack. He breaks out in a sweat and begins fidgeting nervously.>
Wod:
As the evening goes on Alinya listens in rapt attention to Nigel's stories of the Professor. And pesters Myron, Edwin, Castiel, and anyone else with first-hand stories to tell.
“Well, I only knew the Professor briefly in person; upon our first meeting I saved his life. You see, I was with a patrol of one of the endless battlefields on the border between Lastwall and Ustalav. We guard not just against orc incursions that manage to get past the Belkzen front, but also against dead, who do not always rest easily in such tainted ground. The professor was leading an archaeological dig of part of the battlefield, when a group of zombies erupted from the ground ...”
Castiel goes on to give a blow by blow account of how his quick reactions and undead slaying skills (apparently single-handedly is the implication) saved the professor from an early demise at the hands of the unquiet dead.
"... guard not just against orc incursions that manage to get past the Belkzen front, but also against dead, who do not always rest easily in such tainted ground... "
<Wod jerks his head up and follows Castiel intently with a look of great strain...>
DM Heathy
You drift off to sleep. Your dreams are troubling, furtive. You're in the woods, walking in the blackness of night. You don't seem to be doing the walking though. You're asleep, yet strangely you realize what's happening. It's as if you're seeing it through another's eyes somehow. A voice in your head....it compels you forward. It made complete sense what it was saying but you can't remember its words upon awakening. Just a dream, about walking in the woods, as if you were a puppet.
Oh cool ... also creepy. Alinya's gonna be cranky in the morning. I'll wait for the conversation downstairs to wind up before posting again. Good group, eh?
Alinya:
Dreams for creepiness and foreshadowing ftw!!!
“Oh, no offense meant Wod,” Castiel eyes the orc with equal wariness. “You know Wod, you really should come along with us to Ravengro, to see that place we were talking about. Your ... friend, might like it.” Castiel figures it is best to keep the orc somewhere where he and Darias can keep an eye on it. Wandering around Ustalav on its own its likely to either kill someone or get lynched or both.
Of Mice and Half Orcs.
"No my good sir, I am not a member of this or any towns law enforcement. Although I have assisted a few in my travels. There seems to be no shortage of unsolved crimes, even in peaceful rural communities. " Edwin replies with a grin.
As the evening goes on Alinya listens in rapt attention to Nigel's stories of the Professor. And pesters Myron, Edwin, Castiel, and anyone else with first-hand stories to tell.
Edwin fills in the gaps in the conversation with anecdotes of his own. It turns out that Edwin is quite the story-teller. He has a penchant for long-windedness, but his finales are (so far) worth the wait. When the conversation begins to lull, he pulls out a lute, and begins to play softly.
After a few minutes it is clear that the lute is not his best instrument. After a few minutes more, he makes as if to throw it into the fireplace, but stops himself, and begins plucking the strings in an apparently random, yet strangely harmonic, if discordant, melody.
"I should have mastered the d@mn thing by now. I've been playing it for three days!" He grumbles.
Hearing Castiel address Wod, Edwin pulls himself out of his moody mutterings with surprising swiftness.
"Yes Wod, do come along. The roads are dangerous for those traveling alone. Why don't you travel with us? I am certain all of us would appreciate having one of your strength to guard us as we travel. There's no need to be nervous." He says with sincerity. (Having noticed the large warriors nervousness at a few points in the conversation.)
"Yes Wod, do come along. The roads are dangerous for those traveling alone. Why don't you travel with us? I am certain all of us would appreciate having one of your strength to guard us as we travel. There's no need to be nervous." He says with sincerity. (Having noticed the large warriors nervousness at a few points in the conversation.)
<Thinking, apparently at great effort, and then finally an answer.>
"Maybe Wod come help. But you not bury George. George say he not dead."
<Thinking, apparently at great effort, and then finally an answer.>
"Maybe Wod come help. But you not bury George. George say he not dead."
Edwin raises an eyebrow at that particular comment. Then puts away his lute. ('Needs tuning' He mumbles) and leans back in his chair.
"George says he's not dead? Fascinating. And did he say that just now?" He asks in a tone as if he were asking about the weather. He pulls out a large-bowled pipe, fills it, tamps it down, and lights it with a flick of his finger. Then puffs contentedly on it as he waits for Wod to form an answer.
<Thinking, apparently at great effort, and then finally an answer.>
"Maybe Wod come help. But you not bury George. George say he not dead."
Edwin raises an eyebrow at that particular comment. Then puts away his lute. ('Needs tuning' He mumbles) and leans back in his chair.
"George says he's not dead? Fascinating. And did he say that just now?" He asks in a tone as if he were asking about the weather. He pulls out a large-bowled pipe, fills it, tamps it down, and lights it with a flick of his finger. Then puffs contentedly on it as he waits for Wod to form an answer.
<After a lengthy head scratching and nervous sweating...>
"Yes. Wod believe George not you. You want put George in ground. George not dead."
As the evening goes on Alinya listens in rapt attention to Nigel's stories of the Professor. And pesters Myron, Edwin, Castiel, and anyone else with first-hand stories to tell.
"I'm a siege engineer by trade. Been blowing up or tearing down things ever since I enlisted with Olenko back when I was... what, fifteen? It's been a while, hasn't it? Anyway, after a few years of merc work in Numeria, he decided the fusiliers should join the current crusade in Mendev. We ended up on the northern border, looking over the Sellen River at an old ruined town called Storasta. As you know, the wardstones keep the demons from crossing the river; however, their minions can come right across any time they want. Trouble is, Storasta is swarming with animate plants, and the Sellen is teeming with grindylows. Every once in a while, waves of plant monsters would pour over the river and try to steal the wardstone, and each time we would pound them with arbalest fire and flaming pitch and drive them back into the water. The grindylows are afraid of fire, so they were less of a problem."
"After a while we got tired of this stalemate and wrote to a bunch of scientists in Numeria and Ustalav asking for ideas. Only Lorrimor wrote back, sending us some designs for siege engines big enough to strike the plant guys as they were massing on the other side of the river. And so we did - we built what had to be the biggest trebuchet in Avistan and used it to lob firepots all the way across the river, torching the town neighbourhood by neighbourhood. Sure, it was so big and unwieldy that we could only get off four shots per day, but the plant things went up like torches and had no concept of firefighting or damage control. It was awesome." Myron's face breaks into an evil grin. "And after a couple of months' bombardement, the plant assaults stopped and never started again. Olenko thought we had hit the plant brain or something like that. Though I never met the man, Lorrimor's design saved many lives, and I'm here to pay my respects."