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Test post please ignore
It has been a week since the blaze. Your caravan has been moving ever since, largly uneventful, you have encountered a few nomads and even one group of church faithful, but nothing of note happened.
it is night now, you are in a glade, large enough to house the wagons and people. most of the group is asleep, if fitfully so. where does this evening find everyone?
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Of habit, Gorn took his turn with the woodcutters. In a trice he'd chopped enough wood for a good fire, and continued his exertions, chopping stumps and thick logs for a make-shift table and stools enough.
Sun-down saw Allanna and Jimmy to their blankets, but Gorn stays up, nursing a full wineskin and staring into the crackling fire, wondering what the future will hold, and how he might win the survivors' safety...
with STEEL!
Vanadin is laid out in a bedroll, trying to sleep. A blanket draped over the lantern mostly keeps Flicker's light contained, but the little glowing thing is more active than usual this night. Wish I knew what it was about that one priest that got him all agitated.
Varis sleeps akwardly but soundly with a book splayed out and a candle long since blown out by the wind nearby.
Always more comfortable at night, Tera soars above the glade, keeping a watchful pair of eyes out for potential trouble for the camp. Occasionally his eyes drift towards the cart where Katia and Relin sleep. The Owlman intentionally avoids looking at Vanadin and his strange companion.
Silvia never sleeps much. As soon as camp is made, she evaporates into the forest. Where she goes, nobody knows, but she usually returns just before dawn, in the grey hours, with either a twinkle in her eye, or with a slow, heavy tread, like that of a half dead horse or a moody teenager.
Anyone awake at camp sees them coming, about 8 orcs moving down the road toward you. two carry torches, and all have large packs on over travelling cloaks.
They are about 200 meters off, what does everyone do?
Tera flies over within earshot and calls out from the night sky.
Hail travelers. You are approaching a camp of peaceful folk. Hope you won't mind explaining your intentions, times as they are.
Silvia observes the orcs from the undergrowth, then weaves a few dozen moonbeams into a passable illusion of an orc.
She retches silently as her vocal chords lengthen, and her spine creaks as she adjusts her posture into that of the average orcish warrior. It's a sturdy one as well, and should be able to hold up under considerable roughhousing. It won't hold up to scrutiny via mirror though, but that shouldn't be too much of an issue.
What should I be on the lookout for?
At Tera's words, Vanadin gets up, grabs Flicker's staff, and walks towards the edge of the camp facing the visitors, leaving the lantern covered. He assumes an alert but neutral stance, and watches to see how they'll respond to Tera.
Varis snorts and rolls to his side.
Silvia
you look over the group. 5 are armed with wood axes, large knives, or (In one case) a poor-quality sword, all of these at their sides on their backs. another one, close to the back, has a hunters bow, and a quiverful of arrows. the bow is strung and in hand. none of them seem like major threats, Tera and Gorn could cut them to ribbons if it came to blow. however the remaining two have magical symbols around their necks, and wear what appear to be tattered vestments. those two are spellcasters, you're sure of it. What do you do?
Tera and Vanadin
The orcs almost jump in surprise as a voice emanates from the forest, but one near the front steps forward, and addressing Vanadin says We're all that remains of the Aigoporith Abbey, we're just trying to get to the coast. just sharing a road with you lot, no ill intentions. hope that's mutual. They haven't drawn their weapons, but you can see their hands hovering, waiting for your next move, what do ou do?
Tera lands on the road next to Vanadin. He folds up his wings and his sword remains sheathed. He waits for Vanadin to respond and focuses on looking non threatening.
Tera uses the opportunity to inspect the Orcs' body language and facial expressions.
What is about to happen?
What here is useful or valuable to me?
What here is not what it appears to be?
Tera
The Orcs hands are hovering over their weapons, and one of the casters had drawn a fetish from the folds of his robes. they don't seem to want to fight, but they are also terrified, or you and Vanadin.
On a sociopathic level, these guys have a decent amount of supplies (food, wine, bandages) and the two casters wear rowan and cold-iron charms. If you are still too principled for banditry, these guys could likely tell you some of the road ahead.
Most of the people in this group seem inexperienced, but the archer, older caster, and one of the knife-wielders are all more steady, and in good, versatile stances by nature, they have had combat training.
"Aigoporith? I've heard the name, I thought there were supposed to be hundreds of monks there. What happened? " As he speaks, Vanadin gestures with his free hand and takes half a step to one side, inviting the orcs to walk around the side of the group's campsite with him.
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Having done battle with the wineskin and sapped half its strength, Gorn reacts slightly behind the others.
Slinking off to the side, (as much as a man of his size can), he walks to Allanna's tent and shakes her shoulder gently to wake her. "Orcs approaching," is all he whispers to her. An ogress of experience, she nods stoically at the words and starts the process of getting dressed.
Leaving her tent, Gorn resumes a place at the front of the camp, walking forward openly to the small gathering, and calmly watching the conversation.
It's not that he doesn't believe the words being said, but, as they say, orcs...are orcs.
He doesn't need to say words. His presence alone, he's found, is statement enough.
He searches his memory to see if he's ever heard of orcs at an Abbey, or if Aigoporith Abbey even exists.
The orcs move forward, following Vanadin. Yes, there were over a hundred monks, and for every one of those, there were three others, novices, hunters, farmers, groundskeepers, visiting luminaries and such. Despite all this, the abbey was overrun. one of the clerics says There was an uncontrolled magical surge, a novice experimenting beyond his ken, or a master who was going senile. Whatever the case, we were overun by fey creatures. They tore right through our defenses, killed many, dragged others off into the forest. he says in the standard orcish monotone My companions and I survived by retreating to a silvered cloister. Now we are on our way to the cathedral. he finishes. what do you do?
It was necessary, given the sorts of magic the abbey expirimented and traded in, to line all the cloisters with silver The orc says somberly A rather expensive proposition too, and now it may all go. to waste
a second one, the archer, adds in the attack was perpetrated mainly by Hags and Dryads, some spriggans also were involved.
And, we fear, there may have been an even more powerful force with them, one of the true fey the second caster adds in finally.
what do you do?
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Gorn shrugs. The orcs are not currently attacking them, and he plans to walk with them until they are safely out of the camp.
He knew by now his mom would be watching, hiding behind some hedgerow. He brushes his thigh with his left hand, a signal that is well, for now. He has no desire to show the orcs their full strength, should they decide to circle around and attack later, as orcs are wont to do.
Later he'll ask the others about journeying to the abbey to save it. It seems to have been abandoned by the former owners, and they could do worse than have a former abbey, surrounded by homes and farmland, as their new home.
All they have to do is kill a few witches and walking twigs.
Piece of cake.
Silvia drops her disguise and makes her way carefully back into camp. She has no need to modify her more-or-less human features, and the glamour could potentially be sensed by one of those casters. Then again, she wouldn't exactly jump at the chance to confess her nature to these refugees...
"Ugh. Sympathies for your losses. Are you supplied well enough for your journey?" Vanadin asks, as they reach the far side of the camp.
Satisfied that the Orcs are not an immediate threat, and that Vanadin has the situation well in hand, Tera bids the orcs good luck on their journey and returns to the skies to watch for other trouble.
The abandoned abbey will no doubt have supplies that these orcs left behind. I must speak with the elders about sending out a recon group.
We will be able to reach the coast with our current supplies the orc assures you
What of you? are you a trading caravan? pilgrims? the archer asks.
what do you do?
"Settlers. Our village burned down, and we're looking for a place to rebuild. " Vanadin replies.
I am sorry to hear that the orc says I bid you well upon your journey, you would seem t have a long road ahead of you. he offers, before turning back to the troupe, and turning to walk away. unless anyone stops them, they will keep on their journey.
Daylight dawn bright, and emerald light streams down over your convoy. You know that there is a small mage-town up ahead, where you might be able to resupply, and get information. What do you do?
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I slept great, how about you guys?
Vanadin helps out with the morning's cooking. As the group prepares to break camp, he heads over to Varis. "So, do you know anything about this town up ahead? I hear they're like you...mages. Ever been there? "
Varis shrugs, I know of the town, my training included cultural traditions of the realms but my interests lie in the greater macro-magical influences on the natural world and not in the softer realms of knowledge like hand-me-down traditions. And considering my treatment during my first foray into gentile lands, I can't say I am sorry for not exploring these hamlets before.
Varis
You know of the place, there are a group of mages living in the town. you met a group of them when they visited your uncle's manor, for equal parts gossiping and mutual espionage. they are led by a mage called Eolore, a pompous ass of a Gnome, but dangerously powerful. also notable are Olyn, a Skilled enchanter, and Feyrith, a skilled Abjurer and Evoker, the group's "Security" so to speak.
n fact, you did a small favour for Olyn a while back, and she still owes you for it. What did you do?
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I will say that there are three relative talents in town; Olyn is an enchanter which generally means she's a deviant, and the one naemd Feyrith has enough power to protect the area. They are led by a little fella with a big head named Eolore who likes to think being the big fish in a very little pond grants him some sort of status.
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As the caravan wakes, Gorn starts with his normal task of carrying up water from a nearby stream, his massive shoulders transporting great amounts of the liquid and freeing up half a dozen men for lighter chores.
As the subject of the nearby town is brought up, he ventures a suggestion, his deep voice in its normal gravel. "If this is a town of mages, methinks that mages do not enjoy doing their own labors. Mayhap we can find wood for chopping and pots for washing and earn a little coin and fatten up our larders.
Or, even, have larders. Since now we seem to lack a good deal."
[ooc]Anyone got anything they want to do in camp, or shall we move ahead to being at the town gates?
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The Town of Conclave is alive and bustling, even at this early hour. you have arrived, by happy coincidence, on a day of the market, and near the rocky patch of ground that serves as a town centre, stalls have already begun setting up. here a farmer selling squash, and other early harvest vegetables, there a fletcher offering arrows to hunters, who are themselves selling hides, meat, and anything else of value from their quarry's carcass. An old man, veteran by the looks of him, sells weaponry, and an alchemist (Or similar) offers tinctures of good health, poions of restoration, elixiers of transformation (And those of you with keen ears hear him whisper to a passing lad about love potions).
The smoke of cook fires drifts into the air from several buildings, but one's great plume denotes it as a smithy. and down the main way you can hear the whinnying of horses, no doubt you would find a stable down that way. Varis' ears detect distant, quiet chants, likely some monastic order rising to morning worship.
and of course, a wizards tower, short and plain as they go, but impressive by comparison to this town, rises above the rest, near the eastern edge of town (Near enough to draw upon the forest's Feywild). The tower gives the faint impression of magic upon all of you, though not so overwhelming as the Mansion (To say nothing of mighty Sola). Those of you with sharp eyes will note a figure standing on the balcony (and Tera can make out the figure as a young woman in a forest green robe, apparently intensly focused on the wilderness to the south.
what does everyone do?
Varis, do you know these mages? Would the colors of their robes mean anything to you? Tera points at the wizard tower. There is a young woman in forest green robes up on the balcony. She seems concerned about something to the south. Do you know who she could be? Perhaps she has some task we could help with.
Probably Feyrith, that woman always wears a frown. You can tell from how poorly she has aged. A little cheer would do her some good, Varis says as he prepares a simple trick, I'll take a look.
Varis snaps his hand into an OK sign and peers through the opening at a magnified image looking at the woman.
I'm also concerned about that chanting. I'd hate for representatives of the church to be here too, Varis pauses before adding, Oh, I'm sorry. These elegant ears are for more than show, we elves can hear much better than most. I can hear chanting for morning worship in the distance. Then he adds another comment, That's a common practice in these lands, Tera. Those who dedicate their lives to their god take on strict disciplined forms of worship and dedicate their lives to it. They are called monks when they are male, and the women are nuns.