“Gah, bugger that.” He moves closer to the window. “Read my face freak. GO – A – WAY!”
He just grins; scratching his nails down the pane of glass again.
"Ish jusha yiddow bit. You won't mish it!"
Beldan, now dressed, throws his blanket up over the dilapidated curtain rail, forming a makeshift drape across the window.
He turns to the others. "Uh ... what do you want to do?"
Something's scrabbling around on the roof now. Something...decent sized.
The blanket's over the windowpane; he's tapping a three-fingered syncopation on the window.
"Whatever's on the roof... This is not good. It seems like these guys are coming in no matter if we'll let them or not." Altai starts digging around in his scrollcase. "Help Stig put his iron on. You too, Gittik. Get your armour on. Also, someone needs to wake up Becton. He'll know what to do."
Beldan nods. “Riese, you get Becton. I’ll wake Stiggy.” He races off, but stops by his room first to grab the flasks of holy water from his pack and tell Pharris to hide under the bed. Then he heads to where he thinks the dwarf should be sleeping.
Encaseur gildritar guar'in! Riese hurries off to wake Becton, when he finds him he starts shaking the priest "Father, we have some sort of vampires seeking entry into our abode! I believe one is scrambling about the roof while another is at the front door, but beyond that I do not have much of a clue as to their true numbers. They are seeking the house's prior owner, Sanbelet or whatever his name was, and are speaking of collecting the 'blood tax'. Do you need help donning your armor?" if so Riese assists, as much to help as to be near the holy man with his undead knowledge, protections, and healing.
On the roof, the tapping of feet stops.
Now, it's howling.
Elgan, spoiler:
As everybody scrambles around the house, Altai decides to try to buy some time by getting the vampire to talk a bit. "So, taxman... I think we've established that Lord Sanbalet doesn't want to pay your tax anymore. However, he might be willing to re-negotiate the terms. What will you offer in exchange for collecting your tax?"
the horse says:
Elgan! Elgaaaaaan! That guy is evil man! Eeeeeeevil! Elllgaaaan!
Elgan Puts a calming hand on the horse until it stops threatening to bolt.
"T'ank yee, ah t'ink we figgered dat out all by ourse'ves." He says aside to the skittish animal, keeping a wary eye on the doorway.
"Altai, If'n dat is whut ah t'ink it is, ah have a lil' sumthin' fer it." HE says, hastily donning his new dragonhide breastplate and grabbing his bow.
"Undead. Ah hates undead." He shakes his head in denial. "Why don' dey jes' giv' up an' stay dead?!?"
Stig is laying on the sofa. He's not wearing any armor, but his axe is near!
"Whit in th' nam ay Moradin ur ye daein'? Keep it doon!"
“Stiggy! There’s a vampire or a tax collector outside, and something crawling around on the roof. We’re gonna fight.”
“Stiggy! There’s a vampire or a tax collector outside, and something crawling around on the roof. We’re gonna fight.”
"Crap. No armor. Ah'm fooked. Tenser, come laddie!"
Stig will grab his old chain shirt.
"Well ... I suppose we could negotiate..."
Gittik struggles into his mithril shirt. "Why someone come here every day, try kill us, eat us, drink blood? Me think Saltmarsh crap."
If not I'd like to invent one.
I feel a lot of the "variant rule classes" get short shrift from the splatbooks; no ancillary feats and whatnot, due to the sudden ending of the line or whatever...
Everybody seems to have time to suit up/buff up/level up;) etc...
the ballyhoo, the howling, the dissonant murmuring and raspy tongue-on-windowpane continues unabated for at least half an hour.
Yet nothing seems to penetrate the barriers of the house. Nothing challenges that ancient boon: that vampire may not enter a house uninvited.
After Riese helps Becton with his armor and they return to the front doors he will call upon his mystical powers and drop a burst of fire upon the creature licking the window.
The vampire's clothing goes up in flame, and his skin is scorched and crisped. He lets out a surprised yelp, then starts whining:
"I only came here to peac(sh)efully discuss(sh) tax(sh) (sh)chedulesh!
And you return (sh)scalding flaaaame! Oh, venemoush mage! You will rue thish night! You will beg my forgivenesss(sh)!
We will come back, and we will only be sated with bucketsh of blood!"
He skitters backwards off of the porch; seems to almost trip as he runs off of the stairs; keeps his balance. A cloud of embers from his shabby clothing, blown by the wind, erupts on the porch; scattering and dancing in the wind, whipping around the porch.
You smell burnt clothing, and burnt flesh.
Fear me, Dead-thing! For I shall burn you with fires that burn tenfold of what you just tasted!!! I am Riese, and I shall destroy you and your kin if you ever return to this house!!!! Fear me!!!!
"Riesh. Heh heh heh heh......Riiiiiiiiiiiiieshhhhhhh......
Nyomnyomnyom.........yeshhhhh....."
Anybody going to attack this freak(s)?
If so,....go for it;
if not...
"Yaaaaaaah!!!! Yaaaah!!!! Aaaaaaaaaieeeeee!!! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS RIESHE!!! I'LL MAKE YOU PAY!!!"
he turns into a pillar of flame, and then disappears into a cloud of mist, drifting off and away, through the gates to the ground.
Something jumps off of the roof to the side, and runs away as well.
Then nothing. Nothing but the wind and the intermittent rain.
If not I'd like to invent one.
I feel a lot of the "variant rule classes" get short shrift from the splatbooks; no ancillary feats and whatnot, due to the sudden ending of the line or whatever...
Elgan leaps out the door, landing in an animalistic crouch. With a growl he sends an arrow speeding after the fleeing shadow. The shaft goes wide, and the elf swiftly changes into his familiar dark feline form. But after a moment of obvious restraint, he does not go chasing after the figure, but prowls around the house, sniffing to make sure there aren't any more hiding nearby. He returns to the porch and shifts back into an elf. Still panting with excess adrenaline.
"Ah don' see nothin's, I gues there wuz jes' deh too. Ah wish ah could hav unnerstood whut dey wuz sayin'. But dey wuzn' talkin' in real hones' ta goodness wolf-speak. More lahk dey had made up dere own language usin dey wolf voices."
Elgan spots nothing out of sorts, other than the tracks of the two vaporing vampires. There's the booted tracks of the tax collector up to the door, and booted tracks where one of them jumped off the roof and went springily sprinting off into the night; whereupon they abruptly end where the thing presumably became as rolling mist.
The rain is quickly futzing away at the tracks.
"Bastards!" Altai kicks a rock into the night as they return to the house. "They'll be back again and again - and I really don't want to mess with vampires as we ambush that pirate ship. We need to find their hideout. They probably dwell relatively close by if they regularly 'tax' Sanbalet and his cronies. Let's start with the obvious - are there any cemetaries relatively near by?"
"Ye ken, the un'hin' Ah hate most abit livin' in Saltmarsh? Ah cannae stomach aw these damn vampires!"
[ooc]only thing you know of offhand; there's the cemetary in Saltmarsh.
This area around where the house is is somewhat hilly. To the immediate north a few miles, there's a small copse of trees; wooded, a few miles by a few miles; too small to warrant any notice on any big maps.
Other than that, it's moors.
Stig heads back to the sofa and passes out, this time with his chain shirt on.
The night passes uneventfully. There is a heavy downpour suddenly at midnight. It awakens anyone who is a light sleeper. It surprises anyone who is still awake, with its startling suddenness.
The sun rises in the morning, heralding a brief respite from the darkness and what it hides.
Thirteen days until the full moon.
"Does anyone know if there's a cairn or something in that little forest? Elgan, could you ask some animals if there's a 'bad place' in there?"
His little bat friend tells him:
"I don't know about th' daytime on accounta I'm noctoinal, but I know at night, most creatures widd enny sense stays outta dere. It's spooky, man."
Elgan sleeps lightly, jumping up and hissing like a cat at the sudden small storm. In the morning, he passes on what the bat-buddy has told him.
"If'n deh critters say it spooky-like, den dey's sumthin' in dere alrigh'. Even big predator' don' spook critters lahk dat. Ah don' t'ink dat we gonna get much he'p from da wil'life. Looks lahk we gone haf'ta chick it our ourselv'." He says earnestly. He stretches briefly, then re-dons his Dragonskin breastplate and snags his bow and pack.
"Reddy when yeh are chere. Ah kin picks us sum breakfas' on deh way!" He grins.
Into the woods?.....
The merry band consisting of Altai,....,....,......,and....., not to mention......and ......, heads north a little ways into hilly country. A lone tree stands among the hills here and there, defiant of the scouring winds but bent northward just the same, until cresting a rise about midday they espy the small forest beginning on the downslopes. Getting closer, a palpable chill envelops the journeyers. Mist hangs among the copses like trapped seaweed. The trees all look gnarled and sickly, and a blanket of untended leaves is everywhere on the ground.
Not a single bird sings here. It's about 10 a.m when the party reaches the wood, after an hour's scrambling about in the hills.
From afar, you can see a plume of smoke as if from a campfire.
"Ah, look at that. Can someone stealthier than me sneak up and see what the fire is?"
yeah. You get to the top of a rise, and see a small hollow, 20 yards wide 60 yards long. There's a small fenced in yard around a stone house. The house is squat, smallish, with no windows; just a sturdy oaken door. There's a shed off to the side, where the plumes of smoke are coming from. The blacksmith's timpanation comes from the shed, metal spanking metal.
The top of the rise is about 25 yards from the shed.
"Huh. This can't be that bad - anyone ever hear of a vampire blacksmith? Let's go ask the feller about the lay of the land."
Do you guys trek up to the shed?
Just one hammer. No signs of domesticated animals.
"Oh, well. Cover me, willya?" Altai gets up and walks carefully towards the cottage. Once he gets close enough, he throws a couple of rocks against the smithy door.
"Oh, well. Cover me, willya?" Altai gets up and walks carefully towards the cottage. Once he gets close enough, he throws a couple of rocks against the smithy door.
I shall keep my eyes open and alert. If you see a fiery bolt streak about then I am killing something, that's your warning that something is wrong.