Sometimes, your fate hangs upon a spell.
Other times it's determined by a riddle.
Occasionally, it depends upon sheer luck.
And often fate rests on a well delivered
SWORDTHRUST
The Wizard Morlean hired you to transport a minor relic across the Chatar Mountains. Amidst the windswept glaciers you find an evil cult, and ancient myth, treasure filled caverns, and great danger. You will need every ounce of all your adventuring skills, sound judgement, and luck to survive among the glittering walls of ice
Dot
The group has succeeded at defeating the Cult of the Reptile God and restoring the town back to normal. The charmed zombies of the naga return to normal. Weeks, months, and in some cases years become lost to the days of service to a powerful creature.
After recommendations from Ramne, Fornitado joins the group. Guided by a vague prophecy from Iomedae that 'The Future of the World Depends on what happens in Ferraburg, the group is given cold weather gear and hustled on the road to make the two week journey to the north. The travel is rather dull and uneventful, though the air gets colder as you go. You arrive just short of Ferraburg at a small crossroads tavern.
It is a dark and stormy night and you're glad for the warmth and company of a local tavern. Outside the winds howl through the narrow avenues and the rain looks like curtains blown along the trees.
The door opens and a stranger stumbles in. The robed figure leaves a trail of blood as it staggers into the backroom.
Terion downs his second ale and stares out of window, and into the rainy night - "A miserable weather, if I ever seen one" - he grumbles to the others, then looks around the inn - "At least this place is dry enough"
Picking up another haunch of meat, and adds - "And the meat is not half bad. But tell me boys and girls, what do you make of all this 'The Future of the World Depends on what happens in Ferraburg' thing? I really am not to one to question anyone's faith - after all if it wasn't for it, I wouldn't be here" - he remembers their run in with the naga queen, or whatever she was, and his very close call with death - "But are we supposed to sit around and wait for..."
His reasoning is interrupted as a seemingly wounded one walks through the door - as he heads to the backroom, Terion moves to stand in the way - "A moment there friend. Are you wounded? Maybe we can help"
Bizzlemont sits munching on a tray of cheese and some hard crackers. Oddly, the large cuts of meat didn't seem to interest him as much as he seemed to remember. A distant type of memory.
As the stranger stumbles in, he drops the piece he was holding. "Sir, do you need some assistance? Perhaps my friends can help."
"I for one, am glad that we are finally doing something new, as your constant recounting of the events of your last adventure, grow with every telling". "If not for our new mission, you would have all slain the king of Dragons with a pillow, and a bucket of slop, by now".
Fornitado stands as the man comes in the door, nearly knocking his chair over in the process.
"What is this"? Fornitado rushes to the man's side, and leads him towards a chair. Taking notice of the man's appearance and actions as he approaches.
Perception
The robed figure is quick and before the armored Terion can intervene, the robed figure slips into the back room. Separated from the common room with some large booths for privacy and for possible overflow, the back room seems more elaborately furnished.
Ama moves into the back room followed by Fornitado. As Ama approaches, the slight figure draws a dagger and hisses a warning. Barely able to stand up, the figure is obviously hurt, but the dagger is drawn in the blink of an eye and held with shaking but capable hands.
"Come any closer and I'll cut off your ears!!"
Terion moves to the back room also - as he hears the words, his hand goes instinctively to the sword hilt - "Say what now? We are only trying to help, but if you put it that way, we can help you go to sleep also milady..."
The gnome backs away. "Look, we just want to help."
Fornitado follows the figure into the room.
Perception
Heal
Perception 2
He is so busy looking at the amount of blood, and frowning at the warning, that he only takes a step back, and draws his longsword at the threat.
The figure seems to smile as the healing energy washes over her. She manages to get her feet under her, and smile and rash of medium length red hair is now visible as you look a little closer.
Shaking the hood loose with her head, you see a short human female that is startlingly attractive. Dark green eyes seem to favorably complement her dark-red hair.
"Thank you. The roads are treacherous and I did not know your intentions."
She nods to Terion: "Invitations to sleep are normally phrased with more friendly language. But then, we are up north, where the weather is cold and the men are bold."
Meanwhile, in the main room, a few hardy adventurers observe the appearance of the hooded figure with suspicion.
The hooded figure, now revealed to be a stunning red head, pulls out a silver bracelet.
"I am Merrie, with three e's and an i. You might think me foolish, but I am traveling to the Chatar Mountains to deliver this trinket to a wizard named Morlean. It has been an arduous journey. I have been attacked by wolves, thieves, and more, but each time I escaped. Now, less than a week away, I fall prey to a simple mugger."
"I have been paid well to transport this trinket to the town of Ferraburg. I get 500 gold on the back end from this wizard. I think something or someone is trying to thwart my mission. Accompany there and protect me, and I will give you half."
Merrie says, and Bizzlemont verifies, that the bracelet is magic.
Bizzlemont murmurs a few words of arcane power and his eyes flash blue. He nods. "It's magic, alright, and-" He cuts off shielding his eyes. "And it's powerful! Like nothing I've ever seen! Transmutation, so...it might turn you into something or enhance the wearer somehow."
He releases the spell and turns to Merrie. "You were commissioned by Morlean to bring it to him? From where?"
The figure seems to smile as the healing energy washes over her. She manages to get her feet under her, and smile and rash of medium length red hair is now visible as you look a little closer.
Shaking the hood loose with her head, you see a short human female that is startlingly attractive. Dark green eyes seem to favorably complement her dark-red hair.
"Thank you. The roads are treacherous and I did not know your intentions."
She nods to Terion: "Invitations to sleep are normally phrased with more friendly language. But then, we are up north, where the weather is cold and the men are bold."
Terion smiles at the retort, and his smile grows even wider when he realizes the hooded figure is in fact an attractive young woman - "I am not from around these parts" - he comments - "Though this crappy weather IS cold for sure"
Relaxing the hand from the sword hilt, he adds - "Apologies for the harsh reception there girl, but you weren't making things easy now were you? Well met in any case Merrie. I am Terion"
At the job offer he responds - "So, you are offering us two hundred and fifty gold to escort you safely to your destination, is that it? Can't say I am enjoying myself like crazy doing nothing around here... How about a drink, and you can explain this better to us? Maybe we are even heading in the same direction... Who knows?" - he laughs, then moves over to his table again, asking for another round.
Lamriel also tries to recall whether he has heard the name of Morlean.
Durahl looked up from the wench he was groping as the tavern door blew open revealing the mysterious figure. His eyes followed the ensuing flight of said figure into the back-room with little interest until he noticed the trail of blood which followed in his/her wake.
Well, well. Now that's not something you see every day. he mused to himself as his eyebrows climbed his forehead in surprise. This might bear further investigation. After all, an opportunity grasped is an opportunity earned.
Slowly and reluctantly relinquishing his grip on the young lass in his lap, he strolls towards the back room whence the figure fled.
Rising from his table and untouched food a bald elf turns to the group and human woman caring his food and drink.
Oh 250 gold lets see there is that one and that one so far so maybe 30 gold by the end. Well I can't find any work in this town anyway and it is better then paying for my own travel. Maybe this Morlean will have some more work. How to approach her ah that will kill to birds with one stone.
Tavar walks over to this group and turns to the bleeding young lady.
Young lady hold still your plague of accidents means I want to check you for poison. A bit expensive for the common mugger but it would seem to be just your luck.
Raising his attention out of his stein to see that he was practically alone among his fellow travelers in the front room, he sighs and gets up to follow - until Terion comes back out front and orders more ale.
Hearing the big lummox rattle off about the pretty girl in the back room, he comments wryly, "So, she's willing to pay us to take her home? I thought that kind of thing usually went the other way around, and now there's how many of the group standing around oogling her like she's a circus freak? Where are we, anyways - the red light district of Amsterdam?"
He ignored the baleful eye of the innkeep for impugning the reputation of the inn... not that he imagined the fellow even knew what he'd meant by the saying.
Terion smiled at Strang - "You're grumpy today boy - I'm thinking you need more ale in you" - then laughs - "Look, anyways we are heading in that direction, so why not pocket some gold while we are at it huh?"
Looking again to the back room, he adds - "Yep, that one's worth oogling alright... But she's no freak in my book" - he winks back at his companion.
Bizzlemont returns to the main room as Strang and Terion are discussing the visitor. "Red Light District of Amsterdam? What in heavens name does-... Oh. I see, yes. You're implying this woman is a prostitute and this establishment is some sort of legal brothel." He looks around the inn, speaking just a touch too loudly. "Perhaps, thought it seems highly unlikely. The barmaid shows little alluring skin and the innkeeper doesn't seem like a madam to me."
He takes out a pipe and frowns. "Though if you see him selling a more potent leaf, please do say. The pouch I picked up at our last stop has a bit of a waxy taste." Despite his words, the gnome lights the pipe and grimaces.
"So, are we taking payment to join this woman?" He glances at Strang. "Yes, definitely not a prostitute. I think you have the business arrangement backward there." He puts his feet up as he puffs on the pipe.
"Hmmm". "A chance to see this group in action". "Count me in".
Merrie looks at the gathering group.
"The north is a harsh mistress. I think there is safety in numbers, but I suspect many of you are new to this area. Be careful, there are dangers unlike any you have seen. And the wolves, they are fierce and tough, do not underestimate them."
She shakes her hair back under her hood and seems to check her wound on her left side. Although the bleeding has stopped, it will be some time before she is at her best.
She catches Ama's attention. "Thank you. Without your help, I think I would have collapsed."
Merrie then calls for the innkeeper. She hands over a gold coin and he calls for a large boar. Soon the smell of roast pig comes from the kitchen. A large pitcher of runoff water is brought to her, and she drinks the water with a smile.
"So, we leave after breakfast if you are in. Any of you who are up to the trip to Ferraburg can come."
The party enjoys a friendly night in the tavern and those agreeing to protect the beautiful 5' 2" 120# human redhead to her destination get to know each other. Merrie pays for what looks to be huge slabs of salted boar that was roasted over night in coals. She packs this into her masterwork backpack.
"I have enough to share. We may find some forage in the pass, but it is unlikely. Have you all rations for a week?"
The only way to Ferraburg is along the Snake Pass, a twisting narrow defile through the mountains.
At the end of day 6 you are traveling around a curve in Snake pass when you run into a cloaked figure in the midst of a goblin horde.
He hisses menacingly: [b]"The bracelet, I am here for the bracelet."[b]
Though the goblins are stacked in ranks behind the curve, you estimate at least thirty goblins.
"If we are not in a crazy hurry, I can hunt for at least a part of the food" - the man adds.
------
Shaking his head, Terion addresses their hijackers with typical diplomacy - "And who the hell are you?!"
Durahl places his hand on the handle of his sword on his left hip, looks briefly over his shoulder back in the direction of the wizards and asks, "Either of you spell-slingers got something to handle 30 goblin wretches?" He adds with a mischievous grin, "Or do we do this the FUN way?"
Before we leave I offer my scroll and wondrous item crafting services to the others.
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Oh wow he is trying to talk down the bandits that is just hilarious they will just kill us and rob us anyway.
I am assuming you lot are bandits of somekind, never mind I wold like to show you a my valuables so you don't kill us.
As he says that he reaches into his pouch an pulls out a handful of ground mica and chants waving his arms.
There Durahl blind targets I hope you don't manage to miss them.
Merrie seems to be much more talkative on the trail.
"I have spent most of time as a freelancer. My former partner and sister has ran afoul of a large criminal syndicate. To erase her debt, I have decided to take employment with the most powerful man, the Wizard Morlean, in the area. He offered me work and pays well."
initiative
Fornitado draws his fine elven bow, and sites in one of the Goblins.
Better than 12 init<<<<
Evil
Merrie and Friends
Evil
Merrie and Friends
Merrie raises a light crossbow and hits the front goblin. He falls to the ground.
Along their walk, Bizzlemont attempt to learn more about this Wizard, Morlean. He tries to figure out what kind of man he is as well as what any of his specialties are.
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Bizzlemont cheers as Tavar hits the goblins with a blinding spell. He responds to Durahl, "I might have something, but watch our friend Terion clear out the goblins!" He starts a spell, focused on Terion.
Durahl tries, unsuccessfully, to talk his way into a serving wench's bed on the night before they set out and is in poor temper the next morning because of said failure.
Blast these northern strumpets! They're colder than the frozen tundra which gave birth to them!
Grumbling all the while, Durahl procures 3 additional days worth of rations for the journey.
Lamriel will inspire courage on his turn.
"Let's see if Fortune favors you today, goblin scum! screams Durahl, draws forth a javelin and hurls it at the goblin in a direct line from him (cell S7).