The Darkest Day (Inactive)

Game Master JCServant

Between the Land of man and the Great Northern Wilderness ruled by the elves is the small city of Bandera. Just a day or two's journey off the main trade route that goes through its sister city, Belach, Bandera is a place where wealthy merchants go to retire, and those on the run from either the human or the elven governments go to hide. While technically under Elven rule, the city enjoys near complete autonomy, as its distance from the capital or any other major Elven city insures that visits from representatives of the ruling council are few and far between.

There's one road in and out of Bandera. On this night, your characters are either travelling to the city or leaving it. Normally, the trip on the road is safe and uneventful. After all, Belach is only a short distance away. However, on this night, dark clouds form over head quickly.

Those of you learned in the ways of nature or who have studied history know of these magically produced storms. Referred to as "Siroccos," they are believed to form by not only violent weather patterns, but remnants of magic left behind by the great war many centuries ago. Considered extremely dangerous, staying outside in these storms leads to death more often than not. Even for those not trained, the hail that begins to fall is encouragement enough to seek shelter.

While only a day or two from either city, at this point, the cities of Bandera and Belach feel years away. You quickly scan around you, and walk to the highest point you can get to fast, to locate some shelter.

A bolt of lightning splits the sky, lighting the area for miles. You see it... the shadow of a tower, backlit by the electricity. With no other option in sight, you quickly head for it.

The hailballs are getting larger, and you take a nasty hit or two before you arrive. The tower appears old, large and sturdy enough. There's a large roof providing cover to the exterior just outside of the massive double doors. They're made of very solid wood with metal hinges. As you arrive, you see a number of other souls who have gathered here. One is completely covered in red robes, making it hard to see his or her face. He or she is of tall height for an average human. Another is a human male, in his late 20's, who is looking at the door with deep curiosity. He looks thin but muscular.

Please give a physical description of your character for the others, and what you might be doing during your first minutes as you run for this cover and meet these other strangers during this storm.

Toriel is a female elf with long blonde hair and green eyes. She is currently modestly dressed in leather and has quite the number of various blades sheathed in easily accessed places on her form. She's a bit on the thin side and stands just under 6 feet tall.

Rushing into the tower from the storm, Toriel's hand immediately moves to rest on the hilt of her sword as she inspects the other inhabitants waiting to see if they are friendly or not, she hesitantly speaks. "...well...better then being stuck here alone in the storm I guess."

Jarkralzak stands about 4'3" in height, with a powerful, stocky build so prevalent to his species. A thick, coal-black beard is split down his front, reaching to his belt. Hairy eyebrows and a bushy mustache almost completely obscure his face. A sharp, flinty nose pierces the hairy face, and bright blue eyes peer out beneath the shaggy brow. Dresses in splint-mail armor and carrying a heavy steel shield, Jark looks like a typical dwarven warrior. A great hammer hangs from his belt, and a pack is slung over his back. A strange glyph is etched into his shield and he moves with an effortless, stoic gait even with all the weight he is carrying.

Jark tramps up to the tower, neither hurrying, nor seeming to be impeded by the weather. He grunts as he shrugs his pack off and looks over the others taking shelter.
"Jarkralzak. Traveller." he says in a deep, rich baritone.

The names Tuver, the man says. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, I'm sure. I'm an entrepreneur, always looking to make a good deal. I have to say, I've taken the road between the sister cities plenty of times, but I've never seen this tower. Not even once. Yet, here it is. Amazing, at that.

The taller, robed person seems to be content to remain quiet, moving very little. Through the darkness, its hard to get see much of his or her face.

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

Toriel nods slightly, "I am Toriel Ondovir. Perhaps because you never had a reason to look for it." A bit of a skeptic in any case Toriel will begin taking a closer look at interior they stand in just to be sure.

Well, darlin', it's hard to miss something this big. Look at the height of this thing! You could certainly see this from the road in board daylight.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Jark glances at the robed figure, but shows no real interest in the others at this time.

"Well it is a convenience for us right now, one I would rather not question it too much at the moment but a more detailed inspect of our shelter would be in order at this moment I believe."

Toriel explains as she continues inspecting the room around her.

Intrigued by the merchants protestations that this tower did not exist before tonight, Zarkralzak looks a little more closely at the stonework of the tower.

Perception (with +2 Stonecunning): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

Shangruon is a half-orc male with thick, dark brown well-kempt hair which is bristled, yet kept at a even length all through out. He has two symmetrically sharpened tusks protruding from the bottom of his lips and a few faded scars along his face and other visible parts of his body which have been marked over with tribal tattoos in elegant curves. His clothing consists of a simple sturdy leather overcoat, which seems mainly for protection against the weather and shows the indicative wear and tear, light fabric bandage wraps which cover the majority of his mid-section and also lightly cover his fists, and finally loose fitting pants which are frayed along the bottom edges. He wears no shoes and his feet have become rougher for it, but the nails are well trimmed. His eyes are a light shade of amber, similar to the color of his jacket.

Shangruon steps into the room silently, attempting to draw no attention to himself, but under no illusion that he could possibly be invisible. He puts away his spear which he had been using in one hand to assist in his marching along his long journey. From the far edges of the crowd, he makes his way towards the merchant and the others speaking to him to gather what he can about the current situation, their excited tones only increasing his suspicions that something is not right around this area.

angus, is a 5'7 human rather of young age (mid twenties) he is dressed in traveler's outfit wearing some sort of scarf around his head like a desert dweller. He carries a walking staff, a backpack. No other weapon. A necklace with a symbol (KN Religion) can rapidly be seen before he puts it away under his shirt. A Black panther is by his side.

Phew what a storm.

the panther dries herself and stretches her legs

Well here goes your bath for the month Jane. he says with a rather large smile

turning to the other people that have taken refuge:

Well meet then. This is Jane and i am Angus

Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (12) + 0 = 12

I guess I didn't make it clear in the description above...my bad... but you all are not IN the tower. You are gathered out front of it. I should have mentioned, that the large doors have a suitably large covering that you all are huddled in front of.

Whoa. Nice kitty, Tuver says. Pleasure to meet y'all as well. It's starting to get a bit crowded under here... and that storm's only going to get worse. Only a matter of time before that hail gets bigger and starts coming at us sideways. He starts looking at the door.

The hooded stranger looks at the cat for a moment, and moves to the outer edge of the covered area, flirting with the hail while giving others more room to work.

The hail is now golf ball size, easily able to give someone out in it some good bruises at this point. The driving rains and wind only increase in fury as time passes.

Perception for Door: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Jark glances at the door, but is too engrossed with the stonework to give it much though.

"I think this weather is very unnatural" Shangruon blurts out abruptly, "If had the choice, I would like to be inside rather than outside, but this place might belong to somebody who doesn't like strangers... or half-orcs."

Shangruon walks up to the door in an obvious attempt at observation.

Perception for doors: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (14) + 0 = 14

Well i'd rather try getting in and having to deal is an very angry housekeeper then stay out here in this weather

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

Toriel will look over the door frustratingly. Before rolling her eyes lifting a hand and just knocking. "I guess we'll see if anyone is home."

You know, but there is no answer.

A bolt of lightning strikes maybe two miles away. The thunder is near deafening, giving most of you a reason to jump. The temperature drops as well, making some of you cold, depending on your clothing. It must be 30 degrees (f) colder than normal this this part of Forzega.

Spending the briefest second in consideration, Toriel reaches down to try the door handles. "Nobody home... well then. Forgiveness later, safety now, eh?"

Shangruon waits to see how the door will react to being opened, as its behavior is the largest indicator of the owner's intentions to keep those who should not gain entry outside, or if it is simply an open invitation for anyone to come inside and take refuge.

You open up the doors, and in front of you is a large, empty room with a tall ceiling. There are double doors across the room to the east, and a single door on the walls to the north and south. Strange runes are written above and beside each door.

There is no natural illumination in this room, making it rather dark. It is cool, but not nearly as cold as it is outside.

Well, it beats stayin' out there. Tuver says as he enters, taking off his jacket and shaking off the rain.

Using his darkvision, Jark scans the room before entering.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15

Angus takes a step as to get inside but suddenly stops

Anyone has an idea what those weird symbols mean or do? he says pointing in their direction

"Seals.. traps... mere room labling?" Toriel will walk to the nearest door and inspect the runes there, checking for any signs of a trap or even recognition of what they are.

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9 +1 vs traps.

Is there anything that can be rolled on the runes?

As you study the runes they turn orange and red, not unlike the color of fire. They hum softly, but nothing happens.

The man looks at them and says, Hmm...I dunno. But, hey, we're here, we got time to kill. I say we look inside! Good be somethin' worth seein' in there!

The robed individual also looks up, the soft illumination of the runes doing little to help you see his or her face more clearly. A single word escapes its lips as a whisper.

...fascinating...

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23

"These aren't anything I recognize." Toriel will check the door she is looking at to see if it is locked. (aka the door handle)

Upon closer inspection, each door, including the double doors, have handles with simple, yet strong, locking mechanisms. However, they are locked from your side.

well i guess that answers that. Tuver this does ring a bell to you doesn't it?

Perhaps! The man replies. But, we won't know for certain if we just stand here. He heads to the door on the north side. I have a good feeling about this one! Let's go! Before anyone can really protest, he unlocks the door and pulls it open.

His face turns white as he looks inside. Oh my...it's hideous! RUN!.

Toriel swears softly as she reaches for her short sword. She had hoped to already have a weapon ready before trying any of the doors. "Perhaps it didn't occur to you they were locked from our side for a reason... maybe a little preparation would have been appropriate."

Huh, what Run? Angus signaling to the panther does head for the outer door and will stop there.

He runs up to the elf, who's hand is on her sword at the ready. Suddenly, the shocked expression turns to laughter. Hahahahah! Got ya!! There's nothing in there at all. Just a dark hallway! Got ya! HAHAHAHAH! Really, and they say you elves don't have a sense of humor!!

Seeing a look of consternation cross her face, he stands straight. Awww...now, c'mon. No need to be cross. Let's go in there together. There's bound to be something of value to turn that frown upside down! Let's go!

Toriel sighs with slight annoyance, tightening her grip on her sword as she walks over to the open doorway to look down the dark hallway.

"Dwarf, please tell us if you see anything down this hallway while I prepare a torch."

She will wait for the dwarf to be in a position to see the hallway before sheathing her weapon to light a torch.

Shangruon grunts noncommentally at the antics of the mysterious merchant as they grab his attention towards the other adventurers."What could be the intentions of locking that door from our side?" He asks aloud to no one in particular. He seems particularly uncomfortable with the entire situation, but not really fearful. Shangruon silently examins the dwarf to see if he represents something he is familiar with.

Knowledge (religion): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

"Jarkralzak", the dwarf intones, giving no indication of moving.

Frustrated, Toriel will grudgingly respond, "Jarkralzak. Please watch the hall while I prepare a torch? You have superior vision in darkened conditions." She will look at the dwarf expectantly now.

Jarkralzak nods once then go to look down the hallway. He unhooks his hammer from his belt as he moves over to the door.

Shallya of the Green is a halfling woman standing just under 3 feet tall and weighing about 30 lbs. She wears a sturdy travelers outfit, patched in many places and a suit of worn leather armor treated with wooden plates over vital areas. She also carries a wooden shield on her off arm. She sports a satchel across her shoulder and another pack at her belt.

Her left leg being lame, she walks, albeit quite slowly, with the aid of a very sturdy walking stick she can also wield fiercely in melee.

Shallya limps into the building, leaning heavily upon her walking stick. She looks about Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18 and calls out, Sorry for the intrusion, I seek shelter from this dang unnatural storm!

Toriel glances up at the new arrival, giving the halfing a nod while she sets to lighting a torch. "We're rather intruding ourselves so I don't believe we have much say on that regard." Picking up the lit torch she'll point down the hall. "I think the general consensus was to explore a bit while we wait out the storm."

Shangruon nods to the halfing as she enters the room. "This weather is troubling indeed."

Angus still standing at the front door, regains some composure.

Well that wasn't very funny at all. One day stranger you will yell wolf once to often and no one will believe you when the very real bear will be there to eat you. angus mutter under his breath

Awww, now don't be sore, my man. If you don't joke about these things, you take them too seriously. Give yourself a heart attack in your young age, you will! See anything, Jarkzalzak? Any werewolves rushing out to greet us yet?

"The hallway runs 50' to open into a room of some kind. Beyond that I cannot see."
He shifts his shield and readies to walk down the hall to the room.

Well met, I am Shallya of the Green, who do I have the pleasure of addressing? she charmingly looks about at the group formed before her. No one seems to be here? Strange for a tower to be left open and unguarded.

Shallya looks over the group curiously; she sees the auras forming about each, slight tendrils coming from one another, slowly encompassing the tendrils of the others. Just newly forming auras of bonding. Interesting. They do not know one another, yet the bonds of community are already forming, some agreed upon common goal I would wager. The bond is already stronger than expected.

I can see that, friend elf, you and your fellows, as you stated, are about to explore this place? I will join if I may, this tower abandoned is too curious to pass up! I have some skills in healing and guiding others to come together, work together, as a team.

"...let's not get ahead of ourselves here... we may not end up even seeing each other again after the storm passes... I suggest a slow pace so we might keep watch for traps." Toriel will answer quietly before slowly beginning to walk down the all with the torch while keeping an eye out for traps.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8+1 vs traps

You move carefully down the hallway. You do see a trap, but it was already tripped. A silver cord attaches into the wall. Holes nearby lead you to believe that they would allow darts or bolts to fly out. No one has reset the trap.

Now 30' away, you see an open door before you. A soft, red glow emanates from the room. For a brief moment, you swear you detect some movement. A desk with piles of papers and books lie scattered about.

Jarkralzak takes the lead and enters the room.

Following slowly behind, Shallya limps with the aid of her walking stick. She moves her shield into place as Jarkralzak takes point, eyeing the room ahead cautiously...

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21