.
Checking in, let me know if you need any adjustments, I added the much appreciated free feats.
Ella will be helpful for battlefield control (Glitterdust, Entangle, Color Spray) and healing (Channel 1d6 this will scale up, also have a wand of CLW)
Thanks to her free feats she isn't terrible at ranged combat either.
She's CG merc type and orcs make the world uglier which offends her worldview. She could come in knowing anyone with a similar background fo being merc and liking to get paid.
Looking forward to playing with you all.
Looked through everyone's stuff to get an idea of how the team is going to play and this is an interesting mix of characters for sure. Hjorleaf as a heads up you owe yourself a ton of free feats.
Five gold a day or take the knights oath. I wonder what the knights oath is. Though he expects he should already know. Maybe he did know and last nights drinking thrust it from his mind. His throbbing suggests that's the case.
Funds aren't running so low that he's in a bind, but he keeps planning to get better gear and it never quite happens. I've got to stop drinking if I'm to save any money. Probably good for my head too.
He strides out into the streets and to the cafe for a quick breakfast and some coffee. He wonders what the day will bring as his head clears and he munches on toasted bread.
Alma looked out of the window of the window of the now closed house.
She had heard the knights were renewing recruitment efforts recently.
With a magical hat and a normal dress in her possession, passing herself off as a mortal was much easier.
She went out to visit the local taverns, trying to find out as many details as she could.
Fourth Day of Erastus, Oathday 7:52 P.M; Outlander Tavern
You find yourself in the Outlander Tavern on a warm summer’s evening. A hastily constructed structure on the outskirts of Lastwall’s capital city, Vigil. A single story building with fresh cut planks for walls and ceiling, and covered structures with cots for sleeping in the back that anyone could rent for a few coppers. It wasn’t much to look at, tables, stools, a bar and candle light. It had sprung up out of necessity. There had been an influx of volunteers for the crusade, and not everyone liked to drink in crusader bars, with knights who oft had unreasonably high opinions of themselves.
It wasn’t all that busy this evening. The door was thrown open to let in the cool air coming down from the mountains. Only about ten patrons sat about. The owner and “innkeeper” if you could call this an inn, sat behind the bar wiping down wooden tankards with a cloth. A man and woman sat at a table playing cards.
The rest of the patrons were obviously adventurers, recruits that had responded to Ulthun’s call. Here for money or glory.
You had received a summons to meet here at 8:30pm bearing the official seal of Lastwall, and signed by an officer you had yet to meet or even hear of by the name of Tonald Emils.
He didn’t appear to be here yet, but from the looks of the people arriving around the same time as you, you venture a guess that they were summoned as well.
Faolan comes early, eagerly, smiling through the door, with the scroll still in his hand. He strides to the bar, settles in on a stool, and orders a pint of whatever's fresh.
As with other Ulfen men, he stands tall and is broadly built. He wears leathers that look several seasons too old (and a little tight), but his real pride seems to be a large battered round heavy shield - carefully manufactured and grasped. He’s clearly a man who knows the value of a good shield. Though his clothes are lighter than you might find in the north, he does sport a fringe of fox fur on his cloak - a throwback to a colder climate.
He also wears a crossbow with minor quiver and dagger at his hip, but no other weapons of note. HIs pack seems light, and a holy symbol to Gorum, a small stone affair, hangs on his chest.
He doesn't know this Tonald Emils, but he looks forward to making his acquaintance. He wonders too how the job will compare with his last trip. It was rough, and there was more killing than he'd like, but it was fun at times too, and he got to test his metal.
He waits, uncharacteristically slowly nursing his pint and looking around the room.
using beast speech with her war trained yak
Okay Roy, try not to get into any trouble, they just have a tie off. I'm going to leave it loose in case we need to leave in a hurry.
spotting Faolin she sits down next to him and with a playful familiar tone:
"I just can't seem to shake you, you crusty old merc."
puts a gold on the bar
"Wine if you have it, ale if you don't and breakfast for the both of us give him about twice what you give me.
back to Faolin
"You know anything about this job?
"Ellagaria! Good to see you. I wondered if this net would have grabbed you as well. And it has!" She's quicker than he to the purse, and so he accepts her offer of food.
"No, I don't know much. 5gp a day or take the knights oath, but for the life of me I can't remember what that is. I feel as if I should know it, but I don't. Do you?" ha asks hopefully.
Amara took a deep breath as she approached the outlander Tavern. As she approached Amara whispered to herself I will not yell at anyone, I will not make a scene, I will not draw attention to myself.
Amara’s plan to keep a low profile had been going really well until a few days ago, when she had come across a particularly cantankerous old man and his particularly yappy dog, who’d decided they didn’t like the look of her scythe.
Long story short it turned out sending an old man running off down the street in fear was an extremely efficient way of drawing attention to ones self. Since then she’d decided to avoid people wherever possible, which had consequently made her very bored indeed,
On the bright side the geographical positioning of the outlander tavern was pretty convenient.
Which left her with one major concern, what kind of military man was this Tonald Elmis character. The utilitarian kind that understood the ends justify the means. Or the bleeding heart holy crusade kind. She rather hoped it wasn’t the latter.
Amara stepped into the tavern and glanced around, she couldn’t help noticing the Gathlain at the bar but other than that it seemed like a gathering of your average adventurer types. To her relief it looked at though she’d got there before Elmis.
Amara strode across the Tavern floor to the bar Wine if you have it, something stronger if not Amara placed a gold piece on the bar and turned to take a look round the tavern.
The sun was closing in on it's zenith when Hjorleaf rose from his festive night. The woman that slept next to him moaned and rolled over as he got out of his bed. He bathed, groomed and dressed all while she slept. When it was time to leave he nudged her gently and sat down on the bed. Her eyes opened and she smiled up at the man caressing his arm. He returned the smile as his eyes roamed down her figure. His voice soft and gentle Jeg vil gjerne bli, men dagen er sløsing bort og jeg har mye å gjøre ennå. Rommet er ditt til i morgen hvis du vil.
She stared up at him and laughed.
I still have no idea of what you are saying
He reached out and cupped her chin and leaning in, he kissed her long and hard. Standing up, he shoulder his pack and left the room with out looking back.
Hjorleaf spent the day roaming the city collecting supplies to replenish that what he lost on his travels getting to this city. He found the tavern that he was told to meet at well in advance so that he knew where it was located. As the hours pass, he finally makes his way to the tavern at the appointed time.
The tavern was rustic and more to his liking than those closer to the center of the city. He moved to the open doorway and looked in. Standing there as he scans the room and the others in the tavern, he takes note of the occupants. The two humans playing cards, the human and a fey, and another human. The card players may be locals...the male might be Ulfen, he looks like he is here the same as me....twig girl...only in the south. Hope I do not sit on her..the female...not certain of her. He does not see anyone that would appear to be the soldier he was to meet, so he made his way to the bar. The bartender sits a wooden mug on the bar in front of him as he approaches. What would you like big guy... Picking up the mug in his hand, Hjorleaf looks at it with disdain. It is small and inadequate for his needs. He places the wooden mug back on the bar along with a few silver coins. He reaches behind his back and pulls out from his pack a large drinking horn. The horn is etched in Elder Futhark runes with silver bands in several areas along the horn. The tip has a small silver wolf attached to it. The horn curves slightly and wraps itself around his forearm as he grabs it in the middle. He extends his arm forward towards the barkeep. Mead When the barkeep looks at the horn and back up at him, Hjorleaf places a few more coins on the bar. He takes his horn of mead and walks over to a table and leans his ax against it. He then places his pack on the chair and sits on the floor.
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Man, what a refreshing sight that is! a weary- looking man thinks to himself as a tavern slowly begins to crawl into place. How many months of travel- well, would've been less, had we not stopped in every inn and tavern for some games- but hey, the memories! He smiles, and jiggles his slightly more than- empty purse. Definetly worth it.
He moves his brown hair out of his purple, off- hued eyes, and enters the bar. Note said 8:30pm, I think, and someone named Enoch Tomils- no, Torvald Emils, still not right- Tonald Emils! That's the name!
He spies several tough- looking adventurers around the tavern, and a few of the locals off playing cards to the side, and immediately makes his choice. To the card tables!
He saunters over, and, with a sigh, drops his bag to the ground. "One more game for the weary traveler?" he asks the pair, flashing a giant smile.
Wearing a green and sandy brown dress, its edge touching the ground, along with a hooded mantle, Alma pushed open the door to the makeshift watering hole.
The basics for sustaining themselves.
Inside she saw the variety of patrons, and the interior was not much different from what she had expected it to be.
On the other hand, a few people stood out. Some especially muscular men and two females, the little fey of them was most remarkable.
But of those, the woman with the scythe drew the main attention.
That's the woman the talk the other day was about.
Alma walked over, and sat down near Amara.
"You have an unusual choice for a weapon. Those big tools can become troublesome in tight quarters for their swing, do they not?"
replying to Faolan:
I don't know the specifics of the oaths of these knights but in general I know I'm not one for taking oaths. I'm not oath taker.
eying Hjorleaf as he comes in and commenting again to Faolan:
That is a tall glass of ale, here's hoping he's here to join up on our side!
I don't know the specifics of the oaths of these knights but in general I know I'm not one for taking oaths. I'm not oath taker.
"Aye, I know what you mean, but what if oath takers make more money? Would you take the oath then? I know it depends on what the oath is, but assume it's nothing too far from what you'd do anyway. Maybe with less killing." he grins.
eying Hjorleaf as he comes in and commenting again to Faolan:
That is a tall glass of ale, here's hoping he's here to join up on our side!
"I hope so. I think I may have heard of him, I've certainly seen him around a time or two - he's hard to miss! Should we invite him over?" he asks his companion amiably - happy to shift to a larger table.
"Hey big guy, why don't you join us?"
She will repeat that in Common, Sylvan, Draconic, Elven, Halfling, Orc, Aklo, Auran, Giant, Goblin, Dwarven
Hoping he understands one.
She also absentmindedly let's Gale (her raven) peck some seed from her hand.
be nice Thought Amara to herself as she turned to face Alma, smiling warmly. Perhaps, I can’t say I spend much time swinging it in tight quarters, or much time swinging it at all for that matter, it’s mostly just for show really, family heirloom
Amara studied Alma intently, there was something about her she couldn’t quite place are you here at the behest of Elmis? as she spoke a couple of empty glasses tipped over for no apparent reason in her periferal vision and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes irritably. Must be a draft she said almost reflexively.
She seems uneasy at my questioning.
"Elmis, the sender of the letter. Yes, that is the reason for me coming here. Although it would seem a lot of people have."
Alma dismisses any offer of a drink from the barkeep, should he ask.
One of the fallen glasses turn back upright on the counter.
"My, what flexible glasses they have here."
Amara did her best not to glare at the glasses damn bloody haunting bloody damn ghosts. very flexible indeed she said a little distractedly, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it but there was something curious in Alma’s voice.
so dear, I don’t believe I caught your name she said offering Alma her hand I go by Amara, planning on taking the oath, or just the 5 gold pieces a day? Or perhaps you just fancied a look she asked with a curious smile, eyes narrowing just a little.
"No, 5 gold per day for me. I'm not taking any oath for those 'holy warriors'. Right as their intention to fight the orcs may be, i'm not too keen to stay around their sort for too long."
"..fancied a look?", Alma doesn't seem to get it. Some aspects of the living were beyond her understanding or experience.
Amara’s gaze lingered on Alma for a moment and then slowly withdrew her hand and calmly placed it on her lap. Dont say anything, don’t say anything, don’t swing the scythe in a bloody tight quarter
I must say I believe we agree when it comes to the holy warrior types, not exactly my speed all a little bit too zealous for my tastes. Amara smiles wondering if perhaps Alma was struggling with a second langauge. was curious to see who else might be invited she clarified hopefully helpfully.
Anyway, you’ve seen my scthye, now you show me one of your tricks
Alma extended her hand in time to shake it.
Her hand was as cold as a morning fog.
After that....
"My tricks?"
A nearby glass found its way from 5 feet away to next to Amara's hand, sliding across the counter when nobody was paying attention.
Just for a moment Amara’s eyes narrowed to a slit for just a moment as she felt Alma’s preternaturally cold hands. Before she returned to her friendly smile.
Well you are interesting
Perhaps tricks isn’t the right words, but I don’t suppose anyone whose turned up here wouldn’t have some rather interesting capabilities
Amara glanced at the glass and wondered, perhaps these weren’t her ghosts, her ghosts tended to smash glasses.
Then again, perhaps they were just in a good mood.
Fourth Day of Erastus, Oathday 8:31 pm; Outlander Tavern
The bartender shuffles about filling all drink orders as they are placed. Something stronger is placed in front of Amara as the bartender woefully laments the wine shortage that has been caused by the arrival of so many nobles in the city proper for the crusade.
The card players make a seat available for the newcomer and deal him in.
The door to the tavern is darkened by the silhouette of a lanky man around six feet tall. He wore a dark cloak, green but dark enough to seem black. He had dirty brown hair and appeared to be about forty. He is wearing a patch of Lastwall on his lapel but little else to signal his allegiances. His forehead is marked with the letter O on it’s side and struck through with a vertical line, closer inspections shows that this is a brand. His neck is marked with a thick scar the whole way around. He is armed with a shortbow and shortsword as well as several daggers.
He walks with a slight limp to a corner table and loudly pulls extra chairs until there are about ten in all. Taking a mug off a passing tray he empties it in a single draught. Setting it on the table and lighting a pipe he speaks with a coarse voice, like gravel being raked over the rocks.
”My name is Emils, I believe some of you have received my invitation.” he glances at the obviously armed group of people in the room. ”If you could please be seated, we have urgent business to discuss.” he motions to the chairs and sits down himself, setting several files on the table in front of him on crisp parchment.
As you sit you notice one of the files has your name on it. Puffing on his pipe, Tonald Emils seemingly ignores everyone for a few moments as he goes through some of his files. Looking up he hands each of the people seated at the table two files, one with the individual's name on it and the second appears to be a dossier of some kind.
”As you can see, my people have been scouting you for quite some time now.” Emils begins. He smiles a wry smile, ”I have a feeling you’re just the sort I’m looking for.” He sets a leather bound scroll on the table and unfurls it. It is the most complete map of Belkzen you’ve ever seen, which isn’t saying much since few maps exist and the ones that are detailed are hundreds of years old. ”In a week and a half, Ulthun will send the advance guard down the flood road to check the way for the main crusade which will depart at the end of the month. I have been given a different task. Few within the commanding ranks or the War College have any sort of respect for my brand of warfare, but those that do are the ones who have brought you here.” he points a leathery finger at the map.
”There are three ways into Belkzen, only one of which is a viable path for an army.” you look at where he is pointing, ”The flood road, a wide dry riverbed that will run straight north from the northeast corner of Lastwall all the way to the Hordeline and beyond.” he taps out his pipe on the wooden table and orders an ale while repacking it again.
”It is the other two ways that concern me.” He points again, ”The forest straight north of Vigil, most oft used by the crusader scouts. And the western wasteland that runs the western expanse of the Orc territory. Now, there are likely to be Orcs in all three of these routes, but the forest hides other dangers, and the wasteland is filled with great and primal beasts if the Orcs we’ve questioned are to be believed.” He pauses almost seemingly for dramatic effect. ”What I need from you folks is to engage in a guerrilla war, a ground resistance in the Orcs own territory. Your focus will be to find and engage military targets by whatever means necessary and eliminate the greenskins wherever they may be found. The path you take is yours to choose. You’ll rendezvous with the crusade proper at the end of the month to resupply and collect some payment. This is a black op and as such I’ve been authorized to offer you all 15 gold pieces a day with rewards for confirmed kills of Orc Chieftains and Shamans. When you reach the Hordeline, ask only for me or the leader of the College of Scouts if I’m dead for some reason.” he laughs heartily for a moment at the notion. ”Though if I’m dead your all likely to have been dead for a while.” he calms himself from laughing.
Steely eyed again he says ”That’s the offer. If it offends any fine sensibilities then you can take the oath and die in battle with the rest of the chromers. Or you can do something that matters and get paid at the same time.”
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"Here here!" Abaos cheers at the mention of getting paid. He smiles, visions of wealth and riches dancing in his head. And, of course, figuring out was this thing is, he thinks, fingering the broken compass he always keeps on him.
Pretty crazy how they've managed to collect all this information about me, he thinks silently to himself. He shrugs his shoulders. Ah, who cares. What's on the schedule?
He opens the dossier handed to him and begins reading.
"War is ugly but what the Orcs do to the land is uglier still. Oaths are for children, money sounds good I'm in. Though some upfront retainer coinage or gear and supplies would go far in solidifying this endeavor.
A little good faith.
Hjorleaf stops drinking for a moment as he tries to understand what the tiny creature was saying. It was made worse when she started to speak in different languages. His brow furrows...
hva i helvete?
He stares at her as she continues to speak, not understanding what she was saying. Then he caught a few words in the guttural language of orcs and understood what she was trying to say.
As he starts to stand up he shakes his head.
hun sprer seg som Gullinkambi
He finishes his horn of mead, Hjorleaf is about to start his way over to the table when a man enters the tavern. Watching the man walk by, he notices the brand and marks on his neck and nods.
tøff sønn av en tisse
He makes his way to the bar and orders more mead. After taking a big draft, he turns around to find out what the fey wants of him. That was until the man started to talk.
Grabing his pack and weapon, he makes his way to the table and drops his equipment. He pulls a chair out and returns it to the table it was originally removed from. Walking back, Hjorleaf sits on the floor again and listens to what this southerner has to say.
Seeing the file of papers in front of him does nothing to move the large man. The file remains unopened as he continues to drink.
Standing up and finishing his mead, A slight belch comes out. He wipes his mouth with his arm and nods at the man. A simple nod to confirm his desires to move forward with this mission. He turns around and walks to the bar.
mer mead
Amara’s attention was drawn to Elmis as he entered the bar and the wait is over she says sipping her drink gratefully.
She crossed to one of the chairs picking up her folder, folding one leg over the other, her eyes skimming over her file. Well thats intimidating.
In spite of the personal invasion however, which she had to admit she did find a little flattering she did think the proposal sounded interesting Id probably need to acquire some onyx, would that be possible she suspected if anyone in the Vigil could point her to onyx it would be Elmis.
Alma looks into the file, and finds it describing her many visits throughout the city and her regular social network, as well as her residence.
Fortunately, nothing mentioned suspicions of her not being what she appeared to be.
"Out of curiosity, mister Elmis. Since it's obvious you've been spying on us, be we either newcomers to-, or inhabitants of the city, are your ranks so thin that you request we join our effort?"
Faolan listens carefully to Emils' speech as he leafs through his file. Wow, they know everything, my whole life is in here. This is a thorough organization. They won't leave us hanging I bet!
At the end he slams his flagon down, "Here! Here!" he agrees.
He nods at what Ellagaria has to say as well.
"For valor and wealth, I will join you!" he very nearly shouts for emphasis.
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A gaunt, creepy elf finally speaks up. "Yes, this is what I am trained for. This is why I came here. I will hunt your orcs." Sezelrian tries not to be obvious about staring at the scarred neck.
Hjorleaf continues to look on at Emils, waiting for him to continue....
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"Forget my request let's hunt some orcs!"