(5E) Odyssey of the Dragonlords - By Supreme Being (Inactive)

Game Master scranford

The place to adventure

The future of Thylea looks grim. Monsters menace the roads, and corruption threatens the cities. The storm god Sydon demands daily sacrifices at every temple, and his sister-wife Lutheria kidnaps children for her secret rituals. The Five Gods, who once protected the settlers, are silent. And now, the Oracle has prophesied the Doom of Thylea: the death of gods, the destruction of Mytros, and the total annihilation of the mortal races.

You are one of a group of warriors who have been summoned to the Heartlands in an attempt to avert this coming catastrophe. You each have reasons for answering the call, but rumors of your coming have already spread across the land.

So....

The Sour Vintage is a traditional country inn located at a crossroads, about twenty miles east of the City of Estoria. The exterior is rustic wood painted black, and the sign hanging from the door depicts a woman carrying a basket full of grapes. Inside the tavern, a haze of pleasant tobacco smoke lingers in the air. You hear the clinking of mugs and the muttering of patrons, most of whom are farmers.

You have been summoned here by a woman named Kyrah who wants to hire you for a ‘difficult task’. She has promised a sizable reward, and more information about the Oracle’s prophecy.

Coronus had traveled the last day on his own up the valley from the Greater Steppes. He said his goodbyes to his companions this morning after weeks on the move, but so close to Estoria he did not want to risk them. They had discussed and speculated what it meant for him to be selected, instead of his father. The conclusion was that the weight of the race of centaurs rested on his withers. He had been summoned not them. This was the closest that he been to the cities of the invaders.

He opened and pushed through door ducking under the lintel. The muttering of the patrons stopped. All eyes turned toward the centaur. The inn was so small with a haze of smoke that tickled, then caught in his throat. He coughed like a new smoker, which triggered a chuckle and was enough to restore the conversations of the locals. The centaur found a spot large enough for him to sit near a table. He moved especially slowly and carefully.

His hair and tail are blonde while his horse body has pure white hair. His human body shows deep tans lines where his chain mail exposes his skin to the sun. His weapons's harness carries a sheathed longsword, sheathed shortbow, a quiver of arrows, and a shield which carried the emblem of the lidless eye upon his shield in open defiance of the descendants of the dragonlords. At his withers, he wears a pack with a coil of rope strapped to it, and a lion’s pelt is secured to his back and loin.

The woman who entered the tavern was in a sorry state.

She was a tall, muscular woman who was covered in ash, though it was clear from her face that she had been crying.

A crumpled scroll was held in one hand, and bow hung limply from her back, along with a pair of Kopus'.

She looked around the room for a long moment then approached the bar.

"I am looking for someone named Kyrah." she said, her voice flat.

Mateo traveled along the road leading to the crossroads, looking over the scroll one last time for any bits of information about who this Kyrah could be and what it could be that she wanted. The rumors had already begun it seemed; the great Oracle had called upon him in regards to one prophecy or another. The mere thought of it sent a chill down his spine and made his throat tighten.

"The Oath of Peace is going to be coming to an end. All of this...everything...will be coming to an end. If I am to meet my doom, it will be soon. It must be soon." Mateo thought to himself, his brows furrowed deep in thought. "Who know though, maybe Sydon has calmed down after these centuries of peace and just wants to talk?" The thought brought a laugh to the young soldier as he approached The Sour Vintage. Sydon will have calmed down just as much as his sister was actually aiming to kill Mateo just to bed him. No, the end of the world was coming and the Oracle had seen the truth. Maybe his doom was tied into it? It'd at least be a worthy tragedy for any poet who survived.

Opening the door to the inn, the haze of tobacco was reminiscent of the tavern that he and his fellow Centurions would go and celebrate in after a glorious battle. He quietly surveyed the scene though, looking for people of interest who may be the sender of the cryptic scroll. There were a few sights to take in for certain and Mateo was certain his was one as well.

The young man that had entered into the inn stood around five feet and nine inches tall, his skin a rich tan from years out in the sun while his eyes were as dark as the tied back weave of hair upon his head. Clean-shaven, he looked young but the pointed ears along the side of his head betrayed his half-blooded heritage. His armor was light; mostly reinforced leather armor that allowed for quick mobility while still providing protection. An emblem upon his shoulder easily declared him as a Centurion hailing from Mystros. The double-edged sword known as a xiphos hung at his side, a shortbow in a sling, and a spear strapped to his back along with a backpack. He moved gracefully past the patrons there, who didn't pay the soldier too much mind.

At one table was unmistakable form of a centaur, one far away from their homeland. He had clashed with the barbarians and other native creatures that inhabited their homeland and knew enough to not be disrespectful as long as the same was regarded. If the two locked eyes, he would give a courteous nod of his head before moving towards the bar. He was moving in close enough to hear the distraught woman ask for Kyrah by name, which immediately gained his attention. Okay with just observing for now, he would saddle onto a seat nearby and listen in innocuously to see what was revealed.

Near the fire, a dark-skinned woman was arguing with a waitress over some inconsequential triviality "...yes but you didn't say so. Truly you would stop a traveler from using the well? You own all the waters seeping through the earth...If you never said, how am I supposed to know?" Apparently, the traveler had fetched water without asking first and didn't realize there was a cost, or simply didn't want to pay...one of the two. The water sat between them rather neutral, in a handsome clay pot adorned with the legends of Dragonlords.

They both seemed quite frustrated, and the dark-skinned woman looked rather sickly...she kept scratching a scabby, pus-dripping wound on her forearm lightly bound with linen. She was muscular but lean, a flat plank from the bottom of her chin to her toes...for a perceptive eye, there were a few hastily concealed pieces of bronze about the folds in her simple garb.

Finally the waitress gave an exasperated sigh as if she didn't want to look at the ugly woman anymore and stormed off rolling her eyes. Novyn sipped her water, but now it tasted rather bitter.

A figure in scholarly robes enters the tavern. He doubts for a second, letting his eyes get used to the light - or absence of it. It doesn't take more than the fraction of a moment, though, and when he gets in, his elven factions explain why.

The elf smiles at everybody who cares to pay attention. He's got dust all over his clothing, and on his light brown hair. When he reaches the bar, he asks for a bowl of wine and some goat cheese; while waiting for his order, he takes a look round.

A dark skinned woman is sipping water with a bitter look in her eyes. Aristeides mentally classifies her as "potentially Kyrah".

Somewhere else, a dark-skinned young man with some weapons, probably a soldier, by the looks. Aristeides is about to think "not Kyrah", but then he thinks his summoner shouldn't necessary be a woman just because he/she uses a woman's name.

Another woman, more warlike it seems. She asks for Kyrah, so not Kyrah. Or maybe she's playing the fool with us? Could be. "Let's put her in reserve" he thinks, not wanting to discard any possibility.

And finally, a Centaur. How not to notice? "Also very warlike, by the tanlines of his armour." Kyrah? Don't think so, but how to be sure?

He decides to wait and ask before he makes a move. He perhaps doesn't even need to make a move - his potential employer might already know his appearance.

Based on the armor and trappings, a Centurion of Mytros steps into The Sour Vintage, his makhaira sheathed and his shield slung along his broad back. From the clasp attaching his cape to his breastplate, he wears the rank of decanus- a leader of men in rank if not in practice. The scruffy beard and unkempt hair of the centurion denotes more than a year out of service rather than the strict adherence to Centurion regulations.

Lysander smiled a genial, if somewhat beleaguered grin to the innkeep as he places his dorata gently against the wall and takes an offered glass of the inn's house wine. The wine proves far from as sour as the name declaimed.

According to the missive he'd received, a woman named Kyrah would pay him handsomely for some kind of dire mission. And that it would somehow address the Oracle's prophecy. Lysander was well aware of the rumors that his name had been part of the Oracle's prophecy, it was his lot as a scion of the gods. But it was the offer of coin that interested him this day. His stipend in retirement from the Centurions guaranteed the former centurion a modest home in Mytros, but more coin could mean a farm or manor outside of the city and far from those that expect great things from the demi-god.

Still, in his thirty-three years, Lysander had managed to avoid Estoria, the city ruled by the father he had never met. It made him uncomfortable, to say the least. In his uncertainty, he scans the room. This Kyrah would find him, undoubtedly. But an inn filled with patrons including the likes of those that he has fought in years past- centaur, barbarians, and..."'Teo?" he says to himself.

Lysander grins widely, downs his cup and offers a coin and his thanks to the innkeep along with the empty glass before approaching the smaller centurion.

"You're far from home, Centurion." Lysander says with an outstretched hand and wide grin for his old comrade-in-arms. "How have you been, Mateo?"

Mateo's eyes had been carefully taking in the scene, listening to the comings and goings around him. The centaur was the most obvious thing in the room; dressed in weapons and armor and looking for battle it seemed. Yet it was strange to see them here; Estoria was known for being the bulwark that the natives and barbarians shattered themselves on time and time again. Why would such a man come here then, especially alone? Perhaps they too were involved in this Kyrah business, maybe even an associate?

The dark-skinned woman arguing with the waitress over a misunderstanding stood out as well. She had a wound on her chest that was just barely visible, along with bits of weaponry hidden on her person. She looked athletic, wiry, the kind of material you'd look for perhaps in an Odyssean. If anyone was this mysterious Kyrah, it'd be her so far.

Then there was the other elf that had come into the inn, dressed in the robes of a scholar. Dusty from the road, he made his way bar immediately and took in the scene. There was a chance that this was Kyrah as well; the scholarly types always had work that needed to be done by those good with a blade and quick with their wit.

As he was ascertaining the crowd, the door opened again and a smirk came across the Centurion's face as he recognized the bearded figure that stepped in. Never could he forget his brother-in-arms and the battles that they had been through. It was worth giving the man a shot, just to make sure he hadn't gone blind since his time off from the frontlines.

At the mention of his name, his ears twitch just a little before he swivels around on his stool. The little smirk has stretched into a wide grin at this point, the smaller half-elf standing up before taking Lysander's arm in a warrior's greeting.

"As are you, fearless leader. I'd thought you'd been fat and dumb by now." The mirth in Mateo's voice was unmistakable. There was an apprehension in his mind though; Lysander's appearance was no mere coincidence. A demigod just didn't walk through any ol' door. The good news was that this Kyrah was likely not setting a trap. The bad news was that the work was actually going to be work then.

"I have been well, Lysander, very well. The Centurions keep me busy with struggles against Aresia, battles against monstrous beasts, the usual. There is no rest for an Odyssean." Talented soldiers with the skills that Mateo had were commonly sent away on tasks to handle problems that normal soldiers could not do. It was where he had met the young demigod, the two becoming close friends after fighting one harrowing battle after another.

"I've actually followed your lead; I am retired now. Well...on extended leave, given the circumstances that are coming..." The Oaths of Peace were coming to an end and, should the Oracle's prophecy be believed, all the wrath of the titans would be felt upon Thylea. It was to be the end of the world. "...I'm guessing something though, my friend. You're here to meet someone, are you not?" Mateo arched his brow just a little bit, a quirk that showed that he knew more than he was saying.

Just to add more people to the RP, I'm going to do some stuff with NPCs. Strike me down, oh mighty GM, if I am doing anything wrong.

The bartender would seem to just grunt and shrug his shoulders, albeit with a worried look at the ash-covered, tear-stained woman. A throat would clear next to her and the smaller Centurion's focus would now be on her, a small but concerned smile on his face as he nodded towards her.

"You're looking for Kyrah? You're not the only one. However, you do look like you could use a drink. Bartender, a drink and some bread and cheese for the woman here." A mug with beer and a plate of bread and cheese would be placed before Kaia. Mateo made no movement to get closer, keeping his distance from the woman whose aura came off like a storm. "I know I am a stranger but...are you okay?" The was no convoluted manipulation behind his concern, no secret goal. The woman seemed honestly shaken and if anything, Mateo could commiserate. He acted before asking Lysander what he thought but he knew the big man's mind well enough; the two were good people at the end of it. Soldiers and warriors of Mystros but good people, nonetheless.

Kaia's Prequel

Aristeides Prequel

Coronus's Prequel

Lysander's Prequel

Mateo's Prequel

Novyn's Prequel

The Sour Vintage is a traditional country inn located at a crossroads, about twenty miles east of the City of Estoria. The exterior is rustic wood painted black, and the sign hanging from the door depicts a woman carrying a basket full of grapes. Inside the tavern, a haze of
pleasant tobacco smoke lingers in the air. You hear the clinking of mugs and the muttering of patrons, most of whom are farmers.

You have been summoned here by a woman named Kyrah who wants to hire you for a ‘difficult task’. She has promised a sizable reward, and more information about the Oracle’s prophecy.

Suddenly all of your attentions, and questions are answered by the sudden appearance of a beautiful woman at a large table in the corner. You would all swear she wasn't there a moment ago, because she is hard to miss.

A dark-haired woman calls you over to a table in the corner. She wears a white traveling dress with practical leather boots, and she carries a large satchel that appears to contain dozens of scrolls, along with plentiful writing supplies.

"Greetings, I am Kyrah. Thank you for answering my summons. I will be direct. I am here as an agent of the Oracle. She believes that great destinies await you all, but great destinies are forged by great deeds".

"A terrifying giant boar has been laying waste to the Heartlands, slaughtering everything in its path. This boar was corrupted by the Titans and sent to punish the mortals of Thylea for their continued faith in the Five Gods. Many have attempted to hunt the boar. All have failed".

"If you wish to win fame and fortune, as great heroes should, then you must prove to the people of Thylea that you are the warriors of the Oracle’s prophecy. Hunt this boar and offer it to the gods as a sacrifice".

Now is a good time for the hero's to gather around the table, and introduce themselves.

Map of the area around the Sour Vintage has been posted.

"Ehm..." Aristeides doesn't even know where to start. Oracle? A boar? If this is a joke...

"The Oracle wants us to hunt a boar?" He knows it sounds silly, but actually this seems like an impossible task for him. Maybe the others she gathered are soldiers or hunters, but... What would the Oracle, if she's really involved in this, want from Aristeides when hunting is the matter at hand?

"And what is"The Oracle" expecting from me? To be the bait?" He does the inverted commas sign with his fingers, stating he's doubting this woman comes from the Oracle at all.

Kaia turned as the woman spoke and stalked to the table. She slammed the note down and said "Where is Kathandrax." while her voice was flat, there was a ting of rage in it.

Before the ash-covered woman could respond, there was suddenly a figure in the corner that wasn't there a moment ago. Mateo swallowed down the rest of his beer, paying the bartender the cost, before turning towards Lysander and giving a nod. "Kyrah, I think." As he settled down at the table, his suspicions were confirmed by the dark-haired woman.

Mateo listened to the woman as she spoke, laying down the knowledge that she had been given. Of course there was a monster. There was always a monster. There was no irritation shown upon Mateo's face though as he listened carefully, just like he would when he was given a briefing by his commanding officers. Hunting monsters was something that an Odyssean was trained to do and if it was required, he would hunt down this boar as well.

The others had some issues with the task though, the angry woman and the scholar. The former asked for some strange name and Mateo did not recognize it. Perhaps it was involved with what had happened to bring such anger into her heart. The latter seemed confused about what they could do to help hunt down a boar of immense size and violent disposition.

"I doubt that scholar, you don't look like you run much faster than myself and I won't be outrunning a monstrous boar anytime soon." Mateo looked between all of them, clearing his voice a little bit. "So...we've all been contacted by the Oracle and brought down to this simple inn. Now it could be a trick, like our scholarly friend believes, but it would need to be quite the impressive trick to trick all of us."

"My name is Mateo of House Nikas, proud citizen of Mytros and member of the Centurions. I've hunted monsters before and a corrupted boar seems like something the titans would do. I am skilled with blade, spear, shield, and most importantly...my mind. Now I am sure you all have something that needs to be done, questions answered, I know that I do." Lysander would know the rumors around Mateo, the doomed and terrible luck that followed him. The half-elf wondered if such rumors had reached this far inland yet about him. "This beast needs to be put down...for the good of everyone. We do this, earn some coin, maybe a bit of fame, and if this is all a trick, then we come out a bit ahead but if it isn't?" Mateo let the unspoken answer linger. If this is truly a servant of the Oracle, then who knows what they have to gain. All Mateo knew was that his current path was set to destruction and only the Oracle could show him the way out.

The centaur stands up and starts to maneuver slowly and carefully toward the large table in the corner where Kyrah arrived and is assembling the Avengers Heroes. He pulls out his staff from his sheath to steady him. At full height, his head towers almost seven feet tall, so he has to uncomfortably duck under the wooden ceiling joists.

He gets half way brushing tables and pushing chairs until he can go no further. He stairs down at the seated farmer until his table's conversation stops and the farmer looks up and up and up to face the centaur. "If I've been summoned to kill a terrifying giant boar, what do you think I can do to you?" The farmer's answer to the question is to jump up and out of the centaur's way. The centaur nods at the farmer and continues to steadily arrive at the table tapping his staff for balance. He ignores the attention he receives.

"I am Coronus. How can we find this boar? And, where do we meet you after we sacrifice it to the gods?" The centaur tersely introduces himself and asks the agent of the Oracle.

"Mateo is correct, scholar. Too much has gone into calling us all from lands near and far for this to be a trick."

Lysander looks long and hard at the centaur for a moment before finally nodding at Coronus. With a sigh, he adds "I had hoped that this mission would mean a good deal of coin, but if Mateo is going, than I'll have to join if only to keep his bacon from the fire."

He sits at Kyrah's table. "Lysander of Mytros." he says by way of greeting. he leans into Mateo while staring mildly agape at the muscular ash-covered woman and whispers "Is Kathandrax the boar?"

"No. It's something I have to kill."

The centaur was certainly a strange sight and he could understand Lysander's initial abrasiveness. The ones that they commonly met were not the friendliest type and everyone knew that the peace between the native races and the settlers was tenuous at best. Mateo had learned from hard experience that not everyone was as they seemed on the surface and even a centaur could be a friend, if given enough time and the right circumstances. Initial meetings were not the place to make a lifelong kinship though. Mateo would at least scoot his seat over, making sure there was room for the centaur to be close to the table. Lysander's comment earned a roll of the eyes from the half-elf, who shook his head with a grin upon his face.

"You're coming? Ugh, there goes my chance to be famous. You know I would've been decanus if it was not for your mighty thews and supple thighs." The whisper earned a chuckle from his friend, who shook his head for a moment before his smile faded somewhat. Kaia's statement was what he was expecting it to be; a tale of vengeance.

"A woman driven to vengeance then? I can actually feel the world quake around you, fair warrior. What is your name?" He would gesture to Kyrah, giving a nod. "While this woman before us is most certainly a striking example of what is to be woman, she is not the Oracle. The Oracle is something..." For a moment, Mateo had difficulty finding the words to describe her. Not that he had ever seen her before. No, he had only heard rumors and hearsay. What was agreed upon was that she was an unforgettable sight. "...something more. Again, no insult meant to you Kyrah."

"Coronus brings up a good point; is there a place we need to sacrifice this beast or is it more of a battlefield sacrifice. Where was it last sighted?" The best policy was information. If this thing was as infamous as she made it seem, it would be best to know whatever they could about it before they went out to defeat it. It could help keep them all alive, after all.

The woman seems to be telling the truth. Everybody around is believing her. Aristeides's logic, though, is telling him that this means nothing, and an elaborate plot could have very well been threaded for unknown reasons. Maybe they're the ones who are going to be sacrificed, who knows. The end of the Oath is near, after all.

But somehow, something in his stomach tells him this is his moment. Calling him to seize it, to use it and to become what he's always dreamt of.

So, hunting a big boar, uh? Well, for certain there are better suited folks here. Maybe... maybe they need an assistant. Or he can be helpful if other situations arise while tracking the boar. Bah! He's been through much to just reject destiny in its very own face.

"Okay, so, where is this boar located? What should we expect from it?" He pauses his questioning, looking around at everyone. "I am Aristeides, by the way."

Novyn listened with mild interest. So, it was a hunt...not completely outside her skill set. She had hunted boar before, and while aggressive they certainly didn't pose much challenge to track.

Instead, as the others chattered Novyn crept over to Kyrah's stash of scrolls, not stealing anything..but just to get a good clandestine peek...

Sleight: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

As the group settles down around the table you all search your memories for anything you might have heard about the others. (I've PM'd each of you what you have heard... maybe true... maybe not.

"I'm sure you all have your doubts and fears... and I am simply a messenger of the Oracle, I don't have all the answers, but I may have some.

She reaches towards her satchel of scrolls at the same time Novyn does. "Ah. A true fan of my poetry. I'll read you some before the night is done, no need to read them yourself". She gently removes Novyn's hand from within her satchel.

** spoiler omitted **

Kaia turned as the woman spoke and stalked to the table. She slammed the note down and said "Where is Kathandrax." while her voice was flat, there was a ting of rage in it.

Kyrah covers her mouth with a dainty hand and giggles. "Silly girl. I know one that used to use that name, and if he still lives he will not take kindly to your idle threats. If I were in your shoes I'd try to find some help with that task, and perhaps hone your skill a bit before you confront that one. As a direct answer to your question, I don't know, perhaps that is something the oracle wishes to speak with you about".

"A woman driven to vengeance then? I can actually feel the world quake around you, fair warrior. What is your name?" He would gesture to Kyrah, giving a nod. "While this woman before us is most certainly a striking example of what is to be woman, she is not the Oracle. The Oracle is something..." For a moment, Mateo had difficulty finding the words to describe her. Not that he had ever seen her before. No, he had only heard rumors and hearsay. What was agreed upon was that she was an unforgettable sight. "...something more. Again, no insult meant to you Kyrah."

"Her name is Kaia," Lysander answers his friend with a nod of acknowledgement at the warrior woman. "I've actually heard of her. A raider born from a line of raiders. Practically born with a blade in hand, from what I've heard." There's respect in the big man's voice- a respect for hard earned reputations. The Centurion directs his gaze at Kaia. "If Kathandrax is your enemy, they have much to fear."

"And you'd have never made decanus," Lysander adds to Mateo with an elbow. "It was the biceps, not the thighs. The thighs only got me in trouble."

The smile still on his lips, he turns to the poet. "But please, tell us of this boar, lady. You say it has been corrupted. How? You say many have failed. Why have they failed? If the likes of us have been fortold, how are we different than those that have come before?"

The centaur stands up and starts to maneuver slowly and carefully toward the large table in the corner where Kyrah arrived and is assembling the Avengers Heroes. He pulls out his staff from his sheath to steady him. At full height, his head towers almost seven feet tall, so he has to uncomfortably duck under the wooden ceiling joists.

He gets half way brushing tables and pushing chairs until he can go no further. He stairs down at the seated farmer until his table's conversation stops and the farmer looks up and up and up to face the centaur. "If I've been summoned to kill a terrifying giant boar, what do you think I can do to you?" The farmer's answer to the question is to jump up and out of the centaur's way. The centaur nods at the farmer and continues to steadily arrive at the table tapping his staff for balance. He ignores the attention he receives.

"I am Coronus. How can we find this boar? And, where do we meet you after we sacrifice it to the gods?" The centaur tersely introduces himself and asks the agent of the Oracle.

At the farmers table was his wife, a young girl, and two almost adult sons, obviously twins as they looked so much alike. The young girl stood up in a protective stance in front of her father. "I thought you guys were supposed to be hero's. Is this how you treat those you're supposed to protect. Why aren't you out there killing this monster, instead of picking on simple people". Her angry glare follows you to the table. You hear grumbles of agreement follow you.

Mateo said wrote:

"A woman driven to vengeance then? I can actually feel the world quake around you, fair warrior. What is your name?" He would gesture to Kyrah, giving a nod. "While this woman before us is most certainly a striking example of what is to be woman, she is not the Oracle. The Oracle is something..." For a moment, Mateo had difficulty finding the words to describe her. Not that he had ever seen her before. No, he had only heard rumors and hearsay. What was agreed upon was that she was an unforgettable sight. "...something more. Again, no insult meant to you Kyrah."

"Her name is Kaia," Lysander answers his friend with a nod of acknowledgement at the warrior woman. "I've actually heard of her. A raider born from a line of raiders. Practically born with a blade in hand, from what I've heard." There's respect in the big man's voice- a respect for hard earned reputations. The Centurion directs his gaze at Kaia. "If Kathandrax is your enemy, they have much to fear."

"And you'd have never made decanus," Lysander adds to Mateo with an elbow. "It was the biceps, not the thighs. The thighs only got me in trouble."

The smile still on his lops, he turns to the poet. "But please, tell us of this boar, lady. You say it has been corrupted. How? You say many have failed. Why have they failed? If the likes of us have been fortold, how are we different than those that have come before?"

"All questions will be answered. Not all have failed in hunting one of these boars... Aetala! Please bring us more stew, drinks, and a tale of how you came to own this Inn".

The Innkeeper nods in agreement, and brings a tray of drinks to the table. "Aye. I can share my tale. You tell it much better bard, but I can get the point across".

The inkeeper pulls up her apron and shirt to show a nasty scar, fully healed. "This and the Inn you see around you are what remain of the last time such a beast stalked this land. About 20 years ago such a beast killed many farmers and huntsman. The bounty grew until myself, and my band of adventurers left Estoria to make our fortune. We killed the beast alright, but I'm the only one it left breathing. Needless to say I collected the sizable bounty, and decided that running an business was enough excitement for me". She then hustles back to grab bowls, and a large pot of the stew.

All... Insight DC 12

"I don't expect you to be experienced hunters. I've hired to trackers to help you on your quest. They are injured from their last encounter with the beast, and won't be much help in slaying it, but the have agreed to help you find the creature. They will meet you outside the tavern an hour before dawn... should you choose to prove your worth that is".

"As far as sacrificing to the gods...that is your decision. All the gods appreciate sacrifice, as do all the Titans. It is not my place to tell you how to pay tribute".

"And for those of you interested in material reward as well as doing what's right I offer this".

She pulls forth from her satchel a loosely wrapped bundle, and unwraps it to reveal a half dozen golden arrows. "Gold is probably not the best material to form arrows from, but it does add to their value, does it not"?

"Killing this beast should be enough proof to the Oracle that you are indeed the Heroes she has Foreseen. Once the task has been completed, and she accepts you as these hero's then you shall each receive one of these".

"For now let us fill our bellies with Aetela's fine fare, and rest for tomorrows journey. Perhaps after we dine, I'll regale you with some poetry".

Back before he moved passed the farmers.

At the farmers table was his wife, a young girl, and two almost adult sons, obviously twins as they looked so much alike. The young girl stood up in a protective stance in front of her father. "I thought you guys were supposed to be hero's. Is this how you treat those you're supposed to protect. Why aren't you out there killing this monster, instead of picking on simple people". Her angry glare follows you to the table. You hear grumbles of agreement follow you.

The centaur grins at the protective girl and pauses, "I've just been summoned here to kill a monster. I'll be happily away, as soon as I know where to go."

"And as for treating one another, how about your father? I've done my best moving around this tiny building to avoid upsetting tables, chairs and people. Even you saw that I've no where to pass to get to the business of heroes. I'm not as stealthy or graceful as a lion. Your father could have made room for me before I had to say something. But, he didn't. That's disrespectful. But, you're right, young one. I shouldn't have threatened him. So, I apologize to you."

Now at the table

His immediate questions answered, Coronus sits next to the table of heroes.
Insight: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

"Aye, I've heard of Kaia too. But, you can't believe everything that you've heard." The centaur grabs a drink and takes a sip.

Insight: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10
Lysander eyes the centaur. "Yes, we should not always believe what we hear. Mateo and I have done our tours in the steppes. We've heard stories of some of the tribes in the north." The centurion sips from a mug he had not noticed was there before. Truly, the Sour Vintage has excellent service.

"I may have heard of a chieftain's son, exiled when he tried to usurp his father. But we may not always believe what we are told. Perhaps we should ask more of the one person that seems to know the most about us." he turns again to Kyrah. "Perhaps you know the truth to us all."

"Silly girl. I know one that used to use that name, and if he still lives he will not take kindly to your idle threats. If I were in your shoes I'd try to find some help with that task, and perhaps hone your skill a bit before you confront that one. As a direct answer to your question, I don't know, perhaps that is something the oracle wishes to speak with you about".

"He owes me blood. He has taken that which he had no right to take, and I will end him." As she spoke, she unconsciously touched a necklace around her neck.

She then collapsed. She's been walking for days straight.

"Her name is Kaia," Lysander answers his friend with a nod of acknowledgement at the warrior woman. "I've actually heard of her. A raider born from a line of raiders. Practically born with a blade in hand, from what I've heard." There's respect in the big man's voice- a respect for hard earned reputations. The Centurion directs his gaze at Kaia. "If Kathandrax is your enemy, they have much to fear."

"And you'd have never made decanus," Lysander adds to Mateo with an elbow. "It was the biceps, not the thighs. The thighs only got me in trouble."

There was another scoff from the half-elf who shook his head for just a moment before giving a shrug.

"Well, it does mean that you have to stand in the front while I get to keep my good looks and charming personality. The gods giveth and taketh away, my older-looking friend. The biceps are still quite mighty though, good for you." Mateo did note the respect that his comrade's voice held for the woman covered in ash, tears, and anger. One had to be quite the warrior to gain the centurion's respect and to earn Lysander's was a large step in a good direction.

Mateo listens to the tale of Aetela carefully but even as he does, he takes another moment to study those that would be joining him on this hunt. Coronus was carefully watched by Mateo, whose face was remained impassive but focused on the centaur as he had his interaction with the farmers there. Slowly but surely, he looked over each hero that was to join this hunt with a more calculating eye.

Insight: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18

As he did though, he began to notice the garb of all those that were there in the room. These were not traders and travellers, looking for a place to rest before heading onwards to or from Estoria. These were farmers, looking for a place to shelter. They were looking for a place of refuge. They were looking for heroes.

As Lysander talked, it did bring a small and honest smile to Mateo's face. There was the leader that had welcomed into the centurions with open arms, who helped break away the shroud his dark fate had brought upon him. It was good to have him again and even with the friendly barbs that they threw at one another, there was a knot of anxiety that had come undone knowing he had a friend beside him in this journey.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

As Kaia began to fall, unconsciousness finally taking her, Mateo was there as swift as an arrow to let her fall onto his back rather than against the table or crack her skull against the floor. She was heavy and he was no Lysander but the half-elf took the weight before looking at everyone.

"The poor woman needs to rest. I think she has been walking for days." Helping move her through the crowd, asking politely for a farmer here and there to move, he would approach where Aetela was. "A room for the lady, I would like to cover her bath and food as well. She needs to rest."

So, the plan is taking shape.

When are we expecting to depart? I don't know what time of the day it is.

"So, with the help of these men, we should we able to find the boar quickly. Once done, I guess with the amount of muscle we're packing it should be a doable task."

Aristeides takes some goat cheese. He's always loved a good cheese with honey, traditionally given to guests in mountainous lands. "Do we expect a long journey? If so, I wouldn't mind asking for some olives or dry figs to take away. We don't want to rely on charity, these folks have enough already."

He asks for his bowl to be refilled with wine once again. "But be sure to water it properly, please - we need all our senses clear for the task at hand."

As Aetala served, Novyn shot daggers with her eyes at the woman she had been arguing over the well water with. She refused all but the bread, convinced the woman had spit in her portion.

Insight vs DC 12: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20

Novyn glanced around, actually quite disgusted by the collection of farmers in here...she never liked those with professions related to animal husbandry and agriculture. Always smelling of beasts and impossibly obstinate and self-righteous...still, she wondered why they had gathered here so full of fear.

Moreso, she wondered what qualities this Kyrah possessed to be seen as a leader by their ilk...the lone survivor of a group of bounty hunters? Last alive after betraying them all, more likely. And by her claims, in cohorts with the Oracle and able to spill forth golden arrows at a whim. No, that couldn't be gold...

"I call your bluff. That is not real gold."

@ Novyn>> The Innkeeper Aetala was the survivor of the hunting party, not Kyrah.

@ Aristeides>> You arrived at the Inn just before sunset. Kyrah has arranged for two hunters to meet you an hour before dawn tomorrow.

Oops, sorry...I done doofed it son. I guess just replace Kyrah with Aetala in my paragraph and it sort of makes sense...

Kyrah @ Novyn... "Believe what you wish. The hunting party will be leaving an hour before dawn. You... no all of you have a date with destiny. Whether you choose to accept your fate, or continue to dig clay under the ire of the city guard... With this last statement she stares at Novyn. "Is your choice. You have free will in this matter".

She then reaches into her pouch of never-ending scrolls, and pulls forth one. "Ah here. when read this scroll would remove exhaustion from an individual". She throws it on the table, then steps to the small stage in the center. "If you have any further questions, ask me after the reading.

She then steps to the stage, and begins to tell a common epic tale about a love affair between a Dryad and a Centaur.

DM Rolls

Which though she seems to be distracted, is still beautiful, and stirs the souls of many of the common people in the room.

Aristeides swings his gaze between the scroll and the sleeping woman. "Well, we're not going until tomorrow. Maybe a peaceful night of sleep can also heal exhaustion. I say we let her sleep."

After the show, the young elf decides it's time to rest. Being ready an hour before the dawn will require him to stand up quite early if he wants to have a look at his spellbook.

"Alright, folks, time for me to go to bed. See you tomorrow early. Then he turns to the woman in charge of the tavern. "Aetala? Sorry, is there a place to sleep here? I would like to retire myself for rest."

"And innkeeper, are there any preparations to be made to accommodate me?"

"I will stay up a bit longer to enjoy the entertainment and get to know my new companions a bit better, so I'm in no particular hurry for safe, comfortable bedding." Coronus asks Aetala and takes another sip of wine.

Aetala shows the group to the common room upstairs, as all the private rooms are taken by local families, and the few paying guests.

"Of course as you are doing a favor for our community the nights lodging... for what we have and the meal is my treat. I addition I'll prepare some travelling food for the morrow".

She is able to find warm dry accommodations for everyone in the common room, and even an old straw tick mattress for Kaia. She has entertained centaurs in the past, and has a suspension harness that she hangs from the central ceiling beam.

If anyone wishes to socialize any more, or has any further activities planned for the evening feel free to post. Otherwise tomorrow I'll advance the plot to dawn.

Novyn frowned, taking another scrupulous look at the golden arrow. So, the Oracle needed us to prove ourselves to the people by defeating this boar...in the cursed woman's simplistic view of the world, that didn't quite touch a nerve. But gold and fortune would. Still...she had to know if this wasn't some trick or not. Kyrah was unproven and untrustworthy according to the love-less thief. The Oracle's messenger had honeyed words which echoed the silver tongues of the Cult of the Snake...that was her belief.

She resolved to get a closer look at those arrows...

Either during her performance or late at night, Novyn would creep around and try to get her hands on one of the arrows to verify it is in fact gold.

Coronus would decline any suspension harness contraption. He's not that kind of centaur. He just asks for enough space on the floor to line down. He would remove his chain mail and use his bedroll (and longsword) to comfort his human torso.

"So, Lysander. You're from Mytros? I've never been. What's it like?" The centaur would stay up a bit to get to know what companions would stay up, which seems like the two soldiers from Mytros.

We can retcon this getting to know conversation, as progress the next morning. Or we could just summarize how much we share.

@Novyn

Mateo would help settle Kaia onto the straw bedding; a place to rest for the challenges ahead of them. There was a sad smile upon his face as he looked the woman over, the bruises and blisters on her feet, the ash that seemed to nearly stain her skin, yet she looked so peaceful now that exhaustion had taken her. Collecting her things and placing them beside her, he would shake his head.

"There are too many tragedies happening every day to stop them. What horror did you suffer through?" Mateo thought to himself, content once she seemed like she was peacefully at rest. Rising up, he would return to sit back with the others while Kyrah recited her poetry. Astreides was already on his way to bed, bringing a frown to the centurion's face. He had a few questions that he wanted to ask him before he went to sleep. Lysander and Coronus began to speak to one another, the latter asking about the former's city and what life was like there. Mateo vaguely listened to the conversation, his attention turning towards the only other companion that was still with them at the moment, the mysterios woman who called Kyrah's bluff.

"I don't believe I've caught your name and, since we're hunting a great beast tomorrow, I would like to. What brings you to these crossroads of destiny, looking for wisdom from the Oracle?" Mateo asked, waving down the server to receive another cup of beer. The night had just started and he wasn't part of a regiment anymore; tomorrow could spell his doom after all.

Lysander reclines leisurely as he sips from the bottle he had been given. "Busiest city in Thylea. Hundreds of bodies all trying to make a life. The politics of a big city made me long for long postings in the hinterlands or borders." Lysander takes a long swig. "Most days, I'd rather be fighting for my life near the Oldwood or on the steppes -no offense- than dealing with the unrealistic expectations of those that think they can use my blood status as a means to fit their political careers. If not for brothers like Mateo, I would have left them all behind long ago."

For a moment, Lysander considers the centaur. Not five years ago, they would have been expected to fight to the death. Now they shared a bottle and comfortable conversation.

"Is it true, what I've heard. About you trying to usurp you father and lead your people?" Better to the point than to dance around it.