We open on the town of Asylum, population: 237 Humanoids, 519 Goats, 456 Sheeps. 722 Chickens. more specifically, we open on the Goathorne inn, and the residents therein.
Behind the Bar is a dwarf woman, fair of hair and callous-handed who introduced herself as Ananda. in the kitchen you've heard the grumblings of Gelda, a dark-complected dwarf woman with hair gone prematurely grey. Running drinks and food, and lackadaisically chatting with the customers is Bester, a ruddy-complected teen with mussy red-brown hair. There was an old man, but he has gone to bed already.
The fireplace roars with a great fire, keeping the Autumn chill from the inn, and 4 large tables are available to sit at. upstairs are the rooms, and out back the stables and Woodshed.
hat brings each of you to the Goathorne this evening?
It was evening, the sun was starting to embrace the horizon. Hund couldn't see in the dark, and the things that came out at night worried him in his old frame. He spotted a tavern. Taverns were good places. Though he didn't need to eat or drink, they had people. They had light. They had walls to protect from the things in the dark. The scary things.
He turned off the main road from Asylum and ambled toward the tavern.
Mok walks into the small town, tired and hungry. The weird dog was still following him...or maybe it too was heading for this place.
Shrugging his shoulders, he moves towards the tavern and the hopes of a good meal and rest awaiting him...and maybe the dog...Hund..that was the weird noise it seemed to make.
Rusko had trudged into the town...what was it called...Asylum. He chuckled again at the name.
Sir Bearegard was laid up with gout in a larger town some 10 miles behind Rusko. He had told his squire to go exploring while he recovered. So , Rusko had set of down a likely , wagon rutted road and found himself standing before the Goathorne Inn.
Hearing a noise, he saw a 'real' orc walk into the light of the Inn. Startled, Rusko hurries into the warmth of the common roon, sitting his large bulk down near the fire.
Hund is laid out on the floor near the fire pit. It's not that he can feel the fire, it's just that in his experience people tend to react to him better when they see him next to a fire. Something about familiarity. Someone tried to explain it to him before, but he wasn't paying attention.
He looked up to see Mok walking in. He smiled. No one could tell; his facial structure wasn't built to show emotions. But internally he smiled. Mok, he said. His voice isn't the clearest, and the single word could easily be mistaken for some other noise, if one didn't know who Mok was.
Walking into the warmth and light of the tavern, Mok takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright candlelight. He could see the metal dog, Hund, laying beside the fire. He could swear that the beast called his name, but with the other sounds within the room, it was not clear. Regardless, he moves over to where the Hund lies and takes a seat close by.
"Ale and meat", he calls out to the mussy-haired youth who seems to be taking orders.
The Goathorne seems to brighten as two more customers enter. Bester glides over to where Rusko sits. Evening sir, Will you be wanting a room, or just dinner? he asks, polite as can be while still staying outside arms reach of the Orc.
Meanwhile, Ananda perks up and begins taking down mugs from the shelf, and bangs on the couter as Mok calls out. I'm afraid we're all out of meat and ale! she calls out, interupting Bester as he goes to greet Mok. You'll find we only have "Meat and ale, please". We mind out manners here at the Goathorne! She says, pronouncing it Go-thorn.
Baros had arrived earlier in the day and now sat a table, his head barely poking over the edge. Other than being skinny for a halfling he was quite unremarkable in appearance. A perplexed look crossed his as a metal dog and two orcs entered the inn, well at least I am not the strangest looking one here anymore, he thought to himself as he ate his food.
The evening darkens into night slowly as the Goathorne does its trade. people settle in, and Bester tries to sell the cotts in the common roll (1 penny a night)
as the last of the clouds go from pink to silver, shuffling steps come down from upstairs, and the old man appears in the doorway to the room.
Everyone make a Perception challenge roll
Kejal wished she had known the town was known for its goats before she arrived. Even with her long cloak mostly covering her body, she was anxious about the prevalence of creatures that matched her appearance. Towns like this, they were likely to mistake her for one of the goatmen. And that would be quite disastrous.
She sits in the corner of the inn, trying to stay drenched in shadow. As more people file in, she watches with trepidation, and reminds herself that she can leave the town tomorrow. Thankfully, no one pays her any mind.
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
The door would open with another newcomer walking in, a man somewhere in his mid-twenties stepping in from the chill of Autumn and into the welcoming warmth of the inn itself. Pulling back his hood, he surveyed the area for a quick moment before making his way deeper in.
"Hell, you'd think Old Man Winter's out there nipping at your balls..." Silas said to no one in particular. The sights within were strange to say, nonetheless. There was the short, diminutive man at the bar and the two massive frames of the orcs nearby. A dog made of metal strode beside them. Off in the shadows laid someone, a woman it seemed, but she was doing her best to try and obscure herself. The local scene made Silas smile as he head to the bar. "Looks like a lot of people who just want to mind their own g#+&@@n business."
The bartender seemed busy with the orcs and so he patiently waited for his moment to order a cheap beer and gruel. Money was getting tight, very tight indeed, and he'd need an oddjob to make ends meet if he wasn't going to freeze to death during the Winter. The sounds of steps coming down the stairs caught his attention though, his eyes watching the old man make his way down.
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 19
Perception: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (12) - 2 = 10
Hund casually watches the people as they come in. It's a rather quiet bunch; not the usual chatter of inns and taverns. It makes it hard for him to bask in the company while staying quiet.
But then something draws his attention. He looks up to see what it is.
Rusko surreptitiously looks about the room, noticing that there were some that would attract more attention than he. Getting a bit more comfortable, he get's the barmaids attention, and remembering her words to the real orc, "Meat and ale...please."
Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
In the back, shadow cloaking you and fastidiously avoiding eye contact, you don't notice the old man's condition for a crucial second. Maybe that's because you're close enough to the window to hear the yelling out in the distance. Gain the Surprised condition for 1 round
you turn to look, and get the willies immediately. the old man who just shambled down the stairs is limping, his knees don't bend. His eyes are hollow, and his mouth is agape. That's a zombie. Make a will challenge roll
You've seen the walking dead before. They're a fact of war, once dark mages start lurking at the edges of the devastation. The old man is deceptively well preserved, likely been dead less than a day, but he is not among the living any longer. Make a will challenge roll
Meat and ale are more interesting than the footsteps of another patron, or the slight autumn chill that runs down your spine. Surprised until the end of the round
Ananda is chatting as she goes about pouring your drink. Used to be a mercenary, my Gelda did. fierce and proud, we still got her war hammer up here she says, gesturing to a weathered hammer above the bar. you don't notice the old man, until he starts trying to bite. Surprised for 1 round
Glassy eyes, gaping jaw, grasping hands... that thing isn't an old man anymore, and it means to turn you all into snacks. Make a will challenge roll
Once all the will rolls are made, who wants to take a fast turn?
Will: 1d20 ⇒ 13
Hund laid quietly by the fire, enjoying the sounds of the crackling wood. Suddenly, he was up on all fours. A silver medallion hung from his neck and quietly clanked against his metal frame as he bolted up.
A deep growl emerged out of Hund's mechanical jaws as he spotted the walking dead. He was used to seeing these things; the aftermath of war often had wizards of the dead - what were they called? neco something - scouring the field for new recruits. Cowards who couldn't get normal thinking people to fight their wars for them.
This thing was one such thing.
Zombie, he spoke into the room.
Fast! Planning on charging if I can reach it for an attack.
Charge to knock down the zombie. One bane to challenge and attack rolls for the rest of the round due to charge.
Strength vs Agility: 1d20 - 1 - 1d6 ⇒ (15) - 1 - (5) = 9
Hund charges the zombie, intent on leaping on top of it and knocking it to the floor. He slams into the facsimile of the old man, not that Hund would have cared about the age, knocking it to the floor and growling in its face. He missed having his bladed teeth; he would have torn this thing's throat out.
The man's movements weren't right; his walk was funny and he moved with an indecisive, crooked gait. When he saw those eyes though, he recognized the eyes of a dead man and he felt his chest tighten immediately. The clockwork's alarm that the man was dead was accompanied by the sound of a dagger being drawn from a sheath.
Will: 1d20 ⇒ 16
Rising from his seat, he followed the mechanical hound to the walking dead where it was knocked down to the ground. Switching the grip on his blade, a savage look came to his face.
"I wasn't expecting this kind of trouble. Silas growled, striking at the undead on the ground.
I am going to take a slow turn; move and then attack with my dagger.
Attack: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 2
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Will: 1d20 ⇒ 9
"Did the dog just talk?" Baros gasps with befuddlement as he retrieves his sling and launches a stone at the shambling corpse.
Sling: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 3
Silas forgot a Boon, and it's kinda important: 1d6 + 17 ⇒ (2) + 17 = 19
The aware members of the inn dogpile the zombie, HUIVD pinning him as Baros' stone finds his head, bone cracks and an eye falls loose as it goes down. Silas follows up, raking a knife over the old man's torso, loosing oozing dark red blood.
Baros you struggle to get the visceral image of the old man's teeth tearing into your felsh out of your head, especially as Mok takes a large bite from the goat shank Ananda has just handed him. You are frightened for 1d3+insanity(0): 1d3 ⇒ 1 rounds
The old man, bleeding and one eyed, grabs for Silas as he leans over to carve him up. weathered hands dart toward the man's throat
Grasping Hands: Str against Agl with 1 boon and 1 bane: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
and Silas ducks back just in time.
Having knocked the zombie down, Hund goes in for the kill, wrapping the zombie's throat with his jaws. Standard practice for most enemies back during the insurrection.
Unfortunately, Hund forgot for a moment that his blade-like teeth were gone. As a result, all he managed to do was grab the zombie.
Zombie Prone: 1 Boon.
Grab, Agility vs Agility: 1d20 + 0 + 1d6 ⇒ (10) + 0 + (3) = 13
Silas weaves just out of the way of the grasping hand, his eyes taking in the sight of the one-eyed, hungry undead. He still seemed to be moving undeterred, even with the clockwork biting and pinning it down onto the ground.
"Well, ain't you tough. Going to take care of you right now." Silas growls, taking his dagger and striking back down at the zombie once more.
Attack: 1d20 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (4) + 1 + (2) = 7
Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 1
Rusko bit into the Meat the barmaid had brought, savoring the taste and texture; eating never got old to him.
He looked up at the commotion around the old man, thinking Hmm, he must be popular.... Then it occurred to him that the crowd was actively trying to kill the old man, and the old man was trying to bite his admirers!
Will: 1d20 ⇒ 4 Frightened ! 1 Bane!
As the realization of what was coming down the stairs hit him, Rusko stood up , knocking back his chair and backed up a few paces, not sure what to do.
Will: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (15) - 1 = 14
Looking over at the group dog-piling the old man, Mok thinks this is just regular human behaviour...until he sees the creature's features and realizes that there is something wrong with the old man.
Move and attack with club.
Atack: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Shaking off the fear that gripped him momentarily Baros draws his dagger and sets to stabbing at the monster frantically now that the metal hound had pulled it to the ground.
Slow turn: Move and attack
Attack Dagger: 1d20 + 2 + 1d6 ⇒ (14) + 2 + (2) = 18
Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 3
With new found boldness Baros drives his dagger into the zombie.
Silvas' Dagger digs into the wood floor, missing the zombie by inches, but HUIVD holds it fast as Baros carves some of its torso open, unleashing the stinking blood and pus within. but it is Grommok who finishes the creature, bringing his club down on its skull, cracking it like a hot pie. the Zombie stops flailing as it's brains spill onto the floor.
You all have a moment to catch your breath, what do you do?
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Baros’s dagger clangs as it hits the floor his hands trembling as adrenaline pumped throughout his body. After shaking out his hands and arms Baros retrieves his dagger placing it back in its sheath. He pulls himself up so he could see over the bar, "umm... ma'am, do you happen to have anything stronger than ale...?"
Hund looks around. Something isn't right. How did such a thing get in the inn from the upstairs? Mok, Hund ejects from his voice modulator, Come. Search.
Hund waits for Mok to join him and then moves up the stairs to see how the thing got in.
Ananda's hands are shaking as she pulls down a bottle. Dwarf Rotgut, and pours a sizable portion into two cups. as she pours, you begin to see some of the chaos outside, as figures shamble out from the woods, 200 meters from the tavern. How did he... he was alive when he went up... She mutters as she downs it like it was water.
What do you do?
HUIVD (and anyone who follows)
Going upstairs, one of the the doors is broken open from the inside. what do you do?
"I come Hund. You lead."
The young orc cleans his club of the gore clinging to it on the dead man's clothes before following the mechanical dog up the stairs.
Seeing the broken door, Mok moves forward, with his club at the ready and looks inside the room.
"Oh, it does talk, and why is no one else surprised by that?" Baros says turning towards Hund and the three big folk. He reaches for the cup but pulls up short when he see the shambling figures emerge from the woods. "Uh is this flammable and if so do you have more, like a lot more? Also we need to lock and barricade the doors," fear had given way to pure survival at this point as starts pushing a table towards the door.
Silas takes a few moments to breathe after the undead was taken down, wiping the blood off on the old man's shirt before sheathing it back upon his hip. The orc and the clockwork began to head upstairs, following where the dead man had come from.
"Seen stranger things..." Silas murmurs to Baros, turning around to see the woman pouring out drinks with a shaky hand. He was about to yell at her when he saw the same fear in the halfling's eyes, his own picking out the figures that were now walking out of the woods.
"Oh hell..." He growled, grabbing the table that Baros was moving and beginning to move it to the door. As he was, he would point at the others down at the bottom floor with them. "Get off your ass and start helping barricade the doors and windows! Get the key off of her too, we need to lock this place down!" Silas was already regretting his decision to come and hide at the end of the world. Other horrors seemed to be waiting there for him.
The fear of the creature not subsiding until after it has been put down, Kejal is slow to get up from her seat. When she does, she follows Silas's eyes to the treeline. Without saying anything, she simply nods, leaping into action to help - though doing her best to keep away from the man's corpse on the floor.
The mechanical dog steps upstairs, gears moving legs behind and old rusted frame. The key, positioned inside its chest, can be seen turning for those who look. If one knew anything about Clockworks, they'd know the that the turning key is what makes them go.
Hund moves towards the broken door to peer inside. He was worried about the implications of the door being broken from the inside. Something either has access to the upper story. Or something happened to one of the guests.
Mok and HUIVD
Inside the room, you find bedding ruffled and tossed on the floor. the window is closed, and no one is in here, but there are a set of priestly vestments, and the sickle of a devotee of the Old Faith. there is also a pack in here. the windows are closed.
Kejal, Baros, and Silas
One of the tables takes two people to move against the door, and Gelda shouts Get the hammers from the cabinet. we got nails somewhere She shouts.
Who's holding the door? make a Str Challenge roll with 1 boon/helper
Who is getting the hammer and nails? make an Agl Challenge roll, with 1 boon if someone looks for the nails while you get the hammers.
Who has other plans? what are they?
With the table moved Baros heads for the cabinet to retrieve the hammers, "You two hold the door, I'll get the hammers," he say quietly but firmly to Kejal and Silas while gesturing to Gelda to keep the noise down trying to prevent additional attention being drawn to the inn.
Agility: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
His momentary paralysis was dispelled by the felling of the zombie old man. The hurried attempts to secure the door spur Rusko into action.
"I'll get the nails..." he hisses at Baros, trying to keep his voice down. He goes behind the bar, upending everything in his search...
Agility, 1 boon, 1 bane: 1d20 ⇒ 1 LOL...
Solar gives a nod to the halfling before looking at the fan nearby. "Help me keep the doors closed. We can't let them get in." Once the shambles drew close, he would put his back into it to try and keep them from getting in.
Strength: 1d20 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (9) + 1 + (2) = 12
The boon is assuming Kejal helps. Otherwise, remove it from the roll.
You find the nails alright., in the corner of the closet, there they are, but one finds its way into your shoe. You are impaired. trying to get the nail out before you're discovered is going to be a challenge roll. sell me on what in the discord
Baros and Silas
Baros gets back just as the horde starts battering the doors in earnest. you hear the windows getting pounded on as well... this is going to be a long night.
Unable to read, the young orc stuffs everything back into the pack and takes it with him. He starts examining the other rooms on this level before going back downstairs to help against the zombie invasion.