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You have come together from various corners of the known world for a variety of reasons. You have decided to explore the long abandoned Grimmbold Manor in search of wealth. Grimmbold Manor is in an out of the way part of the world called Sachura that has remained relativley untouched by the great wars that have torn the rest of the world to pieces. You now stand at the crossroads that will take you into the Sachura region. You must choose either to go left to the small town of Greenhollow to gather supplies and perhaps information on Grimmbold Manor or to go right which will take you directly to Grimmbold Manor.
Good luck, Arctaris
If anyone wnats to live to see the light of day again, I would suggest stocking up on supplies in town. But that's just my opinion. I just don't feel like dying right now.
"Well I will defer to your greater experience in this issue, of course." the young whisp of a man says with a conciliatory turn of his hand "I have already taken some time and asked around for information--as well as walking the perimeter...as near as the guides have been willing. Apparently the place has a pall of dark rumors surrounding it." Greis looked around as if appraising the other adventurers, gauging the degree of actual danger they believed the site possessed.
"So we go for supplies...what would you suggest? Gold is at a premium--at least for the moment."
"I carry my personal supplies with me. But it would be unwise to approach the manor unprepared. Perhaps they have information in the town which will aid us."
"I won't be needing much, but there might be others who are less ...prepared for what we may face."
Corvin looks around inquisitively at the other adventurers, as if to say 'why are we just standing here?' but says no more.
"Before we go rushing off into the mansion what do you guys thing of checking out the outside first. See if there is any other buildings on the grounds. Up close and personal since we will have safety in numbers and with Kord."
Turns and begins the trek towards the town, already familiar with the path, having walked it both ways a few times in the last several days. Along the way he tells the others what he has learned about the manor from rumors and from having scouted it out with guides (the details of which the DM will have to provide).
The greasy-looking fighter follows the young noble. He appears to be preoccupied with something important, but he's merely thinking about how much he's going to be paid after the adventure is over.
Silent until now, the strange looking elf mutters something to the large raven sitting atop his shoulder.
After a moment, he shrugs, glances askew at those adventurers still left standing in the clearing. "Knowledge is power after all," he states, and begins to head along the trail towards the village, after the two humans.
"It seems we have new travelling companions Midnight."
The raven squawks.
Anarath hurries away from the two dwarves, nods quickly, nervously as he passes the armor-clad human, and draws level with Greis.
“Greis … isn’t it? It seems you know more than some of us about yonder manor house. What can you tell us? Is it something specific you seek there?”
He brushes the hair from his eyes and glances at Greis.
Grimmbold Manor info: Grimmbold Manor was built about 150 years ago by the wealthy Grimmbold family. They had decided that they wanted to get away from the large empires because of the increasing instabilities and social unrest. They decided on the Greenhollow area because it had been all but forgotten by the large empires in their squabbles over territory and resources. They built a large manor and provided protction to the people of the surrounding area from the goblin raids that troubled the area. Up until then the Ilvessan Imperial Guard had protected the area but with war looming increasingly on thew horizon such matters as the protection of a small, unimportant village were forgotten. So the Grimmbold family hired guards and protected the town of Greenhollow and the surrounding farms. Then the goblin raids abruptley stopped, the tribes apparently massacred by some rival. At first the people of Greenhollow were overjoyed, no longer would they have to fear goblin raids on their farms. Then their unknown foes killed all who lived in Grimmbold Manor at night and since then it has remained abandoned. Several attempts to reclaim the Manor have been made but all have failed bloodily.
After several hours of walking through a pleasant wood you arrive in the farmland that can be found near Greenhollow. You get many curious stares from the farmers working in their fields but no one asks you any questions. Apparently visitors are rare but the locals don't question their presence. Soon you arrive at the gates of a small village. A suspicious sentry says "Halt! What is your buisness in this area? Why should I let you into the town of Greenhollow?" in a booming voice.
As the small band of travellers draw nearer to the town walls, Anarath takes leave of his halting conversation with Greis, and slows his pace so that he falls towards the back of the group. He knows that diplomacy is not his strong point, and knows that there are others in the group who will probably negotiate better with the guards than he - perhaps Greis, who seems personable and has after all been here before.
Anarath will give his name and business if asked directly, but would prefer to leave the talking to others.
He does peer carefully at the town's defences from under his fringe, noting the number and armourment of the guards, and the sturdiness (or otherwise) of the walls.
(Spot check roll 18 including modifiers. Knowledge, Architecture and Engineering roll 15 for review of walls, gate and physical defences)
"Halt! What is your buisness in this area? Why should I let you into the town of Greenhollow?" in a booming voice.
"Greetings!" Greis calls out to the sentry, holding his arms wide to show that he's unarmed, then waving his hand wide to introduce his companions "Forgive our rude appearance. We have travelled some way. We have come on a commision. Our patron has an interest in the local legends surrounding an abandoned manor nearby. We have a few nights to spend in your town and by the grace of our patron a bit of coin to spend as well. We'd like to spend it here with your leave." (15-Bluff, untrained)
He preferred to have the sentry believe they were both well funded and disinterested in disturbing the site--as that might bar them entry. He figured some simple harmless subterfuge might ease their passage.
Anarath glances quickly at Greis … interesting … before internally shrugging. The boy had been around, presumably he knew what he was doing.
Anarath leaves his hands in plain view, leaning slightly on his staff, but otherwise unarmed.
The guard looks into all of your eyes in turn, hesitating when he reaches Anarath, clearly unerved by your odd appearance, but then he drops his agressive demeanor and smiles broadly as he opens the gates. "You all look like likeable enough fellows. If yer going to th' Manor then best o luck to ye. They say its cursed like. Ye know what I'm sayin? Like som evil wizard would do. We have a mighty fine tavern down on th' main street and ye can probly get whatever supplies ye need at the smith's place. We don't get many visitors around these parts, if ye know what I mean. Well, enjoy yer stay here." and then he goes back to whatever official buisness he was doing before you arrived. Before you lies a street with a few small shops, a temple to Pelor and farmers selling their crops from carts. Contented looking people sit outside the tavern, smoking pipes and the whole town has an air of peace to it. You get many curious stares from the peasants who are too polite to ask any questions. A bold young child perhaps nine years old runs up to you and stares openly at your strange clothing, weapons and armor. Then he sees Anarath and runs up to you and says exitedly "You look weird. What happened to you. Are you a wizard or something? Can you do magic? Why do you have that big bird? Are you an Elf? I've never seen an elf before!" the tide of questions would probably continue but his mother comes over and starts to pull him away, saying "Leave the visitors alone. If he really is a wizard than you should be careful lest he turn you into something nasty and slimy! They can do that you know! So be careful! Really, you'd think I haven't taught you any manners at all!" then she turns to you and says "I'm terribly sorry about him sir. He's just curious and doesn't know when to mind his manners."
Technical: Guard rolls an 8 on Sense Motive (untrained).
Anarath stares at the child, clearly somewhat unnerved by this bold young human. He glances sideways to his companions, but sees no immediate help forthcoming from those quarters.
“It is alright” he half mumbles to the mother, “he is very young.”
He then crouches down to eye level with the child. “Yes, I am a wizard and I am an elf. I shall not tell you what happened to me, it would be better if the years of innocent youth continued in you. The bird is Midnight – be careful, she bites.”
He then stands and faces the mother again, not quite looking her in the eye. “Mother of the bold child, can you tell us where we may find a shop that sells supplies for travellers? Travel rations, rope, lanterns, things of that nature?”
(diplomacy roll 3 if such a roll is required!)
Once we’re in town, Anarath’s primary concern is finding information about the Manor – and in particular if anyone has any ideas on what killed the previous explorers, or what creatures (if any) have been seen in the area. However, as he is not the most personable fellow he is happy for others to take the lead in regards to information gathering.
He may also stock up on supplies – another pint of lamp oil and another two days rations perhaps.
As soon as the interlude between Anarath and the young family is over he waits, stonefaced for a moment before breaking into a broad smile. "You're not used to children, I take it?" He raises a hand quickly in polite deference before the Necromancer can respond. "No, it's quite alright. I'm not either."
He tells the necromancer, and anyone else listening, more or less what he's learned about the site in the past few days spent milling around asking questions. He's careful to pick the details carefully, not wanting to seem a bore so early after meeting everyone--and certainly not wanting to exhaust his store of interesting lore so quickly on meeting these new people. (again the DM will have to provide this info...I'm not sure what I've learned.)
"As for my reasons for wanting to go? Money, magical lore, potential political dividends, it's hard to say until we get in there. One thing is certain, if we get out we'll be the only ones who have done so. We'd best know what we're getting into, go carefully, and be extremely cautious. It will be nice having another practicioner of the arts along with us. It will increase our chances greatly." he says giving a respectful nod that's almost a slight bow.
His first stop is the smithy. That's where the man at the gate said travel provisions could be had, and the current thinking was that this was the priority. He'd already spent days questioning whoever would talk. Now he was anxious to get what he needed and see for himself what the old manor contained. Besides he was starting to get fond of this town, and if this place was the danger the rumors suggested, he would be relieved if they could end any immediate danger to such amiable and hardworking people.
Anarath does not answer Greis, but returns his slight bow. He really had been more flustered by that human child than he cared to let on – even to the point where he’d forgotten what the guard had said not a moment before.
Well, to the smithy then, to buy supplies and to ask what is known of the Manor – then perhaps to the tavern afterwards, to ask of any recent groups who attempted to brave the Manor’s dangers.
“We’ll be the only ones to have done so….” He whispers to himself as he walks. Death holds little fear for him, but it would be foolish indeed to throw one’s life away needlessly. Best be prepared as possible. Besides, there are things worse than death.
If and when the time comes to ask questions of previous adventurers to the Manor, Anarath will want to know what, if anything was ever found of them. Did they disappear without a trace? Were bodies discovered in the Manor environs? Has anyone ever made it back to town only to die in a later foray, or from some delayed effect?
No bodies were ever found, in fact, no trace of the adventurers was ever found after they dissapeared into Grimmbold Manor. No one survived the viscious night raids and there is only one man alive who has ever seen the manor. He is the original architect, a half-elf named Segwin who became quite attached to the Grimmbold family, eventually marrying into it. He was overseeing the construction of a new temple for Greenhollow when the attack happened so was not killed. The loss of his family drove him insane and it is said that he now haunts the woods near Grimmbold Manor, always looking for a chance to get revenge upon the creatures that slayed those he loved. He is also said to possess the original blueprints to Grimmbold Manor and would probably give them to any adventurers going to Grimmbold Manor who promised to eradicate whatever lives in the manor.
Inside the smithy you find a big, beefy, amiable fellow polishing an axe. When he sees you he puts the axe down and smiles, happy to see new customers. He says "Welcome to Greenhollow! Its nice to see new faces. Wherabouts do you come from? What brings you to our fine village? Can I get you anything? Supplies? Weapons? If you're going to explore the forest and such I have just the right things for you. Rope, oil, lanterns. If you need it I got it!" in a booming voice.
His shop is well organized, with axes, a few shields and simple weapons hanging from the walls. On the shelves that line the left side of the shop there is a wide variety of equipment available.
Technical, Items Available: 150 ft hemp rope, 10 pts oil, 3 lanterns, 5 days trail rations, 10 pitons, three sacks, two crowbars, 10 ft chain, six waterskins, 1 backpack, a fishing net, a grappling hook and seven hammers.
Before you lies a street with a few small shops, a temple to Pelor and farmers selling their crops from carts. Contented looking people sit outside the tavern, smoking pipes and the whole town has an air of peace to it. You get many curious stares from the peasants who are too polite to ask any questions.
While Greis, Amaranth, and the others pay a visit to the smithy, Corvin decides to stay behind at the tavern, for the only provisions he is in need of are foodstuffs.
It is only after arriving at the smithy, his mind absorbed by other things, that he notices that his paid cohort has slipped away unseen. He glances around, his eyes suddenly sharp and angry. Small items and gouts of dust rumbling around him as if caught in a slight earthquake.
He glances around at his compatriots, his expression a mix of imperious and bratty. He nearly forgets that the smith is there at all. "Corvin, where is he!" he spins, his travelling cloak drifting and billowing in the air as though underwater. "Curse him if we find him swilling beer at some tavern!" He stamps a foot and grunts. "Any who wish to see the light of day! Hah! Some importance getting supplies was! Come on, let's look for him. Creton! Scabbrous imposing creton!"
He turns and storms out, a sour look on his face...a scowl mixed of equal parts hate and tantrum.
The smith stands there puzzeled for a moment and then says "Tempermental fellow isn't he? Doesn't seem too stable, you know, up here" and taps his temple with a finger. Then he addresses the rest of you and asks what you would like to buy.
Anarath stares after Greis in puzzlement, a delicate eyebrow raised. Curious. What did the boy expect of a man such as Corvin? From Anarath’s (admittedly limited) experience with these rough warrior types they were usually well enough prepared, and typically looking for something warming to drink. The lad was obviously used to having things his own way.
“Well, I suppose I shall stay for the importance of gathering supplies – my own at any rate,” he stated, perhaps to the bemused smithy, perhaps to himself.
“Good fellow, I shall have a pint of oil and …. Two days worth of trail rations if I may.” He turns to see if his remaining companions still remain. “And you two dwarves?”
Anarath was fast coming to the realisation that this seemed to be a rather … individualistic group.
Anarath has 20gp to spend (but is wise enough not to advertise the fact). He will not haggle if the prices seem within the realm of reasonable.
Once he's finished his purchases he heads to the tavern.
He had decided, against his better judgement, to buy enough rations for five instead of one. Corvin knew he had made a greivous (in his opinion) error when he looked up to see Amaranth skulk through the tavern door.
"I see you, at least, have already bought rations. Damn. I already bought enough for all of us. Now I'm broke."
Anarath blinks in surprise. "Yes," he states. "I hadn't realised we were sharing. But at least this way we shall be doubly prepared ... for sudden famines, which I imagine will be the least of our worries. As for the matter of money," he smiles sardonically, "there's supposed to be plenty of THAT at the manor."
The raven, Midnight, lets out a squawk which sounds suspiciously like an incredulous laugh.
"Now Corvin, did Greis come in here? He was looking for you. He sounded ... frustrated?"
"I already have supplies sufficient for my purpose. I will retire to the temple of Pelor to meditate. Please let me know when you are ready to depart for the manor"
"Wait - Dohrlok... before you go. There is something I think we should discuss before we leave, if we are all here now... None of the others who explored the Manor have returned,” states Anarath. “What do we have that they didn’t? What’s our edge?
I’m smart – but not that smart – and I know some Art. Dohrlok, you seem disciplined and tough. Greis is confident and knows some Art too. Corvin looks like he’d be deadly capable in a fight. Gawlak has the gods (or at least one of them) on his side.
So we’re the typical band of novice adventurers. I ask again, what’s our edge? Why will we survive where others … haven’t.
"A suggestion if I may. Greis has told us of Segwin, the mad architect. I suggest we seek him out, try to get these blueprints, find out what he knows of the place. Some of you are good at talking, good with people. I’m not – exactly – but I know a thing or two about architecture. I studied it before …” he trails off and stares into space for a moment, “a long time ago. Maybe I can help get him talking. That can be our edge. Now, how do we find him?”
As for the matter of money," he smiles sardonically, "there's supposed to be plenty of THAT at the manor."
"Damn straight..."
Corvin is cut off by the raven's raucous squawking.
"Now Corvin, did Greis come in here? He was looking for you. He sounded ... frustrated?"
No, not that I know of. I hope not.
Greis storms his way across town, the supernatural eddy passing in his wake, torches going out, ceramic pots cracking, pipeweed flaring into open flame as he strides his way toward the one tavern in town. He opens the door, jaw set...and sees Anarath there already. He lurches backward and almost falls over, losing all the emotional momentum he'd been buiding up. Straightening himself and smoothing out his clothes he tries to get himself reorganized.
"Corvin, correct? Yes, I do believe I contracted your service did I not? If I was mistaken and you were merely tagging along with me for some other purpose, then I must sincerely appologize. I had thought you were going to travel with the rest of us--to get those items? The ones we needed if we were to ever see the light of day again?"
He pulls on his shirtsleeves and rolls his head to one side like a brawler getting ready for a fight, before he levels a cutting look at the fighter...
"It was equipment we were to owe our lives to--wasn't it? Or have you procured some magic ale for us, or perhaps an enchanted tavern girl to keep us alive? If you wish to continue in my employ you will come with me now, do you understand? That or see if there's someone here in town that considers you worth actual coin..."
His tirade administered, he lets his eyes fall briefly on the necromancer, full of a brief kind of wonder that said simultaneously: where did YOU come from, and don't DO that to me.
Heh...enchanted tavern girl... I mean, nossir, I've been procuring rations for the ummm, adventuring party. Sorry, boss...
Looks down, unimpressed at the rations.
"This! -This- is what we're to have lest we not see the light of another day? What is this? Bread?" he sneers then laughs a frustrated laugh.
"Look. Come, you mentioned we would need to come and equip ourselves for the journey. I assumed you meant actual equipment and went to the smithy--you know the smithy? Where they sell equipment? I turned and found to my shock that you had split off without a word. You -do- understand this reflects poorly on you does it not? Good. Then shall we equip ourselves and be off while we still have some light..."
He turns, and then back again, as if remembering something "You're not drunken are you? No, you couldn't be. No time." Then gives one last perplexed look at the elf, shakes his head and makes his way back to the smith's shop.
Was there something strange going on here, or had Greis just been delayed on his way to the tavern?
Ripples in the space-time ... no. Obviously Greis was simply delayed.
Anarath looks away for a moment. "Well, enchanted tavern girls aside ... you missed my speech Greis. I think we ought to seek out the mad architect you told us about earlier. He may be the key. Any idea where we could find him? Do you think its worth enquiring ... here? Or perhaps elsewhere in town."
"Greis! Before you leave again..."
"... perhaps it would make sense to review what equipment we have - and what we need. Corvin, as the expert in adventuring," he nods briefly in the warrior's direction, " can advise on what we lack.
I, for starters, have food for several days, a full waterskin, a lantern with oil for a day or so ... and a few other trinkets. I do not have any rope, mirrors, outrageously long poles or such."
Anarath looks away for a moment. "Well, enchanted tavern girls aside ... you missed my speech Greis. I think we ought to seek out the mad architect you told us about earlier. He may be the key. Any idea where we could find him? Do you think its worth enquiring ... here? Or perhaps elsewhere in town."
He turns, running his tongue across his teeth, and faces Anarath.
"Yes...indeed. Rumors place him in the forests near the manor. Word is he has gone quite insane, but is still alive. That being the case he either has some means of providing for himself, or else relies on the charity of the townfolk. Personally I would imagine it's the latter. This being the case, its likely the clerics will be the ones to talk to. Of course one must imagine if he had written plans for the construction of the ruined house that he would have given them to one of the earlier groups. I can't imagine we're the first to seek him out. Still his aid would be invaluable."
I, for starters, have food for several days, a full waterskin, a lantern with oil for a day or so ... and a few other trinkets. I do not have any rope, mirrors, outrageously long poles or such."
"Well I believe, if nothing else, we will not want for food. Other than that, yes make arrangements with Corvin. He should know what we lack...well at least in theory. We should get back to the others, finish with that, and then see what the clerics have to say about the architect."
Anarath nods curtly. "Agreed. Dorhlok has indicated he needs no more equipment, Corvin seems content with what he's got and I've told you what I have." He turns to the wiry fighter. "Anything else we need Corvin? We can discuss it on the way out." He glances slyly at Greis. "I think our friend is eager to get going..."
Anarath turns and heads to join Greis at the doorway, mentally filing away the fact that Greis has personally employed the warrior. "We may need to cosy up to one of the dwarves for personal protection Midnight," he mutters in Draconic to the bird, before glancing at Greis again.
"Indeed..." Greis says with a mock sigh, also speaking in Draconic, "If our luck keeps going this way Alabaster and I may have to join you in your entreaty..."
Greis heads back from the tavern to the smithy, still checking periodically to make sure everyone was with him. As he passes under the doorway back into the blacksmith's shop he tips his head in a small bow to the proprietor. "Appologies to have left so suddenly. Now then, if I may see what you have to offer..."
Greis feels fairly helpless in terms of trying to decide what to take with him, and so listens attentively, but aside from carefully turning a crowbar over in his hands and hefting the pile of rope to see how heavy it might be seems to be waiting patiently for Corvis to suggest what else they might need. Failing that he merely continues to fidgit and pick at the items self-consciously.
As Anarath had suspected, Greis does speak Draconic. That could come in handy.
Back at the smithy, Anarath fidgets uncomfortably, waiting for Corvin to scour the shelves and tell them what is needed. He's got what he needed, and does not wish to weigh himself down with more gear - but if there is something that Corvin believes the party absolutely needs he will contribute funds if required.
He glances out the doorway, trying to catch a glimpse of the small temple to Pelor.
The temple to Pelor is across the street from the smithy's. It is a large, impressive building for a community of this size. It is constructed of reddish brown stone and is two stories tall. It has a welocoming, peaceful aspect to it.
To continue on your quest you have to pick up Dohlrok and then proceed to the city gates where you can proceed on the road through the forest t Grimmbold Manor. The clerics have no idea where to find Segwin and neither does anyone else in the community although it is said that he prowls the road that leads to Grimmbold Manor in search of allies.
Once their transactions there are complete, the group at the smithy makes their way across the road to the temple, where they join the two dwarves and discover that the clerics there know little of Segwin.
“Well,” says Anarath, shading his eyes and gazing up at the sky. “Did anyone else have any business to attend to in this village? If not, perhaps we should set out towards the manor, before the hour grows too late.”
"Quite. I've a desire to get out beyond this town and see things strange and unusual--it seems we've had quite enough of the opposite already. If we want to find Segwin, we'd best make haste too. I doubt he wanders the roads night and day. He has to sleep sometime. Besides, I don't relish the thought of travelling in the deep forest once it gets too dark to see anything."
He shoulders his sack of supplies and follows the others down the long road back out of town, toward the forests where the mad architect Segwin is reported to dwell.
Shakes the cobwebs from his mind and joins up with the group. "I am all for heading out for the manor. If this guy we are looking for hangs around the road maybe we should have ourselves a nice little picnic and see if we can lure him into our grasp. I mean figuretive......unless he doesn't talk." Glances around at everyone. "Right?"
Indeed - I am eager to continue my journey. I also agree we should find this architect. I am ready.
For those interested, I carry rations for a few days, a waterskin, bedroll, backpack and two daggers.
"Most of us have enoufgh. I myself carry a backpack, bedroll, waterskin, thirty feet of rope, and enough gorramn rations to feed five of us for three days."
Corvin then mutters under his breath,
"Damn rations. I go out of my way to help someone else ONCE in my life, and I get chewed ot for it. Typical."
Despite his backpack of new supplies, Greis felt and looked spritely and careless, making his way down the farm roads with a gallant stride that challenged others to keep up with him. Even Corvin's comments rolled off of him.
"Do not let it worry you. Your advice was good. We did need supplies, and it did give us an opportunity to work over our plans. With luck we should find the architect, just in there..."
He gestures off toward the pleasant wood they had travelled through on their way to Greenhollow, presumably the wood wherein they would find the mad half-elf.
"I thoroughly agree with our dwarven friend. We should travel into the woods a ways and set up a camp. A nice visible camp. Then perhaps Corvin and Dohrlok might survey a bit, cast the net a bit wider to see if they can draw the wandering half-elf's eye and peak his curiousity?"
"I'm fine with the surveying and all, it's just the whole 'nice and visible' thing I'm hangin' up on. We might attract 'unwanted attention," replies Corvin to the young noble as he trudges along near the rear of the group.
"There're all sorts about, and many I wouldn't want to meet alone in the woods at night, if you catch what I'm sayin'."
"There're all sorts about, and many I wouldn't want to meet alone in the woods at night, if you catch what I'm sayin'."
He smiles broadly. "Then stay in hearing range of the camp. If you run into anything untoward, just call out and we'll lend assistance. One of the reasons I suggested the most military of us reconotier, so we can respond appropriately to any...unforseen complications."
Okay, after several hours you find a relativley good camping site just off the main path. Darkness is falling and the sounds of night fill the air. Would you like to set up camp or continue moving forward?