It is a dark, foggy night. Nighthawks and whipporwills, both common birds in this area, sing their eerie songs. On a lonely bridge in Ravendrawk, over the river Driin, you all stand. A ways away, the Actar, that intimidating set of tall, dark towers stands, in its pentacle shape, terrifyes the young ones looking out their bedroom windows. Bats fly over the Driin, carrying in their beaks small misquitos and minnoes. Stray cats caterwhall forlornly, their meloncholy sillowettes showing against the moon. drunken men stagger out of the taverns, heavily bruised after a barfight. Ferocious homeless dogs howl at the moon, which will be full in a few night's time.
This cold night in winter, the puddles on the road have completely frozen, though the Driin has not frozen in years. This winter, you all know, stands little to no chance of succeeding in that mission. A light snow falls, making a soft sheet of white over the city.
Lately, you all know, Ravendrawk has not been doing financially well in its main business, the selling of linen. This was a disapointment, for many of you came here in the hopes of making your fortune. The streets have been covered with muck when they once might have been clean. Rats, not people, now rule the city. Even as you all think this, you see rats scurrying around the bridge, to the safety of one of the many rotten hollows now in the bridge. the bridge creaks, for it has not been tended in a while, and it must go through a great struggle to remain standing. It has lasted this long, however and will likely continue to last. You hope. A lone cricket chirps, and all sigh gratefully, for the dreadful silence was enough to drive the faint of heart mad. You hear the clock chime midnight--a powerful omen of a death to come.
Elrosse looks around at the other then hearing a bell ring, he turns around for he had been wondering around having no clue where to go in the city, untill he wondered toward the bridge. He looks at the others then at the bridge, " Why does that bell ring? Is there something under attack?" Listen Spot
Xaephon not having enough money to afford lodgings at the inn he had chosen has been force out into the streets and it has taken him much longer then he had excepted to find a place to spend the night.
Walking eyes skyward to make sure the only thing fluttering in the weak light are bats he is taken be complete surprise are the hollow clap of the bell tolls shattering the silence like a pane of glass. A nervous shiver runs through his spine.
"Midnight, the witching hour". The realization is like being hit by a cold bucket of water.
Quickening his pace, and suddenly needing company of someone, any one he rushes as quickly as he can with out appearing to be running towards a group of people who have come together at the blank of a bridge.
Listen 1d20+8-> [4,8] = (12), Spot 1d20+6-> [19,6] = (25).
Shym often wanders the streets late at night hoping to practice his enchantments on those who are not likely to complain.
On this particular night, Shym finds himself near the Actar towers and wonders about them.
At the sound of midnight, Shym rouses from his pondering and hears footsteps hurrying from the menacing Actar.
For all once they make their spot and listen checks
And with that he takes of over the bridge towards the tower. Occasionally casting a glance back to see if you will follow.
For all once they make their spot and listen checks ** spoiler omitted **
You all look at the silly man, obviously believing that he can do something from the distance away from the towers. You know you all can do nothing but watch the terrible deed unfold. The man who pursues, and, with one mighty thrust, pushes its victim down into the Driin nearby. As the fellow falls, he somehow notices you, and utters a word, so quiet that none of you can believe that you hear it, essentially a whisper, a whisper that, you feel, will change all of your lives. A nonsense word, you think, a word that cannot mean anything, but it is the fellow's last word, and one that means, thus, everything.
"Lopinsand."Splash!
Shym looks to the elf and the human standing nearby (). Shym, looks like an adventurer wannabe, with his new clothes and weapons worn awkwardly. He stands there in utter disbelief with his hands gripping a facny cain tightly.
Knowledge (local) DC 15:
Knowledge (geography) DC 15:
"Lopinsand... I remember my grandfather told me about that place..." he looks at the man with the cain, "Yes, you are right it is a desert toward the north,but i remember hearing it was populated with scorpians." Elerosse looks at the other, "I am terriably sorry, i forgot to introduce myself, i am Elerosse Coamenel.
Xaephon eyes never leave the top of the Actar. As if unwilling to accept what just happened.
Xaephon is very rustic looking and out of place in the city. While clad and armour and sporting a multitude of weapons he looks uncomfortable. As if this wasn’t the calling of this choice. But something has forced him to don this mantle.
1d20+6 [17,6] = (23) knowledge local
The figure slips away, seeing that there are witnesses to his crime.
Hera spots the gathered group, and hurrys over. She was exploring the city when she heard footsteps, although the lack of people and quiet unsettles her. "What is the matter? Who is running?"
Hera is wearing simple clothes, and carrys her weapons with great ease, as if she has been wearing them for a long time.
"What is the matter? Who is running?"
"Did you hear the thaumaturgical telling 'Lopinsand'?" Shym answers absentmindedly before noticing the ranger. He nervously adjusts his dagger, copying her obviously more comfortable style.
"I am Shym," he says to the group with a slight hesitency. "It appears that foul play has rendered true the midnight chime's calling. I am uneasy with the import of the desert being the last word a man may choose. ...and menacing Actar further bodes ill."
Snapping out of this trace Xaephon seems to notice every one once more. “ I am Xaephon a stranger here, is this normal in the city?”
Xaephon peers down into the dark water.
Is there any chance of him recovering the body? He could use his long spear to help direct in within reach.
Anyways, the bridge is pretty high up*, and the Driin has a strong current.
*
Shym averts his eys back to the Actar...
The tall, intimidating circle towers surrounds who-knows-what. You still find it amazing that on those dark, pointy towers, two folk could have balanced well enough to run on them. But then again, when you think back on it, you saw the two men running on the slippery stairs leading up, rather than the towers themselves. How they got up there so quickly without being noticed is another matter, for the stairs have crumbled away at the bottom.
Elerosse looks at the Actar, "Lopinsand,"he says to himself then turning to the others, "Is it a clue or is it just a trap?"
“I doubt they he would of spent this dying breath on something to laid astray a few strangers.” Xaephon offers meekly.
Xaephon seems to be waiting for some one to take initiative. The death and the steely gaze the pursuer of the deceased directed towards him has sombre him.
"Aye, but was his dying desire for us to seek out his doom in the desert or to avoid the arid land? What of his attacker? Should he be pursed or left be? I'm afraid I have been left with more questions than answers."
Hera looks around uneasily, nervous to have witnessed a murder. "I am Hera Ingowil" she says to the gathered group. She scans the surrounding streets, looking for other suspicious looking people.
Elerosse looks around at everyone, "We should head into the Actar and find the murderer, punish the person who did this!" Elerosse starts walking towards the Actar, then turns around. "Are you all coming or not?"
I am right behind you. Hopefully the decay of the structure has delayed the being we saw escape.
Shym cuts a glance back to Hera, puts on his bravest face, and says "Onward, gentlemen and let us right this wrong!"
Elerosse watches the murderers actions, "well, the murderer is getting away,fool... and it looks like we can't get in the Actar." Elerosse looks at everyone, "We are off to Lopinsand then"
Emboldened by his presumed fear of facing us. "He agiates the waters spirit by his passage. Do you think he is going to flee north in to the desert?"
"I hope so. I the spirits are much more attentive away from the clothing of man."
Emboldened by his presumed fear of facing us. "He agiates the waters spirit by his passage. Do you think he is going to flee north in to the desert?"
"I hope so. I the spirits are much more attentive away from the clothing of man."
"Sir, I have no idea what you are saying...but if mounting an expedition into the desert is at hand I think all gathered here must venture together. Count me in. I suggest we retire, gather our gear, and meet here tomorrow."
"Yes, let's go to Lopinsand." Says Hera in response to Elrosse.
Shym gets up early the next morning, anxious about the foray into the desert. He prepares his spells (), grabs a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese, and heads back to the bridge to meet up with all the strangers from the night before. On his way out the door, he writes a letter to his father stating his intent and leaves his cain. "It'll probably be days before they even know I'm gone," he thinks to himself.
Hera looks surprised at being accused, but willingly goes with the guard, ready to prove her innocence.
Xaephon at the sight of the watchmen slips to the rear of the group ready for flight.
But seeing Hera confidently surrender he decides to as well.
Shym rolls his eyes and wishes dearly he hadn't left his cain at home - this flippin' crossbow is way heavier than it looks.
Elerosse looks at the guards, then everyone else. Elerosse smiles keeping quiet,
"Where was this witness when he saw the murder?" Hera asks the guard while being led away.
So good gentlemen, you say we were observed at the scene of the murder? As my companion has asked, who is this witness that saw us but not the deed? He must have been close at hand to have been able to describe us so sufficiently...he therefore must have mentioned that we were on the far side of the bridge from Actar. I'm afraid we have little else we can contribute.