Beldan has not at all enjoyed the journey through the swamp. If anyone gets bitten by midge-flies, it’s him. If anyone falls knee-deep into a hole of muddy water on jumping down from the wagon, it’s him. If anyone encounters a nettle bush whilst peeing, yup, it’s him.
“I hate this swamp,” he’s heard to exclaim on numerous occasions, before blushing if Bitha looks over in his direction.
Upon meeting the strange elf, Beldan gives a half hearted wave of greeting, then sighs and puts his head in his hands.
“More rustic accents, oh joy … I hate this swamp.”
(Gittik, as a denizen of the forest, has reasons to dislike elves.)
"Yeah, elf talk stupid, not like you and me."
"Well laddies, I fer woone doon't mind 'is joinin' oos. T'aint as eef 'ees gonna amboosh us an' eet's always good teh have an extra sword. A good few of hees kin 'ave been teh Dreadhold tradin' fer our steel an' they've nevar doon oos wrong."
I echo your sentiment quite verily, Beldan. More rubes. So much for my 'legendary' company. How is a person of my worth supposed to become the man of mythical deeds with such company? Not a very illustrius beginning.......Maybe this isn't what the gods had in store for me...need to re-evaluate my current company......*trails off*
"By Moradin! You children are givin' ol' Stig a headache. I shoold 'a brought a keg wi' me."
Stig whips the mule and sets off again.
"Coome now, soons, lits git this oover with."
Anyone who rides the wagon has to put up with the mule's farts.
"Ah swear ever'time tha' mule breaks wind mah eyes water. I kip thinkin' 'e's dyin' boot nay, 'e's bin blowin' tha' steenk since Soltmarsh. 'Course the Hool int mooch bettah."
"Hear it? Soome foolks are a clammerin' oop ahead."
If you imbeciles would stop the incessant chatter in dialects of questionable origin perhaps YOU would here that there is a group of humanoid men before us in the fog walking....Ya'll.....morons.....
listen1d20+3=23
If you imbeciles would stop the incessant chatter in dialects of questionable origin perhaps YOU would here that there is a group of humanoid men before us in the fog walking....Ya'll.....morons.....
"Thas wo Ah said ye addle brained mincer. I dinoo whats hartin' me head moor, yer boolshit er the mules farts."
OOOOH!!! FAKEY MAKEE LISTEN CHECK!!!
Amongst the chattering you hear.....
the voice....of SWERTLOWE!!!
Swertlowe, who was always at the library, like yourself; who along with his tribe of goons would routinely try to waylay you on the way home and steal books you were loaned so HE could keep them...
whose main philosophical belief was that his brawn which, according to him, "bordered on nossing short of le-gend-ar-y" would always win the day against your intellect which, though truly impressive, was still nothing short of feeble in conception...
You hear somebody say, "what next, Swertlowe?"
"That's Lord Swertlowe, sankyou. Say it. Say it right, you puny creature."
"Uh...what next, Lord Swertlowe?"
"Aah, sankyou. Send the grovelly one up to have a look. When he comes back and gives report, we bring the main body of my elite strike force up. The feeble old woman will cave in the face of my superior strength. They always do."
<Stigwold keeps talking as Reise tries to focus his genetically superior hearing.>
"Ye remind me of me broother Ænus - 'e joost kint stoop tookin' aboot 'is prowess as a smithy. Aye, 'e meks a clean blade, boot whoot an arse...."
They are planning an assault on the woman we were sent to guide...I have had a run-in with one of their lot, apparently the leader, who is definately a bad apple. I doubt we will be able to treat with them.
Be prepared to fight.
"Rice, ye finally said soomthin' I'm warm te."
<Stig stops the wagon and readies himself for smackdown time.>
Beldan, head firmly in hands, hears nothing but his own moaning, until Riese and Stig call his attention to the voices … at which point he stops moping and leans in close to the others.
“You just want to run up and fight these guys?” he whispers. “We don’t know how many of them there are, or how strong! Didn’t you say he said something about a main elite strike force? That sounds serious…”
Beldan gulps and swallows, then sticks his chin out bravely. “I could go and have a look see, if you want … I can move pretty quiet. Or I could sneak ‘round and try to warn granny that she has company. If she’s really some famous ‘venturing wizard, she might be able to turn them all into toads without us having to get our blades dirty.”
edit everybody can mod their inish off of 13 when (or if) combat breaks out.
Beldan skulks off, wraith-like, into the mist, and is soon lost to sight and sound from his companions.
He doesn’t get far though. Things like landscape and nature are not kind to this city boy, and Beldan soon finds the hills worse even than the swamp.
Bugger this for a joke, he thinks, as he flails quietly about, looking for a good place to scramble up the slope, I’m no second story man.
Beldan slides down the hill; is stopped by a tree from going too far.
Doesn't hear anything but the guys walking up the trail to the house.
What now?
"Woof, woof"
There's a 1 foot tall statue of a garden gnome, with a red hat, blue jacket, brown pointy shoes, smoking a pipe; lifeless eyes and a toothy grin....it seems to be amused by Beldan's exploits.
"Shoot yer yap ye mangy fleabitten hoond!"
<Kicks Tenser. Not too hard, though, animal lovers.>
"Rorry"
Not much chance I’ll be able to get up close to them and back to the others with anything useful now, he thinks. Maybe Granny has a nice little garden path down to the swamp, replete with stairs I can use … I’ll try to get ahead of them. Shut up you stupid gnome!
(Used wrong avatar above - force of habit.)
"Good - me go with deaf and blind human, climb up hill, ambush war party, kill enemies." Gittik looks absurdly cheerful all of a sudden.
However, while maintaining total silence, he also slips and falls down with Belden. "Stupid human - why you climb here?" he whispers fiercely. (Move Silently 23, Climb 8). He follows the rogue and gets to the top with him at the next point. (Climb 14, MS 24.)
He draws his blades and licks his scimitar, making his tongue bleed. "Chara jor tar vor, lema," he croons to his sword.
(In Goblin, you shall taste the blood of my enemies soon, pretty one.)
(Used wrong avatar above - force of habit.)
"Good - me go with deaf and blind human, climb up hill, ambush war party, kill enemies." Gittik looks absurdly cheerful all of a sudden.
"Woof, woof"
somewhere otherworldly called the House of Fate, bones chatter across the table as the gods play at dice.
As the climber(s) crest the hill, they come to a low (well, to humans maybe not to Gittik) 1 meter wall of stone, girdling the house and the courtyard directly east of the house.
(let's see....copy....paste....aah yes...)
There's a courtyard surrounded by a low (1 meter) stone fence. the house is roughly square, 70 feet a side. A roofed porch, 15 feet by 50 feet, overlooks the courtyard. Three stout oaks, an outbuilding, and a well are in the courtyard; as you scout the body of men is spilling into the courtyard from an arched gateway of stone.
Okay, grid from A to Y across the top; 1-33 down the side. The fence runs from a3 to p3, p 3 to the arch at p12, p15 to p22, and p22 to a22 and continues off the map. The eastern edge of the house occupies a7 to a20. The porch occupies b8-b10, down to b18-b20. There's a stair at e13, and a door into the house at b13. The outhouse is at j6, the well is at o15, trees at f4f5g4g5, m7m8n7n8, and i19120j19j20 within the courtyard. There's also numerous trees beyond, at s-t3-4, s-t11-12, q-r17-18, d-e22-23, and m-n26-27. The trail runs vw33 up to vw17, where it curves into the archway at p12-15.
The forces of Lord Swertlow stand at the arched gateway.
You see A human, blond with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail, lightly armored with a great Baklunish headsman's tulwar strapped to his back. There's a halforc savage with him, painted like an Olman in blues and blacks, carring an enormous maqahuitl. A man in black robes and a black wide-brimmed hat accompanies them, as do a mixed band of 11 scruffy warriors in dingy leather. Most are (mostly) human; a halforc here and there amongst their number.
They pour into the courtyard.
Granny sits on a rocking chair on the porch at b12 smoking her pipe.
She looks old as an oak, a pungent smoke can be detected.
"Granny! Come down from there!
Your time is over in this place. I have come to liberate your prodigious possessions to begin arming my army with. Please, donot stand in the way of the future over there. Please, retire gracefully, for your time of greatness has long been over."
It's Swertlow, a ferretlike snicker on his yapper.
spot roll for the scouts, 15
“Oh shit,” whispers Beldan, peering over the wall. “Here’s the plan Gittik. We wait to see how Granny deals with this – sound good?”
Despite his cowardly words, Beldan is carefully and quietly unlimbering and loading his crossbow.
“That black robed fellow ain’t right,” he mutters.
Swertlow is at j13 running his mouth. The halforc olman is at o12, the zombie is at o14. Eleven mixed human warriors are at h7, i8, k8, j10, L10, n10, m11, L12, k16, k18, and L18.
"Who the hell do you think you are, you 'Cob-damned little fink! Get the hell off of my land! Get the hell off of my property! Leave an old woman alone, you snotnosed little son of a b!+~+!" Granny lets loose. Her crackly voice carries down to the bottom of the hill where the jabbering dwarf and his barking mutt hear it.
"Granny, my such a mouth," retorts Swertlow. "Please be reasonable. You don't have to be injured over there."
"WHAT? Get the hell outta here, 'Cob-dammit!!!"
The droning clip of hoofbeats echoes in the mist, as a rider makes his way through the peat and mud, stopping in the midst of what would be (loosely) "town square" in Peatside Thorp.
Dismounting, he glances around to see where these "movers" could be - and spots a wagon with several people lingering around it, notably the girl in a red cloak he was told to look for.
He looks tall and wears what looks like a rumpled wide-brimmed hat on his head. He wears a grey habit, and might be a monk. A silvery emblem hangs from his neck.
He also pulls and half-slings a darkened metal shield from the horse's saddle - a golden, mannish sun-face impressed across the front of it.
He takes in the sight of several men, a bellowing dwarf, a dog, a halfling, and some kind of elf pointing up at a large house on a rise. He make his way towards the girl:
"Hello...Bitha is it? Your uncle sent me to assist you and your grandmother...what's happens here?"
There's a slight drawl in Becton's words...more a lingering on y's and r's.
Bitha to Becton of Pelor--rewind to a few dozen minutes in the past--"We're going to gather up my grandmother's belongings, and move her to the fort. The surrounding people are all moving out due to...the changes in the wind."
Just waiting to see what Gittik does at this point.
Gittik, Beldan can place themselves anywhere on the southern border fence. Everybody else starts on the road, at v or w 25. After Gittik says what he wants to do, we're on.
"We're going to gather up my grandmother's belongings, and move her to the fort. The surrounding people are all moving out due to...the changes in the wind."
"What changes are those that you speak of, I may ask...you sound a little uncomfortable with this situation..."
They are planning an assault on the woman we were sent to guide...I have had a run-in with one of their lot, apparently the leader, who is definately a bad apple. I doubt we will be able to treat with them.Be prepared to fight.
“You just want to run up and fight these guys?” he whispers. “We don’t know how many of them there are, or how strong! Didn’t you say he said something about a main elite strike force? That sounds serious…”Beldan gulps and swallows, then sticks his chin out bravely. “I could go and have a look see, if you want … I can move pretty quiet. Or I could sneak ‘round and try to warn granny that she has company. If she’s really some famous ‘venturing wizard, she might be able to turn them all into toads without us having to get our blades dirty.”
Staring slightly dumbfounded at these sudden pronouncements,
"Miss...are you sure you these men are alright? It seems a little extreme to suddenly make such declarations..."
"Who the hell do you think you are, you 'Cob-damned little fink! Get the hell off of my land! Get the hell off of my property! Leave an old woman alone, you snotnosed little son of a b#@&~!" Granny lets loose.
"Granny, my such a mouth," retorts Swertlow. "Please be reasonable. You don't have to be injured over there.""WHAT? Get the hell outta here, 'Cob-dammit!!!"
With this last exchange, Becton looks to see Bitha's response, asking: "Grandmother?"
"Sounds like this change has come sooner than expected."
wrt changes--the Fort Bale has recently changed hands from the Secunforth, Viscount of Salinmoor, to the Neheli family. The winds are changing, and warflags fly in what used to be the Hold of the Sea Princes. These new Neheli are raw recruits, untried, and the local folk have decided to pull out. What's more, the call for mercenaries put out by Secunforth has been vetoed by the Neheli Garrisoner.
wrt men...alright...."well, they've been nothing but gentlemen this entire trip."
Yeah. The very easternmost part of the house takes up squares a7 through a20. The porch takes up squares b9, c9, d9, down to squares b18, c18, and d18; a rectangle 15 feet east to west by 50 feet north to south.
Man, Aubrey makes this junk look easy. ;)
You can be at f22 and be this side of the courtyard. The wall runs in the line between 21 and 22 blocks. Guess that wasn't so clear...
3 weeks ago:
"Galdel was buried this morning...and here I am holding some old hat with a promise to keep."
Suddenly...he very much missed home...after 6 years or so...he wanted to go home...rest, maybe?
"You know the way for me, my Lord...what's it to be?" As if on impulse...he suddenly decided to place the hat on his head. Despite their differences...the fit was perfect. A sudden wave of optimism bubbled forth..."looks like I go to Saltmarsh."
Shortly, he manages to appropriate a horse with a favor from Sargent Tavis.
"If you're looking to get to Saltmarsh, follow the border and go south. Once you get as far the Hool Swamp, turn east. I'd ask any outpost you stop at for directions to Bale Keep. When you get there, ask for a Sargent Chorch...tell that one-eyed sonna o' b~*+& that he still owes Tavis 10 gold for that girl's luck in Seaton."
Puzzled, but glad for the help...he rides south and prays Pelor keep him safe.
Twoish hours ago (give or take)
Fort Bale looks imposing, but inviting after having slept fitfully so near the Hool marshes. "So bloody warm after months of mountain and forests in Geoff's border...be glad to get a drink and some rest."
Arriving at the doors, the appearance of a Keoish military horseman is enough to get him in. He finds himself speaking with a one-eyed soldier, who is deferred to as a sargent. Immediately curious:
"Hello Sargent, I'm here on unoffcial duties and believe this mount is the property of the Keoish Army...so I wanted to leave it here before I made my way to Saltmarsh."
"An how do I know ye' be in the service of Keoland that warrants you such steed? You could be brigan for all I's know."
"Barring my religious role, I was told that I'd be OK if I told you that Tavis still expects you to pay him his 10 gold..."
"Fer what?"
"I believe something involving getting lucky with a girl in Seaton."
With a sudden wide grin, he utters: "That two-timn' goat scroat...he sent ye' here!?"
Explanations of his travels follows; but it's Chorch who must still explain things and ask a favor.
"Well lad, I like ya and I'd do anythin to help out old Tavis...but there's new lords 'ere now...I haffta at least give some reason for ya being here..."
"Perhaps you can help me out...me niece, Bitha, has recruited a bunch mercenary cranks to help 'er with 'er Grandmother's things. They seem a bit swamp-addled; or at least drunk from the ale they guzzled an' left us short on...."
"Perha'ps ye could follow them and make sure it goes a'right...even let ye' use the horse to make it 'official', as it were. Jes' make sure she's a'right and then you can press on to Saltmarsh...ye could be there and return the beast to the local garrison by nightfall, me thinks."
Not wanting to create any burdens on the man...but still somewhat tired...he agrees; at least after he gets some brew in him. Then, he rides hard to catch these "moving" men and Chorch's niece. "Pelor guide me...I hope this isn't some fool's errand."
Gittik isn't the type to see how things pan out, but he also isn't the type to ask for honourable combat. Ignoring Beldan's advice, he stealthily climbs over the fence where one of the trees obscures the view of the warriors in the yard and creeps to within ambush range, weapons drawn.
Yeah, should have figured that was the case with the fence, given that there’s a tree halfway through it the way I drew it. Cool, porch is understood, and put me at F22.
Granny reaches under her lapblanket and pulls out a cane.
"THOOP!!! THOOP!!! " Two smoking trails, two bottlerocket pops; the warriors at J10 and L12 flop to the ground with magic missile holes in their head.
"Get the hell off my 'Cob damned property!!! Sunsa b$$&$es!!! Coming up here, trying to bully a poor old, defenseless woman!!!!!"
Go Aubs! Go Mothers! Everybody else can move, then I'll post initiative.
Upon hearing the noise, Becton starts to make a charge up the path towards the house. Crossbow is in hand for now.