Now you have a tenative position here at the temple. You hunt to put meet on the priestesses' table. You also scout to alert the Hand of Jorin, the group that saved you, to any hostile activities, be they bandits, goblinoids, or dwarven forces looking to stop the Hand's activities. This tends to be unofficial work on your part; the Hand have not actually accepted you into their ranks, and frown on independent activity they do not control.
You've just been given a mission by Amara, one of the clerics at the shrine. She received a concerning warning during a divination. It concerns a messenger sent to gather a team for a mission. She is concerned that the mission may be in jeopardy, and wishes you to go investigate.
Saori, a half-elf ward of the shrine and an acquaintance of yours, was sent to lead the team back to the shrine for further instructions. Amara would like you to head into Three Oaks and ensure Saori's mission is a success. If something has happened to her, it will fall to you to lead the group to the shrine. You are provided with names and physical descriptions of the four (the other PCs).
[ooc]Your current funds are 1gp, 15sp and 3cp
As he is about to go into more detail, a tall, handsome young man comes in the door, his blond hair mussed from the wind, blue eyes bright and taking in the company in the common room. Judging from the lute across his back, he's a minstrel. The welcome idea of some tunes goes by the wayside as instead his attention is attracted by a willowy woman at the bar you do not recognize. He moves to her side and spends some time chatting her up. Eventually, he takes her arm and leads her from the inn.
Ren heads to the village, hoping he'll get there in time to contact Saori's party.
"Who was that! And why doesn't that ever happen to me?" She says moping then turns to the farmer and asks if he knows any more information.
Remy enters the tavern deep in thought. The change in guards is disturbing to say the least.
The farmer chuckles. "Saw him come into town a few hours ago, hitched a ride on a hay wagon. He was singing a little ditty about a clumsy dwarf cleric. Funny stuff, but with the guards in town he'd best keep that sort of thing quiet."
He takes a pull from his mug, then continues,"Anyway, I heard tell from a cousin of mine, over in Dunshale, that about six years back there was a terrible time of it at Harvestide. A buncha them cave gnomes raided the village. Would have made off with a good chunk of the harvest if the locals hadn't fought back as hard as they did. The dwarves were holed up in their steading.
Then later that winter the Narok raided, not long after the first snowstorm of the season. This time the dwarves helped fend 'em off, but there were still a lot 'o lives lost.
A'course, things got worse. Apparently some o' the village folks that fought had sorcerous powers...demon-blooded, or somesuch thing. The inquisitors came into town, rooted 'em out and executed 'em. Burned a merchant and his wife at the stake. It was a day later that the Thane's son was murdered in the local tavern, stabbed in the back with a pair o' knives. A group of young folk up and ran. They say the dwarves put a price on their heads and sent out patrols to round them up. Never did hear what happened. My cousin thinks they went into the wilds and joined one of the bandit groups. Might be some truth to that, 'cause things kept happening.
You know how it is with that sort of trouble...like a pebble tossed in a pond, it ripples out everywhere else. Bandits started hitting harder on dwarven caravans, there were revolts and uprisings. It's all been getting worse with each passing year.
My guess is that our Thane got wind of somethin' stirrin' and wants to make sure there's no trouble. Me, I'd just like to have a good festival and rest safely in the knowledge that what we have'll see us through another winter."
Remy:You make your way into the Huntsman's Rest with about a half dozen other ranch-hands. They make their way in and start greeting friends, breaking off to this or that table and joining conversations. You grab yourself a drink and wander through the room, finding yourself taken in by the tale of a farmer, who seems to be relating stories of local troubles in a pseudo-conspiratorial tone.
Ren: You make haste to travel south and west to Three Oaks, making use of what daylight you have left. Unfortunately, it is already late in the day when you set out, and travel is slow without a road. You do manage to reach the edge of wood by dusk, however, and find a good spot to camp for the night: a copse of trees that will shelter you from the wind and hide your fire. If you start out at first light, you should be able to make the village by midday on Harvestide.
"Interesting that the don't seem to trust the local law enforcement enough to leave them at their posts."
Remy comments out loud as he walks across the room coming back to the bar to lean with his back against it.
"With the first rays of sun", says Ren to himself, "I'll need to hurry to the village."
erius listens carefully but does not say anything
"Interesting that the don't seem to trust the local law enforcement enough to leave them at their posts."
Remy comments out loud as he walks across the room coming back to the bar to lean with his back against it.
One of the farmers, a balding man with a short, wooly beard, looks over at Remy. "Nah, that's not the case at all. Its our holiday, them dwarves are just givin' Jeron and his crew a break is all."
The older fellow speaking to Illiana and Erius nods. "Could be true. Then again, like I've been saying, with all the woe that's been coming up at these times, better they're on hand to help than we have to fend for ourselves."
Ren: Please make a Perception roll for me.
You bed down for the night, comfortable with sleeping under the stars. Your rest goes uninterrupted, except for some disturbing dreams...
You dream you are in Three Oaks. It is evening. There is a lively dance going on in an open field, surrounded by streamer-bedecked trees and paper lanterns. Everyone wears masks. As the dance reaches its conclusion, everyone around you removes theirs, revealing a bleached skull beneath. They all turn and face you, waiting for you to remove your mask. You cannot move, afraid of what lies beneath your mask. A cold, bony hand takes yours and you turn to face your dance partner, staring into the empty sockets of her face. The jaw swings wide and you hear the whisper of a feminine voice. "Soon," is all it says.
You start awake to find the trees around you lightening with the dawn. A faint mist clings to the ground, chilling you. You are alone and unharmed, yet you can almost still feel the cold touch of your dream upon your hand.
Ren shudders. "Perhaps it's time to get on the road again", he says to himself.
Eruis is still sitting queitly, listening to what others around him are saying
After a while of sitting and listening to gossip, Illiana bids good evening to Erius and heads home to rest for the night.
Remy shakes his head as he listens. It would seem that the locals complacently accept whatever the Dwarves feed them.
The night grows later and talk eventually turns to the lighter topics of tomorrow's festival. Folk are excited about the various happenings-- the games, the foot race, the cooking contests, and the Harvestide dance-- too much so to worry overmuch about a few dwarves in town. Your characters eat and drink their fill.
You all depart for the night, getting a good night's sleep before the festival.
If the night passes uneventfully, Illiana wakes and prepares for the festival. She has her usual breakfast of toast and tea while checking her arrows and bow yet again.
The night passes without incident and the characters in town awake refreshed and ready for the festival. Outside, folk wander about chatting and enjoying themselves, with many heading to the green to prepare for the day's events. The smells of baked goods and cooking food already begins to fill the air. Many go about in their Harvestide masks, though in a village of this size, ferreting out the identity of those behind them isn't difficult.
erius will have a go at all of the events except the running!
Remy is content to observe, enjoying a true moment of human endeavor and brotherhood.
Young Kaidar still travels. He looks forward to the hot cup of tea at the end of his journey.
Shadow:
Illiana walks into town and heads to the archery event to size up the competition.
The rest of you break fast in the morning and enjoy the general state of revelry until the sun begins to rise toward its zenith. Folk begin to flock to the green in anticipation of the day's events.
shadow:
The Archery Contest: Contestants will take three shots with a longbow at a target placed 100ft away. Arrows will be provided, as will bows if the contestant does not own one. After each contestant has made three attack rolls, points will be determined and the targets will be moved back 100 ft (-2 range increment penalty). After three shots, the targets move back another 100ft (-4). After the final three shots, points are tallied. Winner is the archer with the highest point total.
Stone Hurling: Contestants will take turns tossing a 20lb stone for distance. Each contestant will make a ranged attack roll and a second d20 plus their Str modifier. There will be three tosses by each contestant, with the longest throw taken into consideration. The contestant with the most distance on their stone will win.
The Log Bout: This is a melee tournament. Contestants will fight with padded quarterstaves (non-lethal dmg) on a log over a mud pit. Each round, in addition to their regular attacks, contestants must make an Acrobatics check (DC5) each round to maintain their footing on the log. However, each point of damage taken that round will increase the DC of the check by one. A winner is declared when one opponent is knocked off into the mud, dropped to below 0 hit points and falls, or a combatant concedes the match. Winners will be paired against one another in the next round, and so on, until the final two contestants battle for the championship.
Also, the contestant who falls most quickly is declared the Mud King. They will be paraded around the festival grounds on a litter, with a mud crown. Mostly the villagers have a good laugh, though certain malicious children (and occasional adults) will add more grime by throwing more mud or clods of dirt at the Mud King. It provides incentive to train harder and do well the next year...
erius is ready and eager to start
"Excuse me, could I have some tea? And perhaps something to eat?"
Illiana steps up to the competition feeling a little distracted as she thinks about the happenings of the previous evening.
Erius: For your first round bout, you are paired up against Tad Erem, a local farmhand. He's a big fellow, nearly six and a half feet in height. You approach and step up on your end of the log, staring across at the man. He grins at you, his babyface incongruous with his broad shoulders and ham-like fists. You're fairly certain that a hit from him is going to feel like a horse's kick. Luckily, you've seen him at enough dances to know that he's got two left feet.
Ren:The big-bellied "satyr" looks your way. "Of course, sir, and a happy Harvestide to you!" He shouts into the door of the inn for someone to put on some tea. "Welcome to the Huntsman's Rest," he says, as he looks you up and down, "It certainly looks like you came to the right place. Perhaps a nice hot mutton and onion pie to go with your tea? Made fresh today." He wipes a hand on his apron and then offers it to you. "M'name's Ouryn Dunmont, the owner."
Illiana: On the first round, you and the other seven contestants take your marks and fire at your targets. Your first shot hits the middle ring. The second hits near center. The third hits the middle ring again. The Town Speaker, who is judging the competition, moves forward to examine your second shot, it is declared a bullseye. You earn a total of 16 points in the first round. After all the points are totaled, you are tied for third place. Jeron manages three bullseyes in the first round, taking the lead with 30 points.
The targets are set back a hundred feet. The contestants again take their shots. Jeron does not do well this round, only placing two arrows in the outer ring and one in the middle. You manage two bulleyes with your first two shots, but go high with your third, missing the target entirely. Jeron actually laughs aloud when you miss. This appears to be a sign of nervousness, however, as the 20 points you earn this round put you in second place, only a single point behind him.
The targets are moved back again. Your nerves get the best of you, as your first shot hits the middle ring, but the second misses entirely, the last barely hitting the outer ring. Your total points for the round are four, bringing your total to 40 for all three rounds.
Your total is only enough to bring you to second place. A local hunter from the surrounding area named Bearns does quite well in the second and third rounds, tying Jeron Wellard for first place.
Speaker Steadwatch announces that there will be a tie-breaking round. A single target is moved back another 100 feet. Bearns, a grizzled looking man in his middle years, steps up first and takes his shots. The first hits the outer ring, the second the middle ring, and his final shot is a bullseye, which raises a cheer from the crowd.
The constable then takes his mark. His first shot hits the middle ring. The second does the same, putting him eight points behind his competitor. Frowning, he stalks angrily away from his mark, striding over to the arrow barrel, which he kicks angrily. The Speaker, his brow furrowed, moves over and exchanges words in low tones with the constable, reaching up and placing a hand on the bow and pointing back toward the target, indicating he should take his last shot.
Jeron moves back to his mark, knocks his arrow, and lets fly with hardly a pause to aim. His arrow arcs through the air to hit the target dead center, splitting Bearn's arrow cleanly. He raises his bow in the air and gives a victory whoop, as the crowd erupts in a great cry over his excellent shot. Speaker Steadwatch declares him the victor, the bullseye placing his total score at 60, two higher than Bearns.
init roll1d20+2=9
stone toss
lets see if i can do better!
3 throws 1d20+2=5, 1d20+2=22, 1d20+2=8
distances 1d20+4=13, 1d20+4=14, 1d20+4=9
Erius:Each throw is taken in turn, giving time for a contestant to rest between tosses. You are third on the roster, with five other contestants after you. The first two manage fair throws. Feeling confident, you take your place, Hefting up the stone in both hands, just below the rib cage. You take three steps toward the line, twisting as you do so, heaving the stone up and forward with a great grunt of effort.
Unfortunately, though you manage to get a good amount of power into the toss, your technique is off. The throw goes left as much as forward, cutting down your distance. Your toss is a disappointing twelve feet.
You note that amongst your competitors is Iliana's stepfather, Azryn, an outcast dwarf. He is stripped to the waist, showing his stocky, powerful smith's build. The angular tattoos upon the left side of his face twist as he furrows his brown in concentration. Azryn's first toss is a good one, netting him a sixteen foot distance. His presence here is no surprise to the villagers, but seems to draw interest from the dwarven guards; two of them stop nearby as they are making their rounds, watching and occasionally speaking to one another. They are too far away for you to hear their conversation, but the occasional laugh infers that they are having fun at his expense.
You correct your form on the second toss, getting a good high arc with a decent amount of force behind it, managing a 23 foot distance.
The dwarven guards have moved closer now as Azryn prepares to take his second toss. As he hefts his stone and moves into the toss, one of the dwarves makes a comment in his native tongue. Whatever he says has an obvious effect on the smith, who falters, his toss going wide. He doesn't even watch it. He turns, hands clenched tightly into fists at his side, as he stomps back to the waiting area. The dwarves have a chuckle at his expense.
Your third toss goes slightly to the left and lacks a bit in power. 23 feet is your best at this point, but it is so far the best throw of the competition. You are confident until Azryn once again takes his turn.
The whole time the outcast dwarf's eyes do not leave the two guards. Once again one of them speaks, his tone questioning. Azryn's face twists into a grimace. He takes his mark, quickly takes the steps, brings the stone up...
...then halts his momentum. The stone drops from his hands, a mere foot from his boots. He turns on his heel and walks away, head down, leaving the field.
The judge, a bit confused, quickly steps in and declares Erius the winner of the competition. There are cheers from the onlookers, enthusiastic but still confused over the events concerning Azryn. The two dwarves move off and continue their rounds.
Remy: You stroll the green, enjoying the sights and sounds of the festival. You manage to catch the beginning of the foot race, where a large group of folk, youths and adults, stand at the starting line. Apparently the race runs a rough circuit around the village proper, through various areas. Beyond the starting line you can see a couple of folk holding orange flags, apparently marking the course. At the cry and hand gesture of the judge, the group takes off, feet pounding along the green heading out of town.
"That would be very nice, Ouryn. Tell me, have I stumbled on some kind of celebration?"
Illiana walks up to congratulate Jeron and says within earshot of the town speaker, "Congratulations Sheriff. You really pulled it out at the end there. It was magical." At that she will look at him for a response then turn and walk away making eye contact with Zachary and tossing him a wave.
Well at least Will didn't beat me. Azryn will be happy he doesn't have to give away his wares for free, though his breath will smell of leeks for a while.
"That would be very nice, Ouryn. Tell me, have I stumbled on some kind of celebration?"
The man laughs. "Of course, lad. It's Harvestide. Last big outdoor shindig before winter sets in. Celebrating all the land has offered up to us this season, that's the reason for it." He tilts his head as he looks at you, scratching under the hair of the mask. "Sure if we haven't gotten a lot of queer visitors today...not knowin' its Harvestide, you must be from a ways off."
Ouryn shrugs, then reaches into a crate near one of the tables, rummaging around. "Well, then, here's a Harvestide gift for you. Can't have you running around the celebration without a mask." He pulls out a mask of leather and fur, in the shape of a wolf's face, and hands it to you.
Illiana walks up to congratulate Jeron and says within earshot of the town speaker, "Congratulations Sheriff. You really pulled it out at the end there. It was magical." At that she will look at him for a response then turn and walk away making eye contact with Zachary and tossing him a wave.
Well at least Will didn't beat me. Azryn will be happy he doesn't have to give away his wares for free, though his breath will smell of leeks for a while.
You note that Speaker Steadwatch's reaction is obvious, as he gets a positively stricken look on his face, which reddens, and he immediately lowers his gaze, fumbling with his waistcoat. He mumbles something about preparations for the awards ceremony and quickly turns tail, his small slight form lost quickly in the crowd.
For Jeron, the comment seems to go right by him, as he simply grins. He begins speaking to those around about just knowing the right moment to loose the arrow, that there's a certain warrior's instinct about it.
init roll1d20+2=9
Tad strides out to meet you at the center of the log, his great grin still plastered to his round, boyish face. His eagerness does him no favors, however, as his first attack is a wide swipe that you easily duck under.
Ren accepts the mask, fighting the tears and trying not to show his feelings. His father had a wolf as companion.
Ren:Despite your efforts, something obviously shows on your face, as Ouryn's posture changes and he seems almost hesitant to hand it to you. However, he apparently decides to overlook your response, pressing the mask into your hand. "Okay, then lad, let me get you a pie and some ale. Then you go ahead and make your way over to the green and enjoy yourself."
Erius: You duck Tad's blow, then come up swiftly, swinging your staff two-handed. Your shot catches Tad in the ribs, under his right arm. He gives a grunt, wobbling toward his left, but recovers. You're rather surprised that your strike doesn't take more out of him, but surely he can't stand too many hits like that, no matter how big he is.
As you straighten up and pull back for another swing, Tad braces himself and jabs the end of the staff at you, spear-like. The blow catches you in the sternum, doing 5 points of damage.
(sorry invis castle seems to be down again! i will roll using real dice, hope thats ok)
acrobatics ( rolled a 1!!) so a total of 2!
I go into the mud!
Erius comes up smiling and congratulates his opponent!
Erius, as you attempt to put yourself upright in the mud, Tad laughs and then moves off the log to the side of the pit and helps pull you out. He shakes your hand and gives you a clap on the shoulder. "I tell ya, that was a good hit. I'll be feelin' it in the morning, sure enough."
The combat continues, and Tad is eliminated in the next round. After several exciting bouts and vanquished, muddy contestants, the winner is Aron Berner, a lanky fellow that raises hunting dogs. Due to his spectacular fall, Erius is proclaimed this year's Mud King.
Erius is taken to a chair that has been attached to a pallet. Once he has taken his "throne," a long fake beard is put on him. He is then "crowned" with a bucket of mud from the pit, which is dumped over his head and then the empty bucket placed on the top of his head. Tad and three other strong former contestants lift the makeshift litter and bear Erius around the green, where folk laugh and often give exaggerated bows and curtsies, exclaiming "Your Majesty!" And, of course, there are those that take the time to get Erius dirtier still with thrown clods of mud. Once the procession has made three circuits of the green, Erius is let down from the litter, and taken to a rain barrel where his porters give him a dunking to help clean him off. Then he is given a tall mug of hot spiced cider to ward off the chill.
erius takes everything in good humour and joins in the fun