The village of Ram has always been a quiet, little town. Secluded as it is within the Southern mountains, the politics of the larger Sophian Kingdom have had little effect on the community. Even when the Druman hordes came down from the north to attack the border territories and the Sophian Royal Family put out a call for all able bodied men to join the fight, no one came to take the eligible boys in for training. The only contact Ram has with the outside world is the news brought by the occasional merchant caravans. They usually bring with them new gossip of the royal family and the knights that serve them, but when asked about the war, they only say that the fighting goes poorly. And you have begun to feel the effects. Refugees fleeing the fighting have come as far south as they can to build new lives. While many of them have simply set up new shops or farms in new homes, some have been unable to find work and have become forced to live lives as outlaws, forming roaming bandit gangs that prey on the caravansvthat your village needs for their supplies. Constant attacks have made merchant trip to your village even more rare, and as it is you haven’t had a visit in months.
The sun rises above the mountain tops on a clear, spring day. The villagers go about their daily routine.
I would like everyone to give me a bit of your morning routine, whether it be training, exploring, or chores.
Dawt
Abbicka stirred from her slumber as one of her companions shifted awake. She peeked through bleary eyes and regretted it immediately as painful rays of sun snuck into the shallow cave she made her home and assaulted her senses. Eyes once more tightly shut, she rolled away from the stinging light, intent on sleeping just a while longer. She pulled the small blanket up higher as one of the raptors disentangled itself from the group, but as the other similarly rose, the blanket could not overcome the sudden loss of warmth. Abby pushed herself up into a sitting position, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she squinted in the morning light.
"Lash?" she called out, temporarily blind. "Snowy?" She swept one hand out in front of her seated form, holding it aloft. One of the raptors nuzzled against it. Smaller... this one was Snowfeather. A smile found her face as she rubbed Snowy's head. "Don't stray too far, okay?" she whispered.
roll + skill rank + CHA + untyped (class skill) + circumstance (Link)
Push Animal: Snowfeather to perform Hunt trick (DC 25)
roll + skill rank + CHA + untyped (class skill)
Snowy's head once more nuzzled against her hand, perhaps upset that the petting had stopped. Abby withdrew the hand, placing it on her brow to shield her eyes from the worst of the sunlight, and peeked at her surroundings. Both raptors were still here. Abby let out a small sigh, cleared her throat, and tried again, louder this time. "Don't stray too far, okay?"
roll + skill rank + CHA + untyped (class skill) + circumstance (Link)
Push Animal: Snowfeather to perform Hunt trick (DC 25)
roll + skill rank + CHA + untyped (class skill)
Snowy stiffened, seeming to understand, and then turned to leave. As he approached the cave entrance, Lash snapped at him playfully and he snapped back. Then he was gone, past the wall of light. Abby rubbed at her eyes again, as if rubbing would somehow acclimate them to the dawn. A shiver crept up her back, and she finally abandoned the small pile of leaves and blanket that formed her bed, crawling over to where she'd laid her clothes out the previous night. The linen was cold as she pulled it on, and once dressed, she crawled back to the blanket for warmth. Lash joined her, curling up on the small bed, and despite Abby's indignance that her companion hadn't followed orders, she was happy for the added warmth.
Snowfeather stalked through the forest beyond his nest, silent except for the occasional trill of songbirds. The forest floor being clear of brush and logs was not lost on him, leaving few places for small prey to hide, but neither did he appreciate the effort the villagers must have taken to maintain this forest so. The morning sun penetrated the forest well, creeping under the lofty boughs of the aspens and around the thin covering of needles that clutched to the pines. At ground level, the forest was simply a sea of thin columns of brown and white, the ground bare except for a light dusting of dried pine needles and occasionally freshly dropped white branches.
roll + skill rank + WIS
Snowy paused, becoming still as a slight motion caught his eye. There, at the base of a pine a hundred paces away, a small rabbit was nervously nibbling at the bark. Snow sniffed the air, but the rabbit was downwind. Slowly, carefully, Snowy leaned down into what passed as a crouch for him as the rabbit tilted its head up as if sensing the disturbance nearby, and then exploded forward, a missile of talons and teeth. The rabbit immediately scurried around the side of the tree, and was down a nearby burrow before Snowy reached it. Snowy stuck his snout into the burrow experimentally, snapping his jaws at random in the hopes of catching a leg or flank, but it was too deep. Standing once more, Snowy began scratching at the burrow with one foot, hoping to dig the rabbit out.
A few hours later, Abby was up and about. It had taken a little, but she'd gotten a small fire going in the little pit she'd used the previous night. Snowy had returned without success, but Abby wasn't going to let that get her down. She could go out hunting herself, but it might be easier to go into town and just buy food. She sat before the warm fire, trying to decide which course of action to take. Going to town might be easier, but it carried with it a very different set of discomforts.
"No," she chided herself. Both raptors looked up to see if she'd been talking to them, and then went back to lying about when it was clear she hadn't. "I can't just take it easy forever," she intoned, trying to convince herself. "I'll go into town and buy some meat and bread." She nodded to herself, but remained firmly seated regardless. After a long moment, she slowly rose to her feet. She took in a deep breath, letting it back out slowly. "It's ok. I've got this. It's going to be fine." She walked over to one corner of the small cave where she'd kept all her supplies. She pulled on the rawhide lamellar armor first, before calling to to her companions.
roll + skill rank + CHA + untyped (class skill) + circumstance (Link)
Handle Animal: Snowfeather to perform Come trick (DC 10)
roll + skill rank + CHA + untyped (class skill)
With a bit of effort, Abby managed to lift a saddlebag over Lash's back first, and then the other over Snowy's. She attached a harness about each's neck, and then turned and swung her own backpack on. "I'll have to put your muzzles on when we get closer to town," she apologized softly to the raptors. That out of the way, she secured her skinning knife to her belt, took the gnarled walking stick she'd fashioned into a crude bident in one hand and the harnesses in the other, and moved to the cave entrance.
"Oh! Almost forgot." She turned, catching her bident in the crux of her elbow, and whispered a little spell. A small deluge of water appeared just above the modest fire, snuffing it out immediately. "Alright!" she declared, more for her own benefit than anyone else's. With that, she began the short trek to town.
Cerise fumbled for the small jar of Alchemist's Kindness, only to discover that it was empty. The damn trade caravans still hadn't come. She made a strangled noise of frusteration and disappointment and flopped back down on the bed. Flopping was a bad idea. The sudden movement had her head pounding.
She slowly forced herself to get up and get dressed. She could have stayed in bed, but the Red Gods did not abide laziness. She might have been an exile and a deserter, but she wasn't lazy. The gods still answered her when she called, and that was proof enough of their favor.
The day was obnoxiously bright and people were loud. She walked among them like a thundercloud. By the time she managed to haggle for some breakfast she felt a bit better. With another day of nothing to do, she wandered aimlessly, her thoughts bleak and her head pounding.
Elduin was on his morning patrol, checking in with the local wildlife, greeting everyone a good morning, searching for breakfast. There are so many creatures here, a shame normal people didn't recognize this. On his walk today, he avoided the caves near the creek spring. A gnome and his two dinosaurs had set camp there, and he didn't feel like making contact yet.
Elduin's been living in the area around Ram for all his life. His job and his father's has always been that of a protector and a mediator. He made sure the local resources were not exploited by human settlers or depleted by natural catastrophies. The locals are suspicious towards him and his wild faith. However, most never get to meet or see him anyways. For most people he is nothing more than a rumour, a shadow living in the woods and mountains. Towards the people of Ram Elduin doesn't share their mistrust, but feels no compassion either. As long as everyone respects each other's duties, everything is cool. Except for his dream. Again he had this vision of dangerous folk coming closer from the north, ravaging and pillaging. Somehow he felt he had to prevent this...
He looked up in the sky, checking whether Fowyn was anywhere in sight. The hawk was out catching breakfast for himself. A task that usually didn't take him very long. There was plenty for everyone in this unspoiled nature. Besides, Fowyn was no ordinary hawk. That bird was the most clever animal he ever met and he was honored to call him a friend.
Abbicka’s walk into town was uneventful. Once she enters the town square, she is greeted by the usual funny looks and distant villagers.
Cerise wanders through the market, nursing her hangover. The day is like any other. The same villagers perform the duties necessary to keep the town alive. The only out of place sight would be out of place anywhere: a waist high woman with wild hair and furry clothes being trailed by a pair of slender, reptilian beasts as tall as her.
As Elduin watches Fowyn hunt, he hears the gentle crunching of leaves on the forest floor, and based on the type of steps, it seems like they’re trying to be stealthy about it.
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Garen goes for a run that morning. He churns through the woods, driving up the hills and striding the down slopes. At the bottom, he rounds the base of the hill and takes the deer trail back to his parent's cottage. He leaps the low rock wall surrounding the backyard and grabs the training scimitar from the table. Without resting he transitions into a series of movements that mimic offensive strikes. The movements carry him across the yard to the group of straw men. He then moves through the group, slashing and striking to practice his forms. When his movements carry him out from among the straw men, a stone comes flying at him. He leaps into a dive and comes to his feet. He turns to face Daget.
"Good. Your mother sent me out here to let you know breakfast is ready." Daget said.
"Alright" Garen said, "I'll eat but then I'm headed into the village. I still intend to leave with the next merchant train. It'd be a shame for your training to go to waste."
noone sneaks up on me in my terrain. Elduin silently moves away from whoever there is and observes.
He steps on a branch making quite a noise.
"who is there at this early hour?" He asks towards the steps, his bow ready.
Abby moved through town, eyes down on the road so as not to meet anyone's gaze. And to not trip! she justified to herself. Tripping would draw a lot of attention, and that was the last thing she wanted now. She suddenly found herself acutely aware of her gait: was this how normal people walked? Was she stepping in time, or was her rhythm off? She tried to time it in her head, but she couldn't tell if she was matching her footfalls, or if her footfalls were matching her tempo. Lost in thought, she nearly walked into a cart sitting beside a building. Her face flushed, but maybe no one was watching.
Act natural! She paused to inspect the cart, as if that had been her intent all along, then moved on without a word. Where had she been going again? She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying to clear her thoughts. Why was she here? She'd come to buy food. Where was she now? Trying not to look overtly out of place, she furtively glanced around.
roll + INT
She knew the village a bit from her infrequent visits... there was a bakery near here, right? Probably. She nodded to herself. Oh, but what if someone had seen her nod just now? What would they think she'd been nodding to? She stopped and closed her eyes, trying to shut out everything else. This was fine. She wasn't looking at anyone or judging them, so probably no one was doing the same to her. It was fine. Everything was fine. She took another deep breath. Just have to get to the bakery.
Master was upset. Lashtail could tell, could smell fear on master. There must be threats nearby! Lashtail looked around.
roll + WIS + competence (Pack Focus: Falcon)
A few people were staring at master, at Lashtail and friend Snowfeather. Were they threats? Lashtail didn't see anything else. Why wasn't master giving command for attack? Lashtail did not know, but she would be ready for command. Even with mouth tied shut, Lashtail would be ready to protect master. She followed behind master, ready to pounce the moment master asked.
Daget sits next to a nearby tree. The way he slumps against the trunk to lower himself to the ground draws attention to his age and injury. Come sit next to me, Garen. Your breakfast can wait a minute longer.
Elduin sees a young human man wandering through the woods with a crossbow in his grip. By his movements, he seems to be hunting. When the elf snaps the twig under foot, he turns his attention to the druid and shouts. Found you!
The short redheaded woman in battered looking armor rubbed her eyes and blinked at the even shorter green-haired woman. She seemed like she was trying to figure out if she was hallucinating when someone with a crossbow popped out and started yelling.
"What the f$*~?" she muttered to herself, her weapon sliding into her palm unconsciously.
Scene: Speaking with Daget Marshall
Characters in Scene: Garen Williamson
Daget doesn't speak for almost a minute. He seems to be struggling with his words. I don't want you to misunderstand me. I believe you have learned all you can from my straw training dummies, but I've been to war before. The glory of victory and promise of prestige is very alluring. Between that and the idea that only cowards stay home makes it very hard for anyone your age to not have ideas of going off to fight for the country, but I need you to know that your going to see some true horrors during the fighting. You will see your friends be maimed and die. You could be ordered into a situation where you have no hope of survival, but you will do it, because that is what is expected of you. If your lucky, your sacrifice may even mean something. And I need you to know something else. The squabble between nobles where I lost my leg is very different from what's going on outside this village. When I fought against the soldiers of House Orien, I knew their tactics, and they knew ours. We were fighting neighbors over some wheat fields, and during one of the skirmishes, my battalion was ordered to charge the flank of an enemy unit and my skill at arms got me sent to the front rank. Our charge went off without a hitch, but during the fight, one of my comrades and dismounted a knight and it was his lance that pierced my leg. We didn't have a healer to tend to our wounds, and my leg was infected before we got back home. It had to be removed to save my life. There's something else, too. Your enemy isn't a bunch of peasants only fighting because their lords tell them to. Your going up against the barbarians of the North. They worship war, revel in it. They live by bloodshed and might. When we fought the enemy nobles, there was all sorts of gossip about what the enemy is going to do, what we were going to do, and how it would turn out. On a few occasions, our scouts even used the gossip for reconnaissance, but in this fight, nothing. When you ask what is happening with the war, you get the same answer. It's going badly. There are no horrible tales of slaughter or monsters. The way I figure that means either no is living to tell the stories or what the survivors are seeing is so universally horrible that no one dares speak of it.
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"In the stories of old and the tales you tell, I can hear the bits of truth. But this is what I was meant for. I feel it to my very bones. I have been wearing padded armor to emulate the caravan guards since I was 5 and hunting in the hillsides since then as well. I hear you when you say it will be terrible, and no doubt it will be but, I have an overpowering desire to face the enemy and roar in their face. To let them know my homeland is not for the taking and then to send them to hell where they belong." Garen looks at the old man and smiles, "Your stories not only tell of the sorrows of battle but also of the camaraderie you developed with your fellow soldiers. The bond that keeps men from fleeing in the face of death. I wish to find that, to stoke that fire, and lead men in defense of our way of life. That's who I am, that's how the gods have made me. Now, can I go eat?" Garen finishes, raising his eyebrows, an impish grin growing across his face.
Elduin was slightly angry with himself. He didn't like people very much and now he had to deal with this one. He seemed to be a hunter, which is technically allowed, nature provides vor man, but he still had an odd feeling.
Bow and arrow stretched, he answered: "unless you're hunting elves, you're out of luck. There is no prey here. Drop the weapon!" He steadied his aim to improve accuracy and to look as dang as he was. A few feathers seen to grow behind his ears...
Fowyn will be here soon. He must sense my agitation.
In the village of Ram two things signal the morning: the Rooster, and the smell of breakfast.
Smack dab in the middle of town in a small, well kept shack dwells the Matron of the community and the one responsible for breakfast every morning from just a few coppers each: Mama Cookie.
The elderly woman was older than dirt, or so the rumor went. She had already outlived her husband (god rest his soul) and her second, much younger husband (may the cows pie on his grave), and her children had one foot in the graves themselves (the dears). But not Mama Cookie. She was as sharp and fit as they came and could kill a man at twelve paces with just a sideways glance.
The smells of eggs, bacon, fresh biscuits, gravy, and her hearty stews wafted across the square every morning and today was no different.
Her eating board at the front of her shack was full by sunrise. The fair was a little sparse this time. The caravan hadn't brought some of the supplies she needed, but it was still home cooking and the best food around (even if some of the men would never say such a thing out loud within earshot of their wives).
Yes, Daget replies. Go eat.
Elduin fires off a surprise shot as he watches the hunter's hand muscles twitch.
The shot intentionally passes by the hunter as a warning, but unheaded, he fires the loaded bolt at the elf.
Elduin's hide armor protects him from being pierced by the bolt.
Elduin and his bird can go now.
Abbicka finds her way to the best breakfast in town. The cottage of a village elder the locals call Grandma Cookie. She is greeted by the smell of warm bacon and gravy amidst the crowd gathering at the matron's front door.
Elduin got angry. Is this one of the heretics that don't believe in the divine power of the natural world? His believe was not always accepted. There's always religious fanatics somewhere...
He moved in to get a better shot, but stayed away from any position where the enemy might charge him. He activated his improved aim once again.
"you can still run away"
Fowyn circled the two, but stayed away for now. Men are not his typical size for prey. If his master was injured, he would certainly defend him.
Abby walked towards the serving counter slowly, choosing a free place to approach. She stood patiently without a word until Mama Cookie noticed her naturally. When their eyes met, she started, "So I, uh..." Her voice trailed off, and she broke eye contact, looking down as if searching the counter for what she was going to say. After a moment, she looked back up. "Uh, hi." A moment passed, where Mama Cookie waited for Abby to elaborate.
"Oh, uh... right! Uh..." She looked around, as if getting her bearings. "Bakery!" she finally shouted, maybe a little too loudly. A few others turned to look, then went back to their own conversations. Abby closed her eyes, taking in a quick breath. "S-sorry, let me, uh, let me start over. So, uh, I was looking for the, uh, bakery... because I was hungry. And, uh, then I smelled the food that... I guess you were cooking... so I came here, and, uh, I was wondering if, uh, by chance, maybe I could, uh, buy some food?" She paused again, letting out the rest of the air in her lungs, seeming relieved to have gotten that all out. She broke eye contact again, this time down and to the side, away from the counter. "Oh, but, uh, I understand if there's not any left..."
Grandma Cookie waits patiently for the little one to have her war with her own words. Her little Simon used to do this (the cutie). He grew out of it though. This one looked like she's about as grown as she was likely to get.
When Abbicka is finally done, Mama Cookie turns her back on the gnome, then returns with a bowl of piping hot stew.
There's always food here, Dearie. she says quietly with a small but completely genuine smoile. It's what I do. Well, that and bop little Jeffers when he gets to bullying the others.
Oi! You know I haven't done tha in ages, Mama Cookie! protests a huge man with salt and pepper hair at the end of the makeshift bar.
Ohh don't you talk to me about ages, young man! I know you tried to bully Frank out of that half acre, and I have half a mind to give you an earful for it! she scolds. The man lowers his head and blushes.
You just go ahead and enjoy that, Dearie. Mama cookie says, and then she wheels off to go serve the next batch of partitions, though she's never actually out of earshot.
Ceriese had wandered along after the short woman with the green hair, feeling like she was following her and getting a bit uncomfortable about it. She hadn't really meant to, they'd just been headed to the same place.
"Mornin' Mama," Cerise said with a wave as she got in the line for breakfast. A walk had cleared her head, mostly. Mama Cookie's cooking was almost as good a hangover cure as Alchemist Kindness.
Cerise looked a bit wan and her eyes were red rimmed. Still, she was attractive enough that her appearance made her look like she was some warrior's daughter playing around in armor that wasn't hers. Most of the people here knew better by now, but when Cerise had first come here there'd been a few... tense moments. Mama's sharp tongue had saved a number of the men from being on the receiving end of Cerise's sharp blade.
She dropped some copper coins in Mama's jar and waited her turn for a meal.
Good Morning, Cerise, dear! Ohhh! Looks like you had a little to much last night! One sec and I'll get you sorted proper!
She struts around the kitchen for a moment gathering a hunk of bread, some freshly seared pork, and a mug of fresh milk. She stops by a counter off to the side and pulls out a little pot of liquid that she adds to the milk. Then she's back to Cerise.
Here ya go. Make sure to drink that milk before it curds too bad. And do try to smile a little. We have a new guest in town! She motions to Abbicka.
"I noticed. For being small she's hard to miss." Cerise said, aiming a wry smile in the green haired woman's direction.
She stared at the drink in her hand like it was a foe she was sizing up. This was always the hardest part of a hangover, those first few minutes after putting something down. She and Mama had done this enough times that Cerise didn't argue anymore. Mama's remedy of fresh milk always made her feel sicker at first, then better a short while later.
She took a long pull of her glass of milk, ignoring the protests of her stomach. She let out a long breath as a wave of nausea washed over her. In a bit she'd feel right as rain. Until then, she just needed to tough it out.
"So what brings you all the way out here, Short Stack?" she asked the smaller woman.
Elduin's arrow pierces the hunter's shoulder. He shouts in pain and drops the crossbow before running back in the direction of the village. An empty flask drops off his belt during his retreat.
"Yes, run you fool. This is my turf. And remind the rest not to come here." Elduin shouted the first sentence and spoke the rest to himself. He picked up the crossbow and the empty flask. He smelled the latter to try to determine the former content. With his finger he tasted a last drop.
Fowyn landed on his left arm, where the falconry gauntlet was. They looked each other in the eye and acknowledged this as a random incident. Then he left continuing his search for breakfast.
Abby's eyes lit up upon being presented the bowl. "Th-thank you," she managed, bowing her head. Taking the provided spoon, she began to eat. Snowy, perhaps feeling left out, pressed his snout against Abby's side. "Snowy, no begging," Abby whispered, reaching down to scratch the back of his head. "I'll get you something after." Lash stood tall close by, perhaps proud she hadn't been the object of scolding.
Abby blushed at being acknowledged, seeming to bury her head even deeper into her stew.
Setting her spoon down in the half-finished stew, Abby seemed lost in thought, her gaze rising up towards the sky as if her answer were there if she could only spot it. After a long moment, she spoke, "I've, uh, taken to living nearby, in the forest. It, uh... it seemed nice here." She started to smile, but panic washed over her. "Oh, but it still seems nice here. Ididn'tmeantoimplythatitnolongerseemednice. Itseemednicebefore,anditseemsnicestill," she hastily clarified, hands held up just below her face. Her piece spoken, she seemed frozen in place, except for the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, waiting silently for the judgment of her conversation partners.
roll + CHA + circumstance (see note)
Elduin tastes the film coating the inside of the flak and even that little bit number his whole mouth. Poison, he deduces. The hunter had been trying to incapacitate him.
When Garen reaches the village proper, most of the citizens are still at Grandma Cookies breakfast table. He asks around for information on the caravan, but no one tells him anything new. They haven’t come and the merchants haven’t sent word. Garen knows about the recent surge in banditry up north, but even knowing that, to go this long without a caravan is unusual.
Suddenly, Alman, an overly eager daredevil barely out of his teen years runs into Grandma Cookie’s lodge. The Shadow! The saw the forest shadow! It just attacked me in the woods.
Mama's face drops. What was Alman up to now? Hush now, Alman! Talk slower! That forest is full of shadows. Every tree and twig casts one! Don't tell me you've gone all groundhog on me and jumped at your own shadow now!
"Not alone, you wont." Cerise said. She wasn't exactly quick to leap to action. She lifted her bowl and took a long pull of her soup before setting it down, wiping her mouth and standing. She had the same approach to the idea of danger as carpenters did to fixing a roof.
The moment of panic passed as everyone was distracted by the appearance of Alman. Abby closed her eyes and focused on taking a couple of full, deep breaths, ignoring the chaos around her. When her breathing was under control again, she dropped a silver in Mama Cookie's jar, and then quietly slid out of her stool.
"I-" she started, but stopped as someone else had started speaking at the same time.
She opened her mouth again, but once more held off, struggling to find a place to interject into the discussion without talking over someone else.
"I-if it's in the forest, I can help!" she blurted the moment Cerise was finished speaking, a little off tempo with the rest of the conversation. She offered a nervous smile.
Alman grimaces from Garen’s smack. I found it in the northern woods. You should be able to find my tracks from when I ran away.
Grandma Cookie is already back to serving people.
"Cerise," the short woman in the armor said.
"I'm Abby," the young gnome trailing a bit behind the others introduced herself with a small wave and a smile that lacked confidence. "And these are Lash and Snowy." She nodded first to the white and blue raptor on her right, and then to the brown and green raptor on her left. "Oh, I mean, uh, this one is Lash, and this one is Snowy," she corrected, indicating the opposite this time.
Mama Cookie assumed he cut his shoulder jumping from a barn or something. If youall actually come back with someone she'll be quite shocked!
Abbicka is able to find the the tracks with just a bit of searching. The grass has been kicked up and twigs broken where his racing feet trampled the ground. Spots of blood further mark it as Alman's path. Using trail of stomped leaves and blood, she leads you into the forest.
Just away from the trail, Cerise sees a crossbow laying in some bushes. Despite its perfect working condition, it seems to have been discarded in haste.
"Someone was in a hurry," Cerise said, walking over near the crossbow on the ground. She didn't pick it up. Instead she scanned for motion, and then for tracks.