A large city, seemingly in ruin, stands before you. The stronghold of Alhurst, the center of the Barony of Hangrim, is a gray fortress wreathed by stirring fog from the sea, and its crumbling masonry blanketed by furry moss, its soaring towers and parapets choked by black ivy against overcast sky the color of slate. And of its sprawling streets and high-steepled buildings that can be seen from beyond the walls, nothing stirs. Whenever it was that you arrived you still remain at the gates up until the present, the city being apparently deserted.
Something is definitely amiss. The letter you received from Baron Hyle, offering employ in his castle had promised that Alhurst was a gem of the kingdom, a port of trade and situated next to major roads passing from the capital to Doromn. But while that was true over a decade ago, no ships sailed to Alhurst any longer and the roads that passed by it were now defunct, the King having chosen to lay down new roads that bypassed the territory of Hangrim altogether. This each of you discovered almost at the end of your journey, expecting to take a week to arrive but, having to traverse through the forest-overgrown road, instead spending well over a month. The chilly northern weather and constant drizzle has made the travel particularly miserable, but more than anything, not seeing a living soul except for one another anywhere in the barony much less at Alhurst has left you with a sinking feeling.
That is, until a quavering shout comes suddenly from the top of the wall:
“Who goes there? What do you strangers want of Alhurst?”
I'll always have her updated spell list on her page in the "conditions and effects" section of her sheet.
Shal is constantly in the "Hearing the Air" Diamond Mind stance, which gives her blindsense out to 30 ft. I'll post when she changes it up, which isn't often.
The dark elven woman pulls back the hood of her silver cloak and clothing, designed to give her plenty of range of motion and freedom of movment. Beneath the hood is a beautiful face with one eyebrow raised over her intelligent silver eyes.
This is already looking like a bad situation. Ruins are never good, in her experience. Especially ones she's been lured to under false pretenses.
Still, if it was an ambush of some type, it was unlikely they would reveal their presence with a shout. Might as well find out why she is there before she runs.
She reaches into her pack, pulling out the letter she recieved more than a month ago.
"This letter was delivered to me," she says politely. She hopes she doesn't need to explain it further.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
"Letters?!" The voice cried querulously; "Well, that's a start. Maybe someone did send letters out. But it proves nothing. How do we know that you're alive?"
His voice climbs in fearful pitch with each successive word.
Remaining silent, Baendurn draws his enormous sword deftly, removes the gauntlet on the alternate hand, and runs the blade anong the back of his hand, turning to allow the blood to drip to the ground and gleam off of the blade. He then turns his gaze to the sentry, as if to answer his question of mortality.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
Orell steps up behind the group that is forming along the wall, glances to his side at the pretty dark elf and the silent warrior. Then he turns his gaze, squinting, up to the wall.
"This place is supposed to be under Pelor's protection? Ylina is right to disdain of him." Vraid comments from somewhere in the back of Orell's mind.
The man fidgets slightly, the wolf pelt he wrapped around the shoulders of his cloak a few days ago to help fight the cold was not comfortable. He reaches to his bag, and finds the handle to the same knife he used to skin the beast sitting exactly atop the collection of gear.
Orell pulls the blade from its case, and runs it across his palm as well.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'll bet you wish you had a non-unglued/unhinged card that shared your first name.
Shal's brow furrows. This just gets worse and worse. Something outside the walls is making these guards practically wet themselves. Standing out here shouting suddenly seems like a very stupid idea.
Sheathing her dagger on her belt, Shal begins walking briskly forward, glancing over her shoulder and hoping she doesn't see anything horrible charging at them.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
Orell wipes his knife on the wolf pelt - there isn't a lot of blood to remove, and the pelt isn't especially clean regardless - and replaces it in his satchel as the gates begin to open. At least these guards are fairly normal, he thinks as he starts forward, being afraid of the unknown is fairly common.
Coming to a different conclusion, as usual, Vraid comments, "They clearly know nothing of their foe, and yet they assume they are safe merely at the sight of blood. Some mortals are endlessly foolish."
They are safe from us, Orell sighs, though Vraid cannot read his thoughts. He sees the elf is pulling away from him, so he picks up the pace to stay two strides behind her.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'll bet you wish you had a non-unglued/unhinged card that shared your first name.
Baendurn wipes his hand on his cloak, then returns his gauntlet and sheathes Bautugothat. Nodding, he strides forward and past the gates. His right hand rests on the slightly protruding handle of a folded war-fan.
As you walk through the gate, a deep, unsettling feeling of dread seeps into your bones.
The gates close behind you, and the two guards run down from their posts. Both appear to be old enough to be thinking about hanging up their armor and retiring. One has rather wide eyes and a perpetually stunned expression, the other who seems to be the one who was speaking, constantly quivers and looks around like a nervous rodent. The lines of his form themselves do not seem steady but instead undulate in tune to his quivering.
People can be seen walking about in the gray drizzle, as though everything was perfectly normal and Alhurst had not been completely barren just moments before. Their clothes are faded and worn, their faces haggard or sometimes just blank. Everyone seems to look a bit gray, even if young or wearing what were once bright colors.
"What's this letter you speak of?" The nervous guard asks with pronounced twitches.
Shal looks around, eyes narrowed as she tries to shake off the terrible feeling. These people look... strange. Emotionless expressions, seemingly not noticing the state of the city. Shal quickly thinks up several scenarios for what could be cauing this.
A trap, with all these people as inhuman ambushers not used to showing humanoid emotion? Mind control, with some kind of monster keeping these people as thralls under enchantment. Mass insanity, a disease causing everyone to lose their wits. She calmly supresses her body's attempt to shake and clamps down on wild speculation, and looks at the guard with a tilted head.
She reaches into her robes, as though to produce the letter again. Instead, she produces her dagger and presents it to the guard, hilt-first.
"We've proven to you that we're not dead," she says in a neutral tone. "Surely you wouldn't mind proving the same to us?"
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
The guard gives a thin, nervous laugh as he draws blood from his gnarled hand. It drips wetly down his thick, yellowed fingernails. He passes it to his mute companion who does the same.
Shal takes back her dagger and gives the guard a nod. Fair enough. If it's good enough for the guards, it is only polite that it is good enough for her. Still, something is certainly wrong. Best get to the bottom of it. Talking to the baron who sent out the letters seems like a good start.
Shal produces the letter. She grips it firmly as she holds it up for the guards to read. "I'd like to speak with the one who sent this," she says as she holds the letter up. "I'm going to hold onto it until then."
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
"The Baron..." The guard says doubtfully. His mute companion's eyes grow larger than seems possible as he cringes.
“The castle is out that way,” The twitching guard said, pointing to the west with a brief wave of his arm. He scarcely needs to point it out; the sprawling castle complex of buttressed, black stone takes up most of the city.
Shal's interest is piqued at the men's reaction.
She looks at the two guards, studying them with a tilted head. To the quiet one, she says "That's certainly an interesting reaction at the mention of the Baron. Now why would speaking about him make you flinch?"
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
The guard coughs, and elbows his mute companion in the side.
"Things just haven't been the same since the good Baroness Diotima passed," He muttered softly; "We don't see much of her son these days. And then all word from the King was cut off. No one knows why."
Baendurn simply gives a "harumph," and starts walking in the direction of the castle, sensing that there is little to be gained by standing with two men with barely the nerves to speak straight.
Shal gives the human's back an annoyed look as he walks toward the castle. Apparently he doesn't know about "Knowledge is power". The more information you can gather before you go into a situation, the better equipped you are to handle it.
But there's no need to call him an idiot until he does something blatantly stupid, Shal thinks. Still, might as well let him know how I usually prefer to operate for future reference.
Shal nods to the guards and walks after Baendurn. She walks slightly behind him and to his left after she catches up to him. "You could have helped me question them," Shal says quietly. "Something is obviously wrong here. We might have figured out what it is before we end up walking into a trap."
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
"If there's one thing I've learned," says Baendurn, in a muted voice, "it is to never trust a man who radiates confidence, but also do not trust the man so cowardly that his voice trembles."
He turns his head to see if the others are coming along. "They are weak. The weak are manipulated; that is the natural order. I will not risk preconceptions gained from a weak man under the grip of another."
Bonus Reserve Experience:
Caex: 100, for roleplay and interaction with NPCs
Talore: 75, for roleplay and clever solution
KK: 75, for roleplay
I'm stalling a bit for Id_Ego, but this is right about the point where he needs to hurry up and finish or join the party separately.
The streets of Alhurst wind and twist around in a maze-like fashion, and the people have begun a strange procession. A priest at the head of the line bears a statue (apparently representing Pelor), flanked by two acolytes bearing incense. As they move forward to the west, the statue becomes covered by a veil and the people begin to wail and keen in despair. Then, moving in a circle, as they reach the eastern quadrant of the procession the veil comes off and the people begin to sing a hymn to Pelor, celebrating his birth and salvation of the world. As they proceed to the south, they put on bestial masks and begin to writhe in smoky, distorted shapes against the surreal, bleak landscape. Then the veil is applied again and the cycle repeats over and over again.
Shal studies Baendurn. That's the kind of world-view that leads to tyranny and oppression. How could anyone think that way? It's seems so... wrong. Arguing at a time like this won't gain anything other than distraction in this obviously strange situation. A diplomatic answer will have to do. "All information carries preconceptions, no matter who gives it. Weak or strong, we all pepper our version of the story with what we believe to be true."
Shal falls back from Baedurn, thinking over the human's beliefs. Dangerous. Very dangerous. Men like that see everyone else as tools to be used and then discarded. He'll kill anyone who stands in his way. I'll have to keep my eye on him.
When Shal spots the strange ritual, she stops momentarily, blinking. How strange...
History check to find out if this ritual has any historical significance or if it's a more recent or regional custom.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
Uninterested in philisophical debate, Baendurn opts not to speak but for a noncomittal grunt, turning his attention towards the display. The only truth I need is the truth that has kept me alive, he thought to himself. Let the foolish speculate while the wise act, and see who is more fit to thrive.
I'm glad everyone is taking such a... liking to my character. He's just meant to be a hard bastard more than anything else. Sso domincance complexes, murder complexes or otherwise. He should fit well enough in an adventuring group and doesn't mind doing good deeds, he is just interested in pay/experience rather than benevolence. It's the fiendish grafts that make him nasty, they're only satisfied if he is sufficiently uncaring and immoral. He won't be one to crusade in the name of evil.
Something is definitely amiss. The letter you received from Baron Hyle, offering employ in his castle had promised that Alhurst was a gem of the kingdom, a port of trade and situated next to major roads passing from the capital to Doromn. But while that was true over a decade ago, no ships sailed to Alhurst any longer and the roads that passed by it were now defunct, the King having chosen to lay down new roads that bypassed the territory of Hangrim altogether. This each of you discovered almost at the end of your journey, expecting to take a week to arrive but, having to traverse through the forest-overgrown road, instead spending well over a month. The chilly northern weather and constant drizzle has made the travel particularly miserable, but more than anything, not seeing a living soul except for one another anywhere in the barony much less at Alhurst has left you with a sinking feeling.
That is, until a quavering shout comes suddenly from the top of the wall:
“Who goes there? What do you strangers want of Alhurst?”
I'll always have her updated spell list on her page in the "conditions and effects" section of her sheet.
Shal is constantly in the "Hearing the Air" Diamond Mind stance, which gives her blindsense out to 30 ft. I'll post when she changes it up, which isn't often.
The dark elven woman pulls back the hood of her silver cloak and clothing, designed to give her plenty of range of motion and freedom of movment. Beneath the hood is a beautiful face with one eyebrow raised over her intelligent silver eyes.
This is already looking like a bad situation. Ruins are never good, in her experience. Especially ones she's been lured to under false pretenses.
Still, if it was an ambush of some type, it was unlikely they would reveal their presence with a shout. Might as well find out why she is there before she runs.
She reaches into her pack, pulling out the letter she recieved more than a month ago.
"This letter was delivered to me," she says politely. She hopes she doesn't need to explain it further.
{Magic: The RPG}
His voice climbs in fearful pitch with each successive word.
Shal draws a dagger from her belt and mimics the human.
"Proof enough?" she asks, still politely.
{Magic: The RPG}
"This place is supposed to be under Pelor's protection? Ylina is right to disdain of him." Vraid comments from somewhere in the back of Orell's mind.
The man fidgets slightly, the wolf pelt he wrapped around the shoulders of his cloak a few days ago to help fight the cold was not comfortable. He reaches to his bag, and finds the handle to the same knife he used to skin the beast sitting exactly atop the collection of gear.
Orell pulls the blade from its case, and runs it across his palm as well.
"I don't know if the dead can bleed or not," The one who speaks says shakily; "But maybe if they can bleed, they can die, too."
After a moment, the gates swing open with a deep, rumbling groan.
"Well, what are you waiting for?!" The sentry yells, almost in a panic.
Sheathing her dagger on her belt, Shal begins walking briskly forward, glancing over her shoulder and hoping she doesn't see anything horrible charging at them.
{Magic: The RPG}
Coming to a different conclusion, as usual, Vraid comments, "They clearly know nothing of their foe, and yet they assume they are safe merely at the sight of blood. Some mortals are endlessly foolish."
They are safe from us, Orell sighs, though Vraid cannot read his thoughts. He sees the elf is pulling away from him, so he picks up the pace to stay two strides behind her.
The gates close behind you, and the two guards run down from their posts. Both appear to be old enough to be thinking about hanging up their armor and retiring. One has rather wide eyes and a perpetually stunned expression, the other who seems to be the one who was speaking, constantly quivers and looks around like a nervous rodent. The lines of his form themselves do not seem steady but instead undulate in tune to his quivering.
People can be seen walking about in the gray drizzle, as though everything was perfectly normal and Alhurst had not been completely barren just moments before. Their clothes are faded and worn, their faces haggard or sometimes just blank. Everyone seems to look a bit gray, even if young or wearing what were once bright colors.
"What's this letter you speak of?" The nervous guard asks with pronounced twitches.
A trap, with all these people as inhuman ambushers not used to showing humanoid emotion? Mind control, with some kind of monster keeping these people as thralls under enchantment. Mass insanity, a disease causing everyone to lose their wits. She calmly supresses her body's attempt to shake and clamps down on wild speculation, and looks at the guard with a tilted head.
She reaches into her robes, as though to produce the letter again. Instead, she produces her dagger and presents it to the guard, hilt-first.
"We've proven to you that we're not dead," she says in a neutral tone. "Surely you wouldn't mind proving the same to us?"
{Magic: The RPG}
Shal produces the letter. She grips it firmly as she holds it up for the guards to read. "I'd like to speak with the one who sent this," she says as she holds the letter up. "I'm going to hold onto it until then."
{Magic: The RPG}
“The castle is out that way,” The twitching guard said, pointing to the west with a brief wave of his arm. He scarcely needs to point it out; the sprawling castle complex of buttressed, black stone takes up most of the city.
She looks at the two guards, studying them with a tilted head. To the quiet one, she says "That's certainly an interesting reaction at the mention of the Baron. Now why would speaking about him make you flinch?"
{Magic: The RPG}
"Things just haven't been the same since the good Baroness Diotima passed," He muttered softly; "We don't see much of her son these days. And then all word from the King was cut off. No one knows why."
But there's no need to call him an idiot until he does something blatantly stupid, Shal thinks. Still, might as well let him know how I usually prefer to operate for future reference.
Shal nods to the guards and walks after Baendurn. She walks slightly behind him and to his left after she catches up to him. "You could have helped me question them," Shal says quietly. "Something is obviously wrong here. We might have figured out what it is before we end up walking into a trap."
{Magic: The RPG}
He turns his head to see if the others are coming along. "They are weak. The weak are manipulated; that is the natural order. I will not risk preconceptions gained from a weak man under the grip of another."
Orell simply walks with the group, saying nothing. He is used to these times when Vraid interjects constantly - it means he is on edge.
The blood from the cut on his hand drips to his fingers, and Orell flicks it to the ground in annoyance.
Bonus Reserve Experience:
Caex: 100, for roleplay and interaction with NPCs
Talore: 75, for roleplay and clever solution
KK: 75, for roleplay
I'm stalling a bit for Id_Ego, but this is right about the point where he needs to hurry up and finish or join the party separately.
The streets of Alhurst wind and twist around in a maze-like fashion, and the people have begun a strange procession. A priest at the head of the line bears a statue (apparently representing Pelor), flanked by two acolytes bearing incense. As they move forward to the west, the statue becomes covered by a veil and the people begin to wail and keen in despair. Then, moving in a circle, as they reach the eastern quadrant of the procession the veil comes off and the people begin to sing a hymn to Pelor, celebrating his birth and salvation of the world. As they proceed to the south, they put on bestial masks and begin to writhe in smoky, distorted shapes against the surreal, bleak landscape. Then the veil is applied again and the cycle repeats over and over again.
Shal falls back from Baedurn, thinking over the human's beliefs. Dangerous. Very dangerous. Men like that see everyone else as tools to be used and then discarded. He'll kill anyone who stands in his way. I'll have to keep my eye on him.
When Shal spots the strange ritual, she stops momentarily, blinking. How strange...
{Magic: The RPG}