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Author Topic: Basketweavers vs. The Sunless Citadel - IC  (Read 12967 times)

Josh

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« Reply #30 on: November 14, 2012, 02:22:21 PM »
Clapping Hasor on the back, Winthrop smiles.  "That's the spirit!  Don't you worry about Keria, she'll come around.  They always do. Now what's this about Talgen?"

Opaopajr

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« Reply #31 on: November 14, 2012, 07:24:22 PM »
"Be good kids, and leave the door open so we can hear you." Cudberct ushers Ysmeina out into the hall. Merewyn comes from the 2nd story supply room into the hall. "Ah good, just in time for dinner. If the guests are well supplied for the night then cleaning up after dinner is the last thing to do before our evening's rest," Cudberct opens his arms while speaking to gather the maids and lead them downstairs in front of him.

Merewyn pauses and asks with temerity, "Can I spend time with the children afterwards? I know you want to keep them from the coming serious discussion in the common room. But Ysmeina might need the time to work on her dowry, and she'll need good light to work by..." Ysmeina stiffens, staring straight ahead down the hall.

Cudberct gently herds the group into walking again, "Of course, Merewyn. You may sort this favor to me as you both please. It's understood you both won't be here forever and need to prepare for your future. However you've become like family and will always have a place at our table, regardless where marriage takes you." "Besides, I know you like to tell stories to the kids, as well," winking knowingly towards Merewyn.

Leaning in with a quieter voice directed to Ysmeina, "And mayhap you'll hear talk of dragging back those Hucrele boys from their extended camping trip." "It's easy to lose track of time when away, as I know too well," dropping a casual lie to reassure. Ysmeina relaxes, smiles wanly, and goes on ahead down the stairs. Cudberct reflects that he's seen that smile all too often on the women left behind, (stupid boys always thinking they're invincible... as I know too well).
Just make your fuckin' guy and roll the dice, you pricks. Focus on what's interesting, not what gives you the biggest randomly generated virtual penis.  -- J Arcane
 
You know, people keep comparing non-TSR D&D to deck-building in Magic: the Gathering. But maybe it's more like Katamari Damacy. You keep sticking shit on your characters until they are big enough to be a star.
-- talysman

Justin Alexander
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« Reply #32 on: November 15, 2012, 06:13:32 PM »
Quote from: Warclam;599747
@DM: Haddon is neither surprised nor phased by the woman's disappointment at finding a gnome where a soldier should stand. "Thank you, I would like that." He follows probably-Kerowyn inside, Ashur following closely. Haddon rests his hand soothingly on Ashur's side, a leftover habit from the wolf's excitable youth.

"I apologize for arriving in such attire; I wished to report in as soon as possible. I am afraid the news which reached me was somewhat lacking in detail. Is there any notion the direction in which the missing persons have gone? My companion Ashur is a skilled tracker, but given the time that has passed a lead would be most helpful."

When they come to the kitchen/sitting room/tea offertory area, a quiet word in the Wildspeech has Ashur lay unthreateningly on the floor.

@Haddon: Kerowyn gestures you to a seat and tries to smile as she pulls the kettle off the iron-wrought stove, but you can see the tension pulled taut around her eyes. "No, I'm glad you've come."

Her hand shakes a bit as she pours. "Unfortunately, I am almost certain of where they've gone: The goblin ravine. A few weeks back a knight rode into town -- brash and proud. Sir Braford. He had another fellow with him. Karakas I think his name was. They talked big and told tall tales and Braford waved around his glowing sword.

"Unfortunately, they arrived just after the goblins stole the latest seed trees. So they heard all about the 'goblin apples' -- magical things that the local goblin tribe brings into town each midsummer. They figured there'd be a profit in it if they could find the tree the goblins are claiming those apples from.

"My son, Talgren and my daughter, Sharwyn, signed up. They've trained in the bloodsworn academies, so they were capable enough of sword and spell. But they had no business... they..." Kerowyn breaks off for a moment. "It's those tales at the inn. They enflame the mind."

She takes a deep drink from her tea. "They signed up for Braford's folly. And they rode off two weeks past to the ravine where everyone says those cursed goblins live."
« Last Edit: November 17, 2012, 02:02:38 AM by Justin Alexander »
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Warclam

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« Reply #33 on: November 15, 2012, 08:02:27 PM »
@Kerowyn: As long as the cup and the chair aren't iron as well…

 "I see." Haddon can see that this rescue may lie outside his skillset. Finding lost humans is a far cry from wresting them from the hands of territorial goblins. Still, whatever their flaws, goblins are not stupid, and these ones do regular business with the townsfolk. They would see the merits in leaving alive errant children, surely? …Possibly?

It's a hope, at least. "And neither of these itinerant warriors has returned either?"

Whatever the answer, Haddon asks for some suitable scent traces of the children. Objects small enough to fit into vials would be ideal, but most such items wouldn't carry a scent. Worst-case, they can be bundled in canvas to protect their scents.

Then it will be about time for Haddon and Ashur to take their leave. "We shall do our utmost to retrieve your children, madam. I have encountered goblins before, and while larcenous and stubborn, they are not inclined to fight when they can hide or chase their foes away." That's usually true, at least.

Still, nothing says 'don't mess with me' like force of arms. This doesn't sound like a job that should be done without backup. The inn would be a sensible place to look, in addition to finally getting that meal he'd promised Ashur. Indeed, if memory serves, the innkeeper here was a formidable warrior in his day.

With that plan in mind, the pair walk past the well to the Old Boar.
« Last Edit: November 15, 2012, 08:03:44 PM by Warclam »

Sir Wulf

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« Reply #34 on: November 16, 2012, 01:15:53 AM »
In The Common Room
A slight bloom had crept over Lady Jastian’s cheeks while she listened to the others’ tales.  Her movements careful and controlled, she poured another half cup of mulled wine and took a cautious sip, savoring the spices’ flavor.  Her speech was also slower, her expression thoughtful, as if the locals’ anecdotes and the spiced drink had summoned forth troubling memories.  The lady rose to her feet, raising her ceramic cup as if she planned a toast.  Her left hand clenched the back of her chair, steadying her as she spoke.  “Should any of Sir Braford’s ill-starred band yet tarry among the living, it would be no kindness to have them bide longer for succor!  Let us venture forth on the morrow, our steeds caparisoned and ready ere dawn’s first light.”

Gazing around the room, she saw enthusiasm on a few faces, but others looked more reserved.  Winthrop’s uneasy reaction particularly caught the noblewoman’s eye.  Jastian’s tone grew more grim, her plea more impassioned.  “Some of you may think me in my cups, a woman driven by whim or caprice.  Others may be afeared that I know naught of the goblin-kindred, or that I would serve my followers ill, leading them into the goblins’ traps like coneys caught in a hunter’s snares.  Banish such unworthy phantasms from your minds!  ‘Tis not I who bargained with the subhuman wretches, bringing woe upon my house!  Know you not that such creatures lack a true soul, hungering only to deceive and steal?  Commerce with such brutes can only bode ill!

“I am the Wyverntongue, and I have not yet met the one who could master me!  Of a surety, no goblin ever shall!  Familiar am I with the treacheries of goblin-kind, for I have studied their ways and even mastered their uncouth tongue.  If  it is fitting that I do so, I may treat with the wretched creatures, but ‘tis more like that fire and sword shall purge them from their hidden lairs.  Let you of stout heart venture forth with me, discovering what we may of Sir Braford’s fate.  If ‘tis as dark as I fear, may the gods grant that we bring justice to those who wronged him.”  Raising her cup, the lady saluted the others in the chamber, then gulped down the remaining wine.  

Turning toward the stairs, Lady Jastian’s measured steps were almost steady.  “We ride at dawn!” she intoned as she mounted the narrow stairway.  
« Last Edit: November 16, 2012, 03:08:56 PM by Sir Wulf »

Opaopajr

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« Reply #35 on: November 16, 2012, 09:51:53 AM »
Arriving with maids in tow to the last scene Cudberct wanted, he stares discouraged at his noble guest's speech filled with bravado. Ysmeina starts to shake from suppressed sobs at "ill-starred band yet tarry among the living..." that he gently guides the poor lass to a quieter corner as he pushes Merewyn to help his wife. Standing between her and the rest of the room so as to maintain the maid's grief in private, he thinks (Not again! We don't need another hero.)

But now was not the time to insult a well-intentioned guest in the throws of virtue. Besides, having voiced the worst is likely no greater than Ysmeina's self-torturing imagination. It's still insensitive, however one cannot fault a newcomer's blasé assessment; Lady Jastian may not know but means well. Besides, a proprietor gets used to the vicissitude of guests.

And yet... she knows goblin language? And a veteran of their tactics? Useful if true. The cavalier attitude and preaching will likely be risky. And it'd possibly spoil peaceful goblin negotiations if Sir Braford's band still live. Honestly, being captured by ravine goblins and negotiating ransom would be a blessing compared to the other dangers in that ravine -- a hope best not dwelt upon.

Crap, she's ending her speech and off to bed! I admit something must be done, but at least have an evening to discuss logistics and tactics. Whatever, the wine likely made planning tonight with her off the table. *sigh* That leaves me, Dern Nacre, and Sgt Llewellyn to tidy up her impetuousness.
Those made the shortest-lived leaders, and if truly careless troops as well, in Cudberct's experience. Yet she still lives, so perhaps...

And now I'm left consoling a heartbroken girl after being chastised by a stranger for us buying life-saving fruit from the "impure and unwashed." This'll be a disaster without a few more level heads. Where the hell are those two? Giving Ysmeina a moment to compose herself, Cudberct and her joins the evening meal with noticeable weight upon their mind.
« Last Edit: November 16, 2012, 10:00:02 AM by Opaopajr »
Just make your fuckin' guy and roll the dice, you pricks. Focus on what's interesting, not what gives you the biggest randomly generated virtual penis.  -- J Arcane
 
You know, people keep comparing non-TSR D&D to deck-building in Magic: the Gathering. But maybe it's more like Katamari Damacy. You keep sticking shit on your characters until they are big enough to be a star.
-- talysman

Warclam

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« Reply #36 on: November 16, 2012, 11:10:38 AM »
While Haddon is no friend of the ravine goblins, arriving at the inn to seek aid for a rescue mission only to hear through the door a stranger raving about "soulless subhuman wretches" rather touches a nerve. His annoyance grows to anger when he pushes open the door and sees the discomfort and sorrow of so many at the callous stranger's words, who strides cavalierly away to enjoy the comforts of the town she's just finished verbally striking down.

Ashur tense at his side, he calls testily to the retreating woman, "It's lucky there are no inhuman wretches here now. Indeed, what audacity the townsfolk show, buying lifesaving magic from people who have risen above the stereotypes of their race to engage in civilized trade. Such a marvel for 'soulless' creatures!"

Haddon then pointedly ignores the noblewoman and turns to Cudberct. Fighting to keep his tone in check, he says, "I am here for a rescue mission, to find the Hucrele children and return them to Oakhurst. I had hoped there would be some here who could aid me in this endeavour. I have had dealing with these goblins, and it is unlike them to kill when they need not. You may not remember me, sir, but could you," turning to the room at large, he adds "or anyone, lend some aid in bringing them home safely?"


OOC: Sorry about this, but Lady Jastian was SO asking for it. Not trying to split the party before it even forms, here, I promise.

Josh

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« Reply #37 on: November 16, 2012, 02:56:14 PM »
Winthrop looks from face to face uneasily.  He easily recognizes Cudberct's concealed unrest, bordering on anger - he's seen it before in their years of friendship.  The Lady's bold proclamation, and the arrival of the stranger, have resulted in a room with a considerably darker mood than moments before. Rising to his feet, he makes a placating gesture toward the gnome.

In hurried, only slightly broken gnomish, he says "The good lady has been on a hard quest, and nears the end of it. She has had perhaps a bit too much to drink, but her heart is in the right place."

Switching back to english, he raises his voice slightly, so the whole room can hear him.  "You are in luck, an expedition is already being readied to rescue the erstwhile youngsters.  We were just waiting on the local head of the guard before we finalized our plans."  He turns to the obviously distraught girls, winks, and says "But have no fear, they will return alive and unharmed.  Why it's just like the time we had to save two young lads who were kidnapped by wyvern-riding bandits..."


OOC: Winthrop would like to attempt to cheer up the distraught and calm the room down by telling a (probably wildly fabricated) story about some heroic mission that he may or may not have been a part of, which resulted in the villains being slain, and the kidnappees returning entirely unharmed.  I'm not sure if you would like a Perform check or not.  If a check is required, on a failure I think it would be most excellent if my story has the opposite effect, demoralizing those listening, al a Order of the Stick Elan's motivational speeches.

Opaopajr

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« Reply #38 on: November 16, 2012, 06:37:31 PM »
In the middle of taking to his chair Cudberct freezes upon the synchronicity of the scenes. The gnome tracker Haddon arriving at such a time, and on a mission similar? It is too much, obviously the fates have spoken. A soldier who survives knows when he's a pawn of greater powers, mortal and not.

Resign, and a bit relieved, that the choice is out of his hands he straightens to greet the new guest. "Haddon, your memory still remains among our humble town. Welcome, enjoy our fire, and if you have any requests don't hesitate to ask." Cudberct moves an empty smaller seat towards the fire for his new visitor.

Returning to the meal table, "Forgive me if I take a moment to eat with my work family. It's been a long day and they must be hungry. We'll be ready to serve afterwards." Perking up Cudberct adds, "My hound Patita and steed Buñuelo are much older now, no longer pup or colt, but they must remember a friend like you, Haddon. They are in the stable currently, along with several new faces, if you find yourself in the mood to meet old acquaintances."

Now that the stars command we must go forth, might as well relax and flow with the coming chaos of battle. All that is left to add is the return of a few more tacticians, a half-decent plan, and a little luck and maybe we all might return alive. Thankfully Ermengilda has been through this madness before; she'll man the fort, er, inn while we're away.

OOC: I like this. Sir Wulf floored the gas pedal and things get interesting. As long as we all don't run headlong into certain death, it's been fun.
Just make your fuckin' guy and roll the dice, you pricks. Focus on what's interesting, not what gives you the biggest randomly generated virtual penis.  -- J Arcane
 
You know, people keep comparing non-TSR D&D to deck-building in Magic: the Gathering. But maybe it's more like Katamari Damacy. You keep sticking shit on your characters until they are big enough to be a star.
-- talysman

Warclam

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« Reply #39 on: November 17, 2012, 12:04:12 AM »
Haddon is relieved that his outburst apparently didn't result in anything worse than his own embarrassment. Is was exactly that sort of impulse that got him removed from his post as a guard in Wheathill 7 years back. He had been tired of that job, but has only just returned to Oakhurst!

He offers a quiet word of thanks in Gnomish to Winthrop, respecting the man's desire to not make a scene.

To Cudberct, he replies, "Of course, I should not wish to keep you and yours from your meal. We have, after all, arrived rather late. I shall make sure to see Patita and Buñuelo again after these years, though I would like to get Ashur," gesturing as he says the name, "situated first. He has not inherited his mother's way with horses, and I should not wish to unnerve them. I imagine you remember Mala's– but I am keeping you. Thank you, a warm fire is just what we need."

After a brief argument with Ashur about the prolonged lack of food, Haddon gets the wolf settled and quietly begins unburdening them both of their armour and baggage, listening to Winthrop's tale as he does so.

Justin Alexander
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« Reply #40 on: November 17, 2012, 02:09:43 AM »
Quote from: Warclam;600253
It's a hope, at least. "And neither of these itinerant warriors has returned either?"


Kerowyn shakes her head. "Everyone fears the worst. I fear the worst."

Quote from: Warclam;600253
Whatever the answer, Haddon asks for some suitable scent traces of the children. Objects small enough to fit into vials would be ideal, but most such items wouldn't carry a scent. Worst-case, they can be bundled in canvas to protect their scents.


Kerowyn gives you a pair of scarves made from amaranthine silk, one worked in ruby thread and the other in emerald. "They wore these nearly every day. Left them behind because they didn't want to spoil them. Nothing'll bear their scent so clearly."

Quote from: Warclam;600253
Then it will be about time for Haddon and Ashur to take their leave. "We shall do our utmost to retrieve your children, madam. I have encountered goblins before, and while larcenous and stubborn, they are not inclined to fight when they can hide or chase their foes away." That's usually true, at least.


Although she's clearly in pain, you can see the keen business sense you've come to expect from the bloodsworn assert itself. She confirms your contract: 250 gp for each of her children alive; half that if you can at least return their signet ring.

And then she does something unexpected: She extends the same reward to anyone you can convince to go with you. This wasn't part of the contract. She's offering it from her own pocket. "If they're not inclined to fight, then chase them down. And bring back my kin."
Note: this sig cut for personal slander and harassment by a lying tool who has been engaging in stalking me all over social media with filthy lies - RPGPundit

Justin Alexander
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« Reply #41 on: November 17, 2012, 02:24:27 AM »
Quote from: josh;600400
ooc: Winthrop would like to attempt to cheer up the distraught and calm the room down by telling a (probably wildly fabricated) story about some heroic mission that he may or may not have been a part of, which resulted in the villains being slain, and the kidnappees returning entirely unharmed.

PERFORM CHECK = 11

OOC: With the outstanding circumstances, that's a complete face-plant of a failure as far as the girls are concerned. The rest of the room is largely unimpressed. Run with that as you will.
« Last Edit: November 17, 2012, 03:43:18 AM by Justin Alexander »
Note: this sig cut for personal slander and harassment by a lying tool who has been engaging in stalking me all over social media with filthy lies - RPGPundit

Josh

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« Reply #42 on: November 17, 2012, 10:19:44 AM »
Quote from: Justin Alexander;600524
PERFORM CHECK = 11

OOC: With the outstanding circumstances, that's a complete face-plant of a failure as far as the girls are concerned. The rest of the room is largely unimpressed. Run with that as you will.


OOC: Hurray!

Winthrop's tale is rambing, and more than a little confusing.  At first, he appears to be telling a story of his own adventures, speaking of a daring mission where he, Kerowyn Hucrele, and a wizened wizard named Randall set forth to rescue two young lovers from the Windstinger Gang.  It soon becomes apparent that he is obviously confusing parts of the story with the epic Tragedy of Darien and Julianne, especially around the point that Kerowyn Hucrele (known by the town to be quite alive) dies from a horrific infection obtained from a werebadger bite.

"...as Randall revealed himself to be the scion of Rthelyaptiocth, his true power came over him, washing over the doomed companions. Darien, who looked full upon Randalythca's horrible visage, cried out in madness, releasing his hold on the cliff. He plummetted down into the black waters of the lake, where his body was devoured by Locathah."

"Seeing the love of her life fall, Julianne drew forth at last Hatedrinker, her blessed blade of holiness, and plunged it into the cackling wizard's chest, screaming her anguish, loss, and devotion to Darien as she did.  The resulting clash of forces shook the mountain, buried the Blood Lake, and sent the wyvern riders to the north, from whence they have yet to return."

Withrop nods in satisfaction.  He glances around at the common room, who sit facing him in stunned silence, which is broken only by the muffled sobs of the two girls racing up the stairs.  He looks confusedly at Cudberct.  Then he spies the food, and grabs a biscuit, munching happily.


OOC: Cudberct, hope you don't mind me briefly dictating the girl's actions.  It seemed appropriate.

Opaopajr

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« Reply #43 on: November 18, 2012, 12:14:08 AM »
Ermengilda blinks a few times, smiles wryly while standing, and reaches for both maids' plates, "Why that was a most moving story Don Winthrop. Forgive our maids as they are still young at heart and such storytelling may leave a deep impression." She moves to place the plates back on the credenza (sill) open to the kitchen and covers them with clean kitchen towels.

Returning with another place setting Cudberct's wife continues, "Forgive my husband's rudeness Señor Haddon, we normally welcome our honored guests with offers of food at least, particularly those we haven't seen in so long. Since we have invited Doña Nacre to join our meal, and as we've been so blessed with your rare presence, it would be an honor for you to join as well. I simply cannot let you refuse."

Placing the new setting next to the empty one at the table, Ermengilda takes this opportunity to discreetly move the basket of biscuits closer to Mr. Winthrop's seat. (The man is obviously hungry for home comforts. Alone in his hills, he must miss the warmth of a lively hearth. I must remember to remind Cudberct to invite him over for a meal another day.)

Turning to return to her seat, conveniently near the kitchen entrance as if planned, she pauses, "Señor Haddon, what can we do for your companion Ashur? Ah, we have chicken and pork scraps for soup tomorrow. I shall go add potato and egg to it and cook up your friend a quick mejunje (big ol' mess, mix of ingredients). It will be no problem at all." She proceeds to the kitchen with determination.

OOC: Thanks for asking Josh, but it's no problem at all. These are all NPCs, and if we're very unlucky, our replacements. As long as the spirit of their behavior seems true, and they aren't used as metagame fodder, I'm fine.
« Last Edit: November 18, 2012, 12:16:20 AM by Opaopajr »
Just make your fuckin' guy and roll the dice, you pricks. Focus on what's interesting, not what gives you the biggest randomly generated virtual penis.  -- J Arcane
 
You know, people keep comparing non-TSR D&D to deck-building in Magic: the Gathering. But maybe it's more like Katamari Damacy. You keep sticking shit on your characters until they are big enough to be a star.
-- talysman

Warclam

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« Reply #44 on: November 20, 2012, 12:15:26 AM »
Haddon listens with growing bafflement to Winthrop's story. Could the current Kerowyn Hucrele be this one's daughter, perhaps? No, that doesn't sound right… Why have Winthrop himself, and his wizard companion, seemingly vanished from the story? Who are these characters introduced partway through, and why do their names sound familiar?

Is every guest at the inn already drunk?

He is taken from his reverie by Ermengilda's voice. Belatedly, for she has already begun placing the setting, he manages to say "I would be honoured my lady, thank you." Haddon has never quite understood human titles (or age), and commonly refers to any human female at least twice his height as 'my lady'.

He rapidly gathers the leather plates and lamellae and stuffs them into a sack and then into Ashur's saddlebags. Ashur himself shows a marked reluctance to leave the fire, but is immensely cheered by the promise of a meal. He emits the frendliest noise he is capable of, a sort of short crooning howl, and takes the saddlebags in his mouth.

Haddon laughs. "And Ashur is most grateful as well. We traveled long and hard on the last of the roads to make Oakhurst before nightfall, and I suppose now we are feeling it." In a maneuver born of long practice, he hops onto the (to him) high-seated chair and sits on his ankles to get enough height to rise comfortably over the tabletop and stirs his sleepy mind toward proper conversation.

Sorry about the delay, for some reason I had a terrible time producing suitable dialogue. Haddon's charisma, alas, is much higher than my own.