Into The Valley

[Paladin]

"Farewell, good sir," Arawn calls and tips his spear toward the friendly herder. He ponders the idea of such a young lady, barely out of childhood, shouldering a lance and riding into the unknown. She must be something, indeed. Strong-willed and sharp. A man could do worse than serve such a lady.

"I'm for Freystone," he says decisively.

[VonAlric]

Warwick

"As long as we don't stick out in this place, I'm good with it. I'd rather keep to the background, suits my style as it were." He picks up his stuff and heads onto Freystone with the group, keeping an eye out for possible places to hide in the future, should need arise.

[Urson]

Rockwell
In case it wasn't clear

Rockwell unslings his axe and carries it casually balanced on his shoulder as he walks with the others toward the village. He whistles something vaguely martial-sounding as they go.

[dice_monkey]

I’m actually at work, doing this during slow times. I’ll be doing some posts in snippets until I’m off later tonight unless I’m roped into OT.

The party sets off, each with their own thoughts or sharing them with each other as they digest the news Oswil has given them.

Wilderness Encounter Roll: [1d6] = 4

The day’s march was uneventful and with the sinking sun, the party finds a spot off the Olde Road near a bubbling brook.

Nightime Wilderness Encounter:[1d6] = 6

The night goes by peacefully as the party sleeps under a clear and bright starry sky. Striking camp you are merrily off again and the rolling hills and small forests give way to flat arable fields and small copses.

Wilderness Encounter Roll:[1d6] = 4

Soon you pass cattle grazing in pastures and farmers tilling their fields for the Spring sowing. As the sun begins to set, those with good eyes can spot the village of what has to be Freystone in the distance. There’s a palisade of tall stout timbers beyond the cluster of houses that make up the village. Another circle of timbers sit on a tiny island in the middle of the Black Rush River, inside of which rises an unfinished tower of stone. The tower is covered with scaffolding yet the tradesmen are gone, done for the day.

Arriving at the massive gates that marks the entrance through the palisades, there is a door set into one of the gates. The gates are closed and it is dark now.

Actions?

[dice_monkey]

Freystone



The image of Freystone in my head was different than the pic I had saved. Go with the pic and keep in mind this is only a visual interpretation of Freystone. Some things are bigger or smaller than what you see.

The party has arrived at the western gate.

[Antman9]

Okot Lichenwind (Elf, Fighter)

Okot rubs his arm reflexively in contemplation. "Shall we test our luck and rap on the door? I should not like to camp outside the gates as we know not what lurks in the darkness in these parts, nor how the village might greet any encampment we make in the morning. What are your thoughts?

If there is no dissent from the others, Okot shall give a hearty knock on the door, otherwise he shall abide popular vote.

[Urson]

Rockwell
Rockwell has already hefted his axe, and is preparing to knock with the butt of the haft. He stops, waiting for a consensus.

[Paladin]

Arawn nods. "Seems the polite thing to do." He'll wait patiently and in plain view.

[kalstone]

Angus

"Aye! Let's get inside where we can warm ourselves by a hot fire and a tall glass of ale. I don't think my old bones can take another night outdoors."

[VonAlric]

Warwick

"By all means, let's see if anyone will let us in. Sleeping against the walls is not the thing I want to do this night."

[Antman9]

Okot Lichenwind (Elf, Fighter)

Okot nods to Rockwell, Rap away my friend. Let us determine the nature of their friendliness in these parts.

[Urson]

Rocky
The Dwarf knocks on the door with the butt of his axe. boom boom Hello the town! We're cold and thirsty, and we come in peace!

[dice_monkey]

Rocky
The Dwarf knocks on the door with the butt of his axe. boom boom Hello the town! We're cold and thirsty, and we come in peace!

From behind the door you can hear a muffled voice. "What? Blast it, dropped me drink! Whozzit? Who's out there? The bloody gate closes at dusk!"

There's the sound of a latch being slid back and the top half of the door swings back revealing an old man, stooped and possessing quite the hooked nose. He's holding up a lantern, it's light bathing all of you as he squints, eyeballing each of you in turn. "Ye be armed but ye don' look like bandits out to raid Freystone at night. O' course the Red Stockings ain't got the two balls to put together to try such a thing. I reckon ye be here fer the Brass Flagon, if nothing else. Hand over yer arms. You can wear swords but they must be peace knotted. If you draw steel without a damn good reason, well then Pelor show mercy on your soul fer you'll hang at dawn from the top o' Freystone Tower. Come on now, I haven't got all night to tend to you all!"

Once your weapons are handed over, the old man goes back to his little covered area and his jug of corn liquor. There's only a few building inside the palisade as you make your way along the well rutted and traveled pathway that runs west to east. There are lamp posts here and there along the way, illuminating what appears to be a smithy (interestingly enough the sign is written in both Common and Dwarven), a mercantile/outfitter store, a chapel devoted to Pelor, and the Brass Flagon. Arriving at the inn, the party notes the sign above it's door; a flagon made of brass with a foamy head overflowing down one side. The inn has a courtyard with a connecting stable and what's curious is that the inn is made of handsome stone and thick beams of wood...mute testament to the building's age. Laughter erupts from within over the din of voices and music.

Stepping inside one is greeted by a giant roaring hearth of stone with a roasting carcass of wild pig, its dripping fat splattering and hissing in the flames. Men of all types sit at the trestles drinking and talking lively while serving girls cradle flagons and steins along with food deftly navigate the inn proper, their bosoms threatening to spill out of low cut blouses (St. Pauli girls anyone?). From behind the bar a tall fearsome man with a muttonchop beard and walrus moustache rules his inn. Off in one corner there is a game of dice and you hear a loud peal of laughter; a full throated young woman's laugh, unrestrained and full of wild mirth. A young lady sits at the same table, her hand pounding the table, her cheeks red as the others join her laughter in a chorus. She's wearing a cloak and the hood hides her hair save for a few errant red tresses. Standing solemnly behind her are two very large men, their cloaks doing little to hide the armor and arms underneath.

Suddenly the man behind the bar approaches you, his face friendly. "Visitors! Welcome to the Brass Flagon, my humble inn in the middle of the valley. Please take a seat, we have room at the tables for a few more and beds for those wishing to spend the night indoors. One of my girls will be around to serve you. I have clay pipes and some good halfling weed for those so inclined. Ach, my work is never done...I must tend the bar. Guibart is my name, sirs. Call me if any of you need anything."

[Urson]

Rockwell
Rockwell scowls when the old man demands his axe. I'd sooner give you my britches! I don't want to be in a strange town, unarmed! With much grumbling and argument, he finally surrenders his weapon. He's cranky and contrary, but NOT stupid enough to let it escalate to violence.
When they are greeted by the Innkeeper, Rocky nods and smiles. He'll find a seat at a table large enough for them all, and settle there. He looks around the room, taking in the mix of folks there.
Tall, smooth-faced women are nice- but where's a dwarf-maid with gems braided in her beard? he grumbles.

[Paladin]

Arawn smiles at the crotchety gent. "Our pardon for coming late." He struggles to mask his amusement at the old gatekeeper's tongue-lashing and hands his spear over. "If I peace-knot my hand-axe, will that pass muster?"

If his half-joking request is denied, he'll pass his axe over with a good-natured chuckle and head inside the walls. The brawny warrior eyes the defenses as they progress, counting men at arms and measuring walls. But his attention is soon captured by the Brass Flagon.

When the door opens and the wall of sounds and smells washes over him, he paused in the doorway and inhales deeply, sighing with the satisfaction of a tired, hungry man who knows a good meal is on the way.

He eyes the lovely ladies and breathes in the haze of drifting smoke from the halfling's leaf. "I imagine that's our lady," he mutters to his companions and nods toward the laughing young woman flanked by guards.

"Good health, Guibart!" Arawn replies heartily as the tavern-keeper introduces himself. He avails himself of pork, beer, and a pipe filled with tobacco, finding a place at an empty (or at least not completely full) table and sitting to enjoy his repast while he casually examines the occupants of the room.

[Antman9]

Okot Lichenwind (Elf, Fighter)

Okot Peace Knotts his shortsword and shows it the the guard for approval. If the guard rejects it he will hand over the shortsword, unwilling to argue at this hour of night. He will hand over his bow and quiver of arrows without question.

At the Brass Flagon he nods to Guibart out of respect and courtesy, and takes a seat with the others...To Arawn's coment of the redhaired lass, "I do believe your assumption would be correct Arawn. Not everyday you see a young woman accompanied by two heavy guards. All the same, perhaps we shall see if if she is open and in need of our services, and if not, if she is willig to share her knowledge of these lands. One never knows what a lady is willign to converse about, though I think this one may be more so than others. Shall we endevour to see?

Okot surveys the lay of the land seaching for any who might be of conversational interest, hoping to glean a bit of information on the red-haired lass (step daughter to the new Duke). Otherwise he will stroll up nice and easy to within a few paces of her armed escort, and watch the game at hand, arms casually placed across his chest with a peaceful demeanor.

[kalstone]

Angus

"Feel free, my friend Okot. Chasing women is a young man's game, so I will leave you to it.

"For my part, a choice cut of pork and a nice pipe will satisfy me."

He joins Arawn in surveying the customers.

[VonAlric]

Warwick

Hearing the demands for weapons, Warwick waits in the back while the dwarf and others fuss about their weapons. He moves a couple of stones to a pocket. When he reaches the gate keeper, he smiles to him and holds out two daggers in one hand and his pouch of stones in the other. "Do you need to take the stones? They are not steel." He tips his hat and walks away if allowed.

Once at the Brass Flagon, he takes a seat close to Rockwell, trying to keep his back to a wall and where he can see as many of the patrons as possible. When the serving girl comes around, he will politely ask for a mug of water. "Travelling always makes me crave water over a good ale. It is a bit strange." He'll lean over to the dwarf afterwards and speak quietly. "To be honest, I can't handle the ale and wine anymore since my illness, and I'd rather not try something in a strange place."

[Urson]

Rockwell
Rockwell raises an eyebrow at Warwick's comment. No ale or wine? I'd sooner be dead.

To the serving girl: Your darkest, strongest ale- and a thick cut of that pork. And some of the pipeweed,too, darlin'.

[dice_monkey]

Due to old traditions and etiquette (not including men-at-arms), swords in cities and towns were carried by upper social strata and peace knots were introduced to keep drunkards and hot heads from drawing out of anger. Over time peace knots became an art as function lost to style as knots came more intricate with a simple knot becoming long braided affairs, sometimes with silver or gold thread intertwined within string or braid.

Arawn, to carry a hand axe (even knotted) would be considered boorish and rude. Hence, you have passed it over. Okot, half a sword is no sword at all. Only a noble's young son would carry one, knotted, while following his father through the streets. Warwick, your stones are not allowed. Again, parts of a boorish weapon. However, there is good news! Daggers are allowed and are not required to be knotted.

The Brass Flagon's atmosphere is cheery and the food is better than most inns. Beer, ale and wine flow all night, the wenches are flirty and the bard is never without a saucy rousing song. Okot is watching the game, or is he watching the young flame-haired lass carouse freely with those around her. The others are enjoying all that the inn offers. At some point during the night five figures slowly file into the inn. You notice them because much like yourselves, they don't quite fit in with the people of Freystone. Each wears a floor-length cloak of dark green, their faces hidden deep inside their hoods. They keep together as they wind their way to a trestle near the baroness.

When it seems they might start to sit down, all five pull back their hoods, revealing shaved scalps adorned with all manner of esoteric symbols daubed against their skin (blood?). One of them began to mouth which Warwick recognizes as magic even though he cannot hear the words over the noise. Hand gestures accompany the stranger's words and in the blink of an eye, the two guards behind the baroness are suddenly plastered against the wall with thick webs. At the same time, the other four each draw ancient looking daggers with dark wavy blades. While the patrons look on riveted in place, the four shriek in unison as two advance on the baroness, "The Great One cries for your death! Your death will be our ecstasy! We are promised!"

All hell breaks loose...

Here we go! Gentlemen, please post your actions. Give me your Dexterity score and your action. Actions that require a to hit and damage, do so on the US Dice Roller and post both results.

So far, one has cast a spell and will have drawn an identical dagger for the next round. Two are advancing on the baroness with daggers and the other three have turned to face anyone who would dare interfere. Okot, who was watching close by the bodyguards almost got plastered with them. He is roughly at a right angle to the imperiled baroness and may jump in against one of the assailants.

Peace knotted swords take the round to undo. Daggers may be used this round.

Warning! Imminent House Ruling! Punching is allowed, damage is 1-3 subdual damage. Grappling as well, which requires only a To Hit Roll followed by a saving throw from the attacked. A hit with a failed saving throw equals a successful grapple and the attacked cannot do anything that round. The grappled stay pinned until the attacked rolls a successful saving throw. Does this make sense? Am I wrong? Have a missed anything in the rules?

Actions!