[Pathfinder] Kill Bargle ... Again!


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    [Pathfinder] Kill Bargle ... Again!

    KILL BARGLE!

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    RG Thread

    ---------------------------------------------------------------

    Baslwief was a village dreamed up during the Chelaxian glory days more than a century before when all had been fine with the world. Korvosa had been a new city, spreading its fingers out into the hinterlands in search of raw materials to fuel its rise to glory. At that time Baslwief was only a few sturdy buildings along the banks of the Sarwin, a place where miners could load their smelted ores onto barges to find more lucrative markets downstream.

    Then the god Aroden had died or vanished and Cheliax had crumbled into civil war and anarchy for decades. Left without a strong backer and a well-paid army, Korvosa had scaled back its influence, leaving its constellation of smaller towns and villages to fend for themselves.

    Baslwief had gone through similar upheavals at the beginning of the Ages of Lost Omens, but since folk here were used to surviving on their own, little changed. Families of halflings fleeing the turmoil elsewhere had arrived soon after and quickly integrated themselves into the various service industries. Within a generation no one could believe that the diminutive folk had not been here forever. Then more and more arrived looking for a quiet spot to live their lives and before anyone knew it, they had become the majority.

    Now every other building in Baslwief is half-sized, and only a single standard tavern is still in business, run by halflings, of course. It is here in the Crooked Timber that your group has sequestered itself, waiting out the heavy Desnus rains. The food is quite decent, and the local brewers have come up with a tasty barleywine which packs quite a punch.

    You arrived in the village three days ago and the storms swept in close behind you, trapping you here temporarily. Only recently had you picked up information that Bargle had taken up residence in an abandoned keep not too far from the village. After trekking around half of lower Varisia you can hardly believe that you may soon avenge your friend Aleena's death. Now if only the rains would stop!
    Last edited by Branding Opportunity; Tuesday, 30th September, 2008 at 03:31 AM.

 

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    Jorrayl stares out despondantly at the rain, sharpening his blades for the umpteenth time. Its been so long, to finally have Bargle in their sites again and be thwarted by the weather! It was too much.

    He amuses himself by playing out Bargle's fate in his mind. He chuckles darkly remembering the old rat and a heated pot trick - that might suffice. It wouldn't bring Aleena back, but at least he'd be able to tell her he made the bastard pay.

    "How long can this last?" He asks, his nasal voice heavy with frustration.
    Back after a long absence, and feeling rather sheepish.

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    "The rain? Or our search for Bargle?" Zakok, the big shoanti barbarian replies to the smaller man's question.He barely felt the rain, his blood already burning with the thought of soon revenge.
    ooc: survival+5 for knowing the weather.
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    Garvin, Human Ranger 3

    Garvin takes a sip from the mug of ale that he's been nursing for the last half-hour, and swishes it around in his mouth as he considers the question at hand. He swallows and leans back in his chair, wood creaking.

    "I think he means the rain. The weather is out of our hands. Once it has had its say, then the hunt resumes. And that is something we control. It may be frustrating, but possess yourselves of patience. I'd wager that our 'friend' the wizard is not going anywhere in these rains either. And while he sits among damp ruins, we have a nice cozy inn. All the better to keep us well rested for when we go after our quarry once more.
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    The front door of the tavern opens briefly, admitting a spray of cold rain and a young halfling woman named Sophone. You made her acquaintance a few days back when you first got into town, after asking around for anyone who might be familiar with the local countryside. The innkeeper at the Crooked Timber had recommended Sophone to you, knowing that she had a great love of the outdoors and more than the usual dose of halfling curiosity.

    The young woman slides over to your table, shaking the wetness off her cloak and nods to all of you before pulling up a chair and sitting down.

    "Well, good morning to you folks," she comments, straightening a few loose strands of hair. She looks around expectantly, "Isn't one of you gents going to buy a cold lady a hot drink? I think I may have some information you might be interested in."

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    "Of course we are. Garvin buy the lady a drink." Snapper says moving over and pulling up a chair which he sits upon backwards resting his arms upon the back.

    "So what's the skinny Sophone?"
    Back after a long absence, and feeling rather sheepish.

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    Garvin had already been reaching for his purse when Jorrayl's instructions came through. He blinked once, and gave the rogue a bemused look, before shaking his head and continuing with his task. He pulls out a coin, and beckons to the barkeep.

    "Something warm for the lady."
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    Thieren finally turns from where he has been staring out the window, in silent communion with Torag. He has found no rewarding outlet for his anger at Bargle, but his determination to find and punish the man has firmed to the strength of the earth and the unyielding firmness of mountain rock.

    His eyes settle on the soaked halfling and his gravelly voice joins the discussion. Yes, lass. Tell us what ye know. Give us a brief bit o' light on this dreary day.

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    The innkeeper, an elderly halflng with graying blond hair brings over a mug of mulled cider with a quick glance at Sophone.

    Paying him hardly any attention, the younger halfling grabs the drink and draws her legs up under herself on the chair. "That's better," she murmurs after taking a few sips, "I was beginning to not feel the ends of my fingers."

    "Well, I've been asking around at the local farmsteads and they've been reporting that more cattle than usual have been going missing. After a few visits I noticed that these stories are centered in the vicinity of Castle Mistamere."

    At this her demeanor becomes a bit more serious, "Tis a bad place from what I have heard. Less than a day's travel from here, hard against the mountains. Even the miners avoid it, and they'll generally put up with almost anything."

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    "Interestin' anyone see any tracks or such?" Jerrayl asks, evidently intrigued.

    "Ye reckon' the weathers cleared up enough fer us te go and take a shufty?" Hope rings in his nasal voice.
    Back after a long absence, and feeling rather sheepish.

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