Valley of the Dead: Chapter 1 "A gathering of heroes"

Merry quickly raises her eyes as she sips her mug of steaming hot tea, when she hears mention of the Valley. The lass's cute face is now frozen for a moment, as she still holds the large clay cup with both hands, the edge barely touching her lips. "So, you're going to the Valley then? I guess you'll be joining those Paladins that have come to town recently. It'd be foolish to go alone for sure."

Just then, Jill comes back with a large loaf of round, home made bread, and a big square piece of white cottage cheese. "Here!" the little girl smiles eagerly and places the food on the table. She then eyes Thok with suspicion and waves her index finger, which is about as long as one of the Half-Orc's teeth. "You must wash your hands before eating, right Merry?" Jill addresses her sister with a proud grin on her face.

Merry looks at Thok and Kye apologetically but nods and says "Yes that's right."

She then gets up and brings a pitcher of water and a hempen towel. "Please, feel free. Eat and drink up, but we must head off soon. It's almost evening and i have to go to "The Three Queens" before the patrons start swarming Mr. Hatley. You are welcome to accompany me though, I'm sure the roasted meats and fine ales they have there will be more satisfying than our own plain food." Merry speaks with a calm voice as she takes off the towel from her head and releases her luscious auburn hair.





Adelaide nods and places her left hand on the hilt of her sword, as the group makes their way trough the now less crowded streets. The promise of heavier rains has discouraged the populace from roaming about, and only the occasional peddler or street urchin can be seen. "It is not my place to speak for Lazarus, but i think he rather liked you and that Aasimar man, while he only recognized the need for the Wizard's skills. But, going outside in the rain and when night is fast approaching is not the wisest of choices - If that rash man behind us did not object, I am sure you can see merit in that as well. By the way - the female Paladin fixes something on her gloves as she speaks. - why do you fight with concealed blades? I must admit their efficiency the way you gutted that ruffian. But i had always thought them the weapons of thugs and miscreants. No offense meant, of course."

Bran grins and slaps Sensalar's shoulder lightly with his massive palm. "Eh, yer a farmboy then? Or do ye have some Ranger training? Never dun seen one with looks such as yers. Ye be from another kingdom? Anyay, Lobri's breed is special. They be really strong beasties to be sure - ye heard of a Dire Boar? Well they be like them, only tougher an' more stubborn, har har! - Bran laughs and slaps Lobri's thick white mane, the fur cushioning the blow to such an extent that the beast doesn't even turn it's head towards the large man. - I found him as a bleating young lamb, barely a week old. Shivverin' on a bunch o' rocks up in da Norhtern mountains. His whole heard was slaughtered - bad stuff, blood and guts everywhere. What could chew trough more than a score o' Dire Rams, I dunno, but it sure ain't no forest critter dat i know of, and i knows them all."

The group soon reaches their destination, a large three story building made of stone, with stables on the side. The wooden sign, now screeching slowly as the wind moves it back and forth, displays a silver boar in flight and four men armed with spears chasing it trough a wooded region. Below it says "THE SILVER BOAR" with large, white letters.

Inside, the tavern on the first floor is packed with visitors, although it is not noisy or stuffy. Most of the patrons seem to be Paladins or others enlisted with Lazrus's crusade, and they are quietly conversing over ale and supper. Behind the bar, the innkeeper is a large, bearded fellow with a scar running across his forehead. Despite the gray in his hair, he seems to be the tough and "no nonsense" type of person. In one of the corners, a duo of a man and a woman, are performing a popular folk song, the man playing a lute and the woman singing with a pleasant voice. Both of them are dressed in green and white, with golden jewelry on their arms and around their necks.

When Adelaide approaches the innkeeper he raises his hands apologetically and speaks before she has the chance. "Sorry m'aam, ain't got no more room left. Tell his Lordship that I can't accommodate any more patrons, even though the Gods as my witness i want to. Even the servant's quarters have been emptied and provided to yer order. Hell even the stables are full, since every one of you has a horse!"





The other Wizard remains silent for a moment, his hands clasped before his face. He then replies with annoyance in his tone. "I do not find amusement when i have to rely on idiots to carry out my plans. Unfortunately this endeavor by the temple of Lathander has gathered every moron with a rusty sword from fifty miles, and everyone thinks they are a big hero. I need men of skill and wit, and ones that can keep their focus. Now, before we continue, I must ask you to remove your accomplice. What i have to offer and say is for your ears only."


Meanwhile, in the "Lone Traveler"s crowded and loud main hall, a short, almost invisible figure sits quietly and drinks cheap, watered-down ale. Herriman is alone on a table for two, and nobody seems to be paying any attention to him at all. The big breasted serving wench had disregarded him the moment she saw his appearance - was it because he is a Halfling, or because his clothes are worn and have lost colour with use, he could not tell. She had come only to take his order, then brought it and insisted he pay before she left to accommodate some other, richer looking patrons with a greasy smile on her face.

Curiously enough, Herriman noticed the coming of two spellcasters of some sort, and their private conversation on the table behind him. It is hard to hear much because of the noise in the tavern, but if he tries he can catch a word or two trough the shouting and laughing.

[sblock]Listen check please! This is the best way to start you off, trust me Latham's conversation will be of major interest to Herriman.[/sblock]

Herriman slowly sips the mug of ale, even though he hasn't needed food or drink for months. That ring he now wore on his right pinky had been quite an astonishing find. Even when its magic took effect, though, he still took meals every once in a while, if only for the sake of appearances.

His eyes, partly hidden behind the rim of his drinking vessel, survey the room, taking note, even while his ears try to pick out the words of the two mages sitting behind him. He trusts in his natural abilities to blend in while listening. After all, the other patrons and that silly server had paid him no heed before. Why should any start now? He is, after all, only a simple, poor traveler... If only for the sake of appearances.

[sblock=Roll]
Listen check: 19. Probably not... Even with that +15 modifier, IC still messes with me.
[/sblock]

Latham's eyebrows furrow, either in annoyance at the request, or anger that his Githyanki couldn't be trusted. With a defiant tone, Latham explains succinctly, "My accomplice here speaks or understands no words other than his native tongue, which I assure you, we do not hear in this land, but very well."

Latham turns and looks at Keht and speaks several low syllables*. The large, shrouded monk nods his head solemnly and then looks around for an adequate space to quarter himself for the time being, deciding between this way and that before nearly toppling a lone halfling at the table.

Slowly Latham gives his attention back to the wizard, "The only good from your rusty sworded fodder is just that, they will charge, they will die, and I will live." He pauses for a moment, his finger tapping loudly on the wooden table, "Speak your mind, old man, and if secrecy is really important, perhaps another language?" he speaks the last question in clear, beautiful Elven, the transition between the common tongue of man and the eloquent language being one linguists would be proud to hear.


* Speaking in Githzerai, Latham tells Keht to leave for a moment, using a symbolic metaphor so the monk would understand.

"It is not my place to speak for Lazarus, but i think he rather liked you and that Aasimar man, while he only recognized the need for the Wizard's skills. But, going outside in the rain and when night is fast approaching is not the wisest of choices - If that rash man behind us did not object, I am sure you can see merit in that as well. By the way - the female Paladin fixes something on her gloves as she speaks. - why do you fight with concealed blades? I must admit their efficiency the way you gutted that ruffian. But i had always thought them the weapons of thugs and miscreants. No offense meant, of course."

Alevyth smiled faintly as he walked along, relaxing at this point, knowing that any foolish enough to attack a known paladin of Lathander as well as two accompanying figures was indeed a fool. As Adelaide spoke, he listened intently, before answering with a chuckle.

"I do indeed see the merit in waiting until the rain and darkness subsides. I merely am loathe to let those poor souls suffer longer under their curse. As for my weapons... they are part of the reason my old tutor... a knight my family introduced me to, parted ways with me. I was tired of consistently finding the thugs and other violent beings who I ended up in combat disarming me of my sword, and so... I bring more than one so that I am never disarmed. It is effective, and helps me end the suffering of others by quickly ending hostilities." Alevyth spoke, pausing a moment before adding another thought. "After all, it is far more merciful to grant an irredeemable being a swift death rather than slowly beating it to death with my fists, no?"

Sensalar takes special note of the circumnstances under which Lobri was found before begging Bran's pardon for a moment and approaching Adelaide.
"As for myself, if it would be easier to find lodging within the city for three, I have no objection to seeing to my own lodging, despite the weather. So long as I am able to find you when necessary on the morrow."

Adelaide huffs at the Innkeeper's remark and crosses her arms, her golden chainmail binging in the light thrown by one of the brass candle bras. "I need lodgings for these men, they are going to risk their lives tomorrow to save your town mister Seemer! - the female Paladin's voice is feminine, which greatly contrasts with her shining steel, leather and gold gear. - Find me something, I do not wish to have to go back to Lazarus and report your inability to accommodate when a contract has been pre-established."

The innkeeper wrinkles his forehead and stares blankly at Adelaide, and then at the group. He apparently regocnizes Bran and speaks: "Well if the Bloodmane is in town then it must be getting serious, i know how much you hate the city Bran. Very well, head over to "The Three Queens", tell that old pervert Hatley that I'm sending you, he should provide. And he better give you good rooms too, the bastard owes me! And no need to report anything to his Lordship, miss."

With that, Seemer bows as gracefully as his belly allows, and heads back towards the kitchen, yelling something about mushroom sauce.

Adelaide lets out an annoyed huff, but heads out the door and back in to the now stronger rain. The smell of rainwater and brisk air, coupled with the gray clouds above, give Angelwatch a lonely autumn facade.

She looks at the tall, dark skinned Aasimar and speaks with a calmer voice. "Nonsense Sensalar, you will be our comrade in arms, therefore you will be provided for by the Temple. The great Latha" - she pauses as Bran intervenes with his usual brash manner.

"Umph yea little Paladin miss, i dun want ta be a bother, i can go to me cabin in da woods too, ain't far ye know, ten miles or so, me an' ol' Lobri be there in no time fer sure...."

Adelaide just looks at him and nods in denial, urging the group forward. "Damn rain." she murmurs, a she walks between Alevyth and Sensalar, with Bran and Lobri following behind. "Alevyth, earlier you spoke as if you cannot conceive the notion of losing a fight. You are either very skilled or a bit overconfident. If i disarm my opponent he should either yield or get a blade trough his throat, the notion of you beating your opponent with your fists after losing your blade is... interesting. I must urge you both to be sensible when on this holy task, unwise heroics often lead to dead heroes. What say you, Aasimar?" She turns towards Sensalar and removes a lock of wet hair from her face, with rainwater running down her doll-like features.





The elder mage makes a bored face and rests his chin on his palm, but still decides to answer in Elven. Latham can see that he is not a geezer by any means, but middle-aged at most, with strands of silver in his black hair, and crows feet at the edges of his eyes. He does not seem to take offense to Lataham calling him an old man however. As a whole, his companion seems to have little enthusiasm about anything.

[sblock=Elven]"You must understand that I cannot verify your claims and therefore your companion can only slow down the process. Now, yes about fodder with swords, as i said I need results, and results are achieved by men with skill. My mission here consist of extracting several items from the Valley of the Dead. They are artifacts, powerful in the hands of some but very dangerous, and when i say dangerous i mean as in powerful men attempting to divine their location and obtain them, and not hesitating to end the one currently in possession." [/sblock]

The Wizard pauses and tosses a few gold coins to the serving wench that keeps eying them and their empty table. She grins and drops the coins in her cleavage, and attempts to lean in and talk, but is promptly dismissed with a glance and a flick of the wrist.

[sblock=Elven]"My master is one such man, and he has gained some precious information on which of the items he needs can be found in that valley. Unfortunately the whole region is sealed to Divination magic, teleportation and more. As such, it is quite inconvenient for one spellcaster alone to attempt and retreive the items. But, if you are planning on going there with those fanatics, you can use the escort of their army to do the deed. - he pauses for a moment and eyes Latham carefully. - If you are interested, we must only solidify the means of your reward. My master is rich, both in gold, influence and knowledge. You may have anything bar the artifacts themselves. If you are interested, name your price. I will show you what i know of these items, but I will first have to put you under Geas, to ensure your cooperation if you manage to return alive with said items."[/sblock]

As he finishes talking, the Wizard leans to the side and eyes the tavern slowly.

Herriman manages to hear the whole conversation, being nearly back to back with the younger Wizard. Fortunately for the Halfling, the melodious Elven is a language that he speaks, and one that none of the other patrons seem to know.

[sblock]Hide check for Herriman.

[sblock=DM stuff]Wizard Spot: 16 /+0/[/sblock][/sblock]

Herriman listens intently as the older man mentions powerful, ancient and dangerous artifacts. Such things are surely more dangerous than you can comprehend, the Halfling thinks to himself. Better they remain where they are, protected and forgotten… Even if I must end up protecting them myself.

Even though the small man is mentally on edge upon hearing this news, his body remains calm and relaxed, belying none of his tension. His stature, clothing and silence make him nigh-invisible in the crowded tavern.

[sblock=OOC and Roll]
Glad I was able to hear that info.
Italics denote thoughts, as I am definitely not saying that out loud.
And Hide check: 38. Like a shadow… in the night.
[/sblock]

Alevyth blinked at the exchange between the innkeeper and Adelaide, not exactly approving of the threat. After all, if the man had no room, he had no room... threatening him was unnecessary. Before he had a chance to intervene, arrangements were made for alternative lodgings and they were once more on their way.

"Alevyth, earlier you spoke as if you cannot conceive the notion of losing a fight. You are either very skilled or a bit overconfident. If i disarm my opponent he should either yield or get a blade trough his throat, the notion of you beating your opponent with your fists after losing your blade is... interesting. I must urge you both to be sensible when on this holy task, unwise heroics often lead to dead heroes. What say you, Aasimar?"

"You speak as if surrender is always an option, Milady. Tell me, does a rabid dog accept surrender if it manages to worry your weapon from your hand? There are some beings to whom surrender is not an option. Another example... the undead are encroaching upon our position whilst all our lives are at stake, and I am disarmed. Am I to stop fighting the poor tortured souls because fighting without one's prime weapon is unwise?" Alevyth paused briefly, before continuing. "No disrespect intended, Lady Adelaide, I am merely explaining my situation."

Latham leans back in his chair, the front two legs lifting slightly off the stone floor. The rumors appeared to be true, artifacts, riches, this was the key. The potency of his adversaries was unknown, but sure to be vast, given the fact a lich resided in the Valley.

Balling his fist up, Latham places his mouth in the opening like he was about to trumpet, and he appears lost in thought at this news. Finally, rocks his chair back to all fours, elbows on the table, and breaks his silence:

[sblock=Elven]"This is not an easy mission, both in terms of task and concealing this from the Paladins. They already do not trust me, but value my skills. I've no doubt they'd toss me aside as soon as my usefulness ends. So I'd be putting my life at risk, but undoubtedly you know this, hence your seeking another to do it rather than complete it yourself."[/sblock]

He waits a moment, gauging the wizard's reaction, before continuing on with the compensatory matter at hand.

[sblock=Elven]"As for payment, it is threefold: Anything I find I keep, save the artifacts mind you; after the mission is complete I request the ability to study through any books of research or tomes your master may have; and lastly, two thousand gold per day of my mission, or two hundred fifty gold for each spell that I cast, whichever figure is higher is that which I receive. For a master blessed with gold, influence, and knowledge, this seems hardly a steep price for such rare artifacts. And I assure you, I will be diligent with my tracking of spells performed."[/sblock]

Latham leans back once more in his chair, awaiting the reply to his demands.

Myth and Legend said:

"Alevyth, earlier you spoke as if you cannot conceive the notion of losing a fight. You are either very skilled or a bit overconfident. If i disarm my opponent he should either yield or get a blade trough his throat, the notion of you beating your opponent with your fists after losing your blade is... interesting. I must urge you both to be sensible when on this holy task, unwise heroics often lead to dead heroes. What say you, Aasimar?"

Click to expand...

"With all respect due to two accomplished warriors, I must regretfully disgree with both of you. Such a decision cannot be decided as though there are only two sides to the coin.
When facing a reasonable opponent, circumstances should dictate. One man may be a perfectly honorable and righteous individual who will neither retaliate later if beaten, nor continue after your own honorable surrender. Another may kill a man he has already beaten or return to trouble you again. Most men are essentially honorable in matters of life and death, so I am inclined to give the benefit of the doubt ad yield when beaten or show mercy when triumphant. In truth, if this were not the case, there would be far more empty taverns about."
The Aasimar's eyes harden briefly and his voice grows noticibly colder as he continues
"As for our particular circumstances, we do not deal with civilized races and I am inclined to agree with Alevyth. Not all creatures are reasonable or honorable. Should you show mercy you will likely awaken less than pleasantly one night. Should you yield expecting honor, you will likely spend eternity amongst them. Anything short of their utter destruction, regardless of what you must do to accomplish it, lays the fate of yourself and their future victims upon your own head."