HM's Rise of the Runelords - IC

"Zahur went after them you say?" Shrieff Hemlock says with a raised eyebrow. "I'll send a few men to Junker's Edge to keep a look out for him." he says leaving to go talk to his men.

"All of you have done very well, but before we go looking for the why of this attack, we need to bury our dead and make sure no stragglers have been left behind to cause mischief." Father Zantus says to the heroes before turning to an aid and whispering something. The acolyte moves towards the church and disappears inside.

"Your heroism and aid shall not go unrewarded. I have sent for a few items that will help all of you as you help Sandpoint further."

Moments later the aid returns with a small coffer. "Your reward please accept this from all the folk of Sandpoint."

Another cheer rips through the crowd as the coffer is handed over to the group.

"And I'll be sure to reward all of you for your saving of my life as well." Aldern adds with a whisper and a grin. "True heroes are rare."

[sblock=coffer]
- 3 potions of cure light wounds
- potion shield of faith +2
- wand cure light wounds (16 charges)
- scroll bless[/sblock]

_________________________________________

OOC: Sorry for the slight fast forward - but with my time restraints and the site I wish to get set up a little for the next chapter.

Late that afternoon Ameiko Kajitsu (a local popular noble) wishes to buy all of you drinks at her inn The Rusty Dragon, as a way of saying thank you.

So after helping move goblin bodies, tending to the wounded, or searching homes to make sure they are safe, the group meets after sundown at The Rusty Dragon, where it is standing room only, save for the heroes who have a table of their own right in the center of the common room.

"Alright! Alright! Quit crowding them. Let them breathe you louts!" Ameiko says causing the crowd around the table to break up. Bringing five foaming tankards herself, she looks around and asks. "The big dark guy isn't back yet? Hope he didn't run into trouble."

She shrugs and sits the mugs down taking Zahur's for herself. "Drink up," She says after raising her mug to the group. "To your further success."

"Thanks, Ameiko," says Wesh, smiling warmly at his old friend as he raises his mug to clang together with hers. "Hell of a day, that is for sure," he adds before taking a swig of the ale. "I've been in some scrapes before, but I can't say any of those gave me a feeling like this, like there is something bigger going on. I think I'm already beginning to more appreciate some of the stories you brought back from your own travels."

Khepri accepts the mug as she has accepted the other gifts of the town. Her feelings now, as then, are mixed. She didn't come here to be a hero, or to fight...but the tenets of her order were clear. There was need here, and a chance to prove herself. The cheering of the crowds and the gratitude of the people was heartening...but she sensed in them a danger of pride. How long before she expected these things as her rightful due? It was right and good that the strong protect the weak, but that relationship was turning out to be more complex than she'd expected.

Meeting Ameiko was a welcome distraction from these thoughts. She was not from the same land as Khepri, but her people were much closer than Varesia, and there had been more than one caravan driver with features recognizably similar to Kajitsu crossing the desert.

"You've traveled?" she inquires, looking up from her mug at Ameiko. "I would enjoy hearing some of those stories sometime myself. This is my first long journey, and it's already become more than I bargained for...but not in a bad way."

"A tale it is then, my fair Osirion friend," Ameiko says setting back on two legs of her chair. "I have traveled for sure. As a little girl I made my way by boat with my family from far off Minkai. While most of the trip was boring there was a day when..."

The night passes with stories and laughs as the group warms to their hostess. When the hour turns late Ameiko offers the group rooms free of charge for the next week. It is a generous offer to be sure but Ameiko says housing the Heroes of Sandpoint will be good for the reputation of the Rusty Dragon, so in the end everyone wins.

After showing you your rooms (a row of four out of six on the third floor) she bids you all a good night.

[sblock=OOC] Sorry for the rush off to bed but I think it wise to save as much time pbp (and with the site flare ups) and there is nothing left to do in this part of the chapter.

And the next part starts off with a week gone by with a little interlude I will post up before starting the next chapter.

From all of you a post as to what you wish to do during the week. The town will spend the first few days cleaning up, but beyond that it will be quiet.

after everyone posts I will advance things.[/sblock]

When Wesh wakes the next morning he has a raging headache and a churning stomach. He barely remembers making his way up to his room and falling into bed. But it was a good night of stories and drinking with his childhood friend Ameiko, Jeyanah, and their two new acquaintances Khepri and Chase. At least if you could forget the blood spilled by the goblins for a little while.

Once the quickblade has crawled out of bed he makes his way downstairs to tell Ameiko that he is going to go home to rest until he has gotten over his hangover, figuring that it is better to make a mess at home rather than in the Rusty Dragon. When he gets there an empty house greets him; his father could handle himself in a fight, so it was unlikely he was injured too badly in the attack. Wherever he was, it was probably not wasting time lying around like his son.

It was early evening by the time Wesh was feeling he could hold the contents of his stomach down, though his headache had yet to pass. But he picked himself up and left the house, checking back in at the Rusty Dragon before going out to see what he could help with. Unfortunately the quickblade, having spent most of his time devoting himself to the art of knife-fighting, does not have much in the way of skills that would be useful in a cleanup. But he does have a sturdy enough back, and he is able to help with porting goods around.

Once nighttime has come, Wesh's skills as an entertainer are put to good use. The attack has meant more than a few people could use something to keep their spirits high. Between feats of juggling, sleight of hand, and a bit of dancing when appropriate, he is able to keep the crowd going that night. After what happened last night though, he decides to lay off the drink for a bit. Cayden Cailean might disapprove, but he hopes the spirited god can let that sort of thing slide from time to time. After all, he is supposed to be the "Happy Drunk" , and Wesh is not going to be feeling too happy if he has another morning like the last.

The next day is rather like the one before, minus the hangover, which means the quickblade is able to be productive for most of the day. That night Wesh is able to enjoy a drink or two at the Rusty Dragon while talking with friends and companions. But he still takes it easy and retires to his room upstairs at an uncharacteristically responsible hour.

The rest of the week is spent between the usually odd jobs Wesh had traditionally found himself saddled with and taking directions from Sheriff Hemlock and his father, whom returns later in the week from some errand he had been taking care of for the Sheriff. Plenty more time is found for drinking with friends, and he rather enjoys his newfound status. Though "Hero of Sandpoint" does sound a little overwrought, Wesh likes to think that his recent exploits have added nicely to his status as Sandpoint's Favourite Son. Speaking of which though, Wesh does find some time to talk alone with his old man. His father had long since come to respect his abilities with blades, but for the first time in a long time they were able to talk without him feeling reserved about the pride he felt in his son's actions. And that was good.

Having been far more interested in the stories than the drinks, Jeyanah wakes feeling refreshed . . . but there's something else, as well. A sense of peace? Of belonging? She lies there in the bed, opening herself to the experience and contemplating its meaning, and realizes that that last bit of shame, that lingering voice that once whispered to her in the still of the night that she was unworthy, that she could have done more to save her tribe, had been washed away in the fight to save Sandpoint and in the wash of gratitude from its citizens.

Once she'd worked it through, it was out of bed and off to work. After quickly performing her morning ablutions and wolfing down some breakfast, she went out to survey the damage and to do what she could to aid in the cleanup.

The next two days are spent losing herself in the work, making new friends amongst the folk of Sandpoint and getting to know Khepri and Chase.

On the third day she heads out into the wilderness, after letting Wesh know where she's going so he won't fret over her absence. She spends the rest of the week working on her survival skills and listening to the wind . . . and to the voices of the Otòn.

She returns to town much refreshed.
_______________


[sblock=Stat Block]
JEYANAH ASASEHN CR 1/2
Female Human (Shoanti) Oracle (Mystic Skirmisher) 1
CG Medium Humanoid (Human)
Init +3; Senses Perception +1
--------------------
DEFENSE
--------------------
AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 14. . (+4 armor, +3 Dex)
hp 10/14 (1d10)
Fort +2, Ref +3, Will +2
Weakness Haunted
--------------------
OFFENSE
--------------------
Spd 35 ft.
Melee
. . Cestus +4 (1d4+1/19-20/x2)
. . Curve Blade, Elven +4 (1d10+1/18-20/x2)
. . Dagger +4 (1d4+1/19-20/x2)
. . Hanbo +4 (1d6+1/20/x2)
. . Unarmed Strike +4 (1d3+1/20/x2)
Special Attacks
. . Touch of Electricity (1d6+1) (6/day)
Oracle (Mystic Skirmisher) Spells Known (CL 1, +4 melee touch, +4 ranged touch):
1 (4/day) Shield of Faith (DC 14), Cure Light Wounds (DC 14), Burning Disarm (DC 14)
0 (at will) Mending, Mage Hand, Ghost Sound (DC 13), Sotto Voce (DC 13), Light, Enhanced Diplomacy, Spark (DC 13)
--------------------
STATISTICS
--------------------
Str 13, Dex 16, Con 10, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 16
Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 15
Feats Exotic Weapon Proficiency: Curve Blade, Elven, Persuasive, Totem Spirit - Tamiir-Quah (Wind Clan), Weapon Finesse
Traits Bred for War (Shoanti), Fast-Talker, Giant Slayer
Skills Acrobatics +8, Bluff +8, Climb +0, Diplomacy +9, Escape Artist +2, Fly +2, Heal +4, Intimidate +10, Perception +1, Ride +2, Sense Motive +5, Stealth +2, Swim +0
Languages Common, Shoanti, Varisian
Combat Gear
Cestus, Curve Blade, Elven, Dagger (3), Dagger, Hanbo, Masterwork Chain Shirt
Other Gear
Backpack, Masterwork (9 @ 14 lbs), Bag, Waterproof (5 @ 1.5 lbs), Bedroll, Charcoal Stick, Flint and steel, Ink (1 oz. vial, black), Inkpen, Journal, Lantern, hooded, Potion of Cure Light Wounds, Rations, trail (per day) (4), Soap, Bar (50 uses), Whetstone, Wrist sheath, spring loaded (1 @ 1 lbs)
--------------------
SPECIAL ABILITIES
--------------------
Giant Slayer +1 Bluff, Perception, Sense Motive, attack and damage against giants.
Haunted Retrieving stored gear is a Standard action or worse, dropped items land 10' away.
Touch of Electricity (1d6+1) (6/day) (Su) Melee touch attack deals 1d6+1 Electricity damage.
--------------------
"The giants took my family . . . not my life, though I thought it at the time.

"I was born into the Otòn tribe of the Tamiir-Quah Shaonti 17 summers past. My life in the mountains of northern Varisia was good; I had the love and respect of my family, and I excelled in the games and contests my people use for preparing their youth to enter the world as adults.

"But I never reached my passage. On the eve of my name-day and marking ceremony - the 14th anniversary of my birth - the giants attacked my tribe and slaughtered all of my kin. I was 'spared' only because I had retreated to our sacred cave to prepare myself for my naming. Lost in the trance my people use for ground and center, I did not even hear the sounds of the ending of my world.

"When I 'awoke' and went to join my people, my ground was shattered, my center blown away by the storm of slaughter revealed to my eyes.

"The tempest of my grief was almost my destruction, but I lived through the body of the storm and eventually found it's eye. A . . . presence . . . called to me, caught me up and anchored me in calm. I know not the length of time I spent within the eye of my grief-storm, listening to the council of winds all around me, but when the eye released me from its calm I found that I had passed through the other edge of my sorrow. The winds that once howled of the passing of my tribe now sing to me of purpose, though I know not what it is.

"Bereft of kith and kin, past the age of my youth but unable to live amongst the Shaonti as an adult because I had not completed my naming, I left the mountains of Varisia. For the past three years I have traveled the land, doing what I can to preserve my honor and hone my skills as I seek the purpose to which the wind calls me. I have met many people, made many friends; I have learned much of the calling of the wind and improved my martial skills.

"I know that the Otòn continue - they whisper to me when the winds are quiet, they play their mischievous tricks upon me to remind me of their presence. It is not much, but it suffices. I am at peace.

Except for the giants."

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[/sblock]

Chase spends the week helping where he can. But the man is nothing if not a lone wolf, and so he also spends much of his day in the wilds surrounding Sandpointe, hunting and exploring. He happily shares the game he kills with the locals, making sure that none goes to waste. By nights, Chase takes dinner at the inn. He speaks little, but spends much of his time listening, learning what he can about the people of the town.

The morning after the goblin attack Khepri is surprised to find Aldren Foxglove waiting to talk with her. The man is very civil asking a dozen or more questions...

OOC: I'll let Shayuri take it from there I am trying to set up something extra.

Khepri leaves the inn well rested and with a clear plan of what she means to do. The Lighthouse is still there, still unvisited. And that curious bookseller bore further investigation. With the 'goblin' threat ended, she was free to pursue the real reason she'd come...

...and there, standing outside as if he'd been waiting for her, was Aldren Foxglove. That was a distraction she didn't need, didn't want...but he persisted, following her as she went to buy a few things, and offering to pay for her breakfast.

After responding to his barrage of innocent little questions with noncommittal gestures and not-terribly-illuminating one-word answers, she finally turned to look at him directly. Was it his fault for not getting the hint? She wasn't sure if she wanted him to leave or not.

"Aldern," she said, "Please...slow down." Khepri waited until he managed to stop talking, then waited a moment longer and said, "I apologize if my directness is rude here, but you are asking so many questions, you can't possibly remember all the answers. What do you really want?"

"I...I..." the man stammers being called out without warning. "I only wish to know you a bit better."

Looking down at the ground he kicks the dirt. "I have to leave soon, but before I go I wish to reward you and your friends. But I was hoping to give you a special gift to remember me by. But first I needed to know just a bit more about you and why your here in Sandpoint."

His face turns red and he stands like a boy who has begged for a candy and worries he'll be told no.

OOC: Just need to know if Khepri spends a few hours truly talking to Aldren about herself. Just let me know.

__________________________________________________

Interlude:

It has been three days since the attack on Sandpoint, and as the town recovers from the attack (buries its thankfully few dead) the citizens do their best to get on with their lives. The cathedral is consecrated during a muh more subdued, indoor ceremony and the goblin attack is remembered mostly with chuckles. With the terror of the raid over, images of goblins accidentally lighting themselves on fire, getting stepped on by horses, or drowning in half-full rain barrels color memories of the raid in an almost comical light.

But one thing the locals haven't forgotten is their heroes.

Somehow the story of what the group did during the raid has spread like wildfire in dry weeds. And now their names have become household names.

As Jeyanah walks back to the Rusty Dragon the plump baker's wife, Alma Avertin charges out into the street to press a fresh loaf of bread in her hands. "You are so thin deary. Here this will help." she says with a big smile before leaving the younger woman confused in the street.

Chase enters the Hagfish one night to cheers and a round of drinks on the house. Men spend the rest of the night telling one long tale after another of the woodsman's prowess and the number of goblins that feel before his bow.

Wesh gets is knives sharpened for free at Savah's Armory, and is told he has a standing twenty percent off his next purchase there.

And Khepri is approached by a man named Cyrdak Drokkus, the local thespian. He nearly begs the woman to audition for a part in his next play, saying her presence was made for the stage.

This morning, as everyone sits and slowly east breakfast, (not wanting to truly brave the throngs just yet) Sheriff Hemlock enters the common room and makes his way towards your table.

He's followed by no other than, Zahur. The tall, dark-skinned man breaks into a smile when he sees all of you.

"Greetings, my brothers and sisters in arms. It is good to see you all once more," he says in his accented deep voice.