Age of Worms: Act I - The Whispering Cairn

[Verbatim]

Springing up with his spear leading the way, the blade of the spear stabbed deeply into the remaining bird and with a quick downward jerk, Chryse slammed the bird and speartip had into the sodden earth, stilling the bird's movements once and for all.

OOC Combat:[sblock]Chryse rolled 20 for attack, 19 to confirm, 8 pts of damage to kill Stirge #3. Combat is over, and I am getting new dice tomorrow. So try anything tonight guys as it seems fate is smiling on you all.[/sblock]

 

[unleashed]

Orin Heartwood, Male Half-Elf Ranger

Relaxing his draw on the string as the man impales the last avian on his spear, Orin continues toward the mining office scanning the sky for more of the strange creatures.

 

[hippocrachus]

With the last bird dead, Chryse bent his knee to inspect his wound closely.
Deep, but Apotropaeus Apollo has averted mortal woe, he bows his head in silent prayer and offers thanks for bringing him out of the battle alive.

 

[Verbatim]

Shadow:[sblock] The tracks you saw seemed to be formed all around the building, leading you to guess that whoever made them is either inside, or gone from the area. Also stepping into view is a cloaked figure slowly lowering the longbow that he carried, although he has not placed the arrow back into its quiver. You also see a door in the back of the building, and notice that all the windows are covered with boards, although some rattle slightly with the gusts which strike the building, and you as well.[/sblock]

Orin: [sblock]Approaching the young man in the white tunic, you see the second man approaching the rear of the building, and while you see him glance your way for a moment, he does not stop walking towards the back of the shack. You wonder what he will do when he realizes that the back door is barred from the inside, or was the last time you and Venelle were here.[/sblock]

Chryse: [sblock]Looking up from the impaled bird, you can see a cloaked figure approaching you, with a longbow held in one hand, a red fletched arrow held knocked in the down position in the other. While his steps are steady, he does not seem to sink into the mud that is forming all around you, seeming to step away a moment before the pressure would cause his boots to become mired in the muck.[/sblock]

 

[Majin]

Damien grinned mischievously at the dwarf, then put on his best trader's-face. "Why I'm here for a high stakes game, my good dwarf." Smiling at the dwarf's no doubt disbelieving stare, he fished the map out of his cloak pocket and waved it in front of the server. "I am sure you have heard of the Whispering Caverns and how empty of anything valuable they are. Well, I have it on good authority, that this map leads directly to a secret entrance, in which there are still riches buried!"

Damien continued smiling confidently at the dwarf in front of him. He knew what he was doing was dangerous; a bit more dangerous than his usual pranks, but he was only trying to gain access to one of the more profitable games. Perhaps earn enough coin in exchange for betting the map to entice his father to pack up and finally move to another city, where things might be more exciting, where the lasses were prettier and were more interested in a harmless cuddle, no strings attached - where there were higher stakes games.

I'm only in trouble if I lose, he told himself. And I'm planning nothing of the sort, he thought, waiting patiently for the dwarf's response.

[sblock]OoC: Just a heads up Verb: As it doesn't fit the character of a "small town" boy, Damien is not armed at the moment. His quarterstaff is at home, as well as the blade he plays at swords with sometimes with his father, learning to defend himself. So if he gets into any trouble, he'll have to rely on his feet to quickly get him out of said trouble. [/sblock]

 

[hippocrachus]

At the sight of the arrow, the story fits into place. Wise enough to know Apollo would not himself bless him with a personal visit, Chryse assumes the figure before him is elf-kin. He rises from his prayer and hails the cloaked archer.
"Greetings, messenger of the Fardarter," he says regally. "Apollo has kissed your arrows this night."

 

[unleashed]

Orin Heartwood, Male Half-Elf Ranger

Confident that there are no more of the avians about, Orin returns the nocked arrow to its quiver while continuing up to the door.

“I do not know that name, and doubt any but Ehlonna would deign to bless my simple arrows.”

Saying nothing more to the man, he reaches for his arrow that pins the strange bird to the door and wrenches it free. Examining the bizarre bird for several seconds, he drops it from the shaft, before returning the ruined shaft upside down to its quiver...taking it as a trophy of his first kill.

 

[Verbatim]

Damien:[sblock]As a few of the patrons looked towards Damien, one stared at him with a look of open disbelief, and with an angry scowl began walking towards him. Clad in a high-collared red cape fastened with a skull clasp over a green jerkin and pants the stranger began walking towards him giving you a chance to examine him as he approached. While his face was unlined, his receding hairline, as well as heavy gray streaking through his brown hair, belied his true age. As he rubbed his goatee absently while staring at you as your father would a horse at auction, you notice a silver ring on his third finger, the face of it in the shape of an eight-pointed star.

”I am Khellek, and before I have Lazare summon the Sheriff from his game upstairs, I will give you one chance to explain to me how a map I brought into this town is now in your possession.”

The older man’s voice was as hard as flint and a deep silence slowly began to spread throughout the gambling hall until Damien felt everyone’s gaze upon him.[/sblock]

 

[hippocrachus]

"We may be tools of the gods, but our love to them is just as vital as their love to us. Your arrows may be blessed by more than you may know, mighty archer." Knowing well his deity is not a familiar entity here, he does not question the archer's ignorance. But that does not mean he will pass-up an opportunity to enlighten the blind.
"Apollo reigns over the sport you so embody. He has seen that your arrows fly true," he says, walking over to join the man at the threshold.
What omen is this? Barred from this place, and attacked on its doorstep. The shelter it offers is dismal compared to the sky, he thinks to himself, looking up at the cloudy and rainy night.

 

[Majin]

Damien's eyes widen slightly and his outstretched hand, still holding the map, goes limp as the man standing before him mentions his connection to the rolled up parchment. Now you've done it you fool, he scolded himself.

"You-your map, you say? the boy stammers, now clutching his prize defensively to his chest. He started to back up, only to collide with a coat rack near the door. Swinging around and grabbing hold of the thing so as to save it from crashing to the floor, he stumbled around a few moments longer, righting it, before shooting his wide-eyed gaze back to the caped man staring hard back at him.

Taking a quick look around the room, everyone staring at him, Damien realized running would do him no good. Everyone had seen the spectacle he had created. If they hadn't noticed the boast about the map, they certainly caught his battle with the coat rack. Finally, he grinned sheepishly at the apparent owner of the map and answered, "I won it fair and square in a contest at the Feral Dog.... uh... sir?" unsure of how to address the oddly dressed man.