Midnight: Peril in Arbordale

[Toric_Arthendain]

The Northlands are cold this early autumn, colder than at any time this early in the season in recent memory. Many argue that it is ALWAYS cold in the northern reaches of Eredane, despite the season. The real old-timers know better though. They know that this coming winter is shaping up to be the coldest in the last 100 years. A thin blanket of snow already covers the land as far south as the northern shores of the Sea of Pelluria.

Those that live north of the great inland sea live a hard life. The harsh weather is just another challenge. And so it goes for the residents of Arbordale, a smallish village located some 200 miles to the southwest of the ruined city of Cale and about 50 miles due east of the trees of the Veradeen.

Arbordale has a population of about 150, including those that live outside the village proper but still close enough that they are in town from time to time. The village is populated entirely by Dornish and Erenlander humans, with the exception of Miri, the halfling innkeeper. Miri has been left alone by the forces of the Shadow for two reasons...she is old and unable to serve as a slave and she is an excellent cook. Even the goblins and orcs that roam through town on occasion enjoy her cooking. Miri is none too pleased about serving their kind but she does so, only because it keeps her inn , as well as the town, from incurring the wrath of the Shadow's forces. The residents are very tolerant of outsiders and have even been known to harbor members of "outlawed" races.

The forces of the Shadow have no permanent presence in the village. Orcs and goblins pass through roughly every few weeks. The village has seen the occasional Legate but not frequently by any means. For the most part, the villagers are left in peace. The village is too small to be of any strategic value. Certainly it is close to the Veradeen but not close enough to be used to stage attacks on the elves...at least not yet.

Recently, rumor has it that the village is experiencing some rather peculiar problems. Peculiar because for 100 years, the village has mostly escaped the notice of the forces of the Shadow, remaining relatively peaceful. The rumors speak of several unexplained deaths in the last few weeks. Some obscure rumors label these deaths as murders. Who would be killing the residents of an unimportant village? And how are they escaping notice in such a small community? Several prominent villagers, including Miri, have put out the call for SOMEONE to come and help them get to the bottom of this mystery...

OOC: Okay folks, feel free to write your introductory posts. Those that are connected by their backgrounds can be together at the start if you guys want. Everyone can be assumed to have been operating in the vicinity of Arbordale at least for a short time and some of you might even have been to the village a few times, although not in the last few weeks. Rather than me forcing you all into the situation from the start, I decided to write the post and allow you all to decide what you have been doing in the area up until now. This makes it easier for you guys to introduce your characters to the story. Have fun and be as creative as you want as long as you all ultimately end up in and around Arbordale.

 

[maddmic]

Kuknar was puzzled by what the old man had told him the night before. He had stopped at a small tavern in a tiny town on his way west. Knowing that he had still not reached his destination, Kuknar was prepared to leave and resume his journeys when an old man sat at his table. In an almost inaudible tone, this man told him something very strange. "A town, west of here. An old woman looks for aid. It is the answer to the question that troubles you. See the sign and you will have truely begun your journey." With that, the old man got up and left the tavern. Kuknar sat and tried to make sense of what had been said.

Still on the road, he had seen no sign. It had been four weeks since the old man had filled his mind with more questions than answers. At dawn one morning, he came upon yet another town, but this time he heard a cawing and saw two crows sitting on a branch. One crow clearly had the eye of an orc in it's mouth, just waiting for it's companion to be distracted so that it could eat it. The second crow seemed a bit spooked and flew into the town and came to rest on the roof of an inn. Ensuring that the hood of his cloak was pulled up and his face was hidden, he began to walk into the town. Opening the door to the tavern, Kuknar looked around and then approached the bar.

There was nobody at the bar, but then a faint voice came from the kitchen area. "I'll be right out." Waiting patiently, Kuknar absentmindedly played with the orc teeth strung together with pieces of leather hanging from the handle of his axe. Not more than a minute later, an old halfling lady came out to the bar. "Welcome to Arbordale stranger. What can I get for you?" Kuknar was shocked to say the least. Clearing his throat he replied in a hushed tone. "Actually I believe that I have come here to help you." He then looks around and continues. "I don't have much to give you, but I would like the closest thing you have to a stout dwarven ale. It helps take the edge off of the cold."

OOC:
Kuknar will keep his hood up not revealing his race unless she insists. If she wants to see what he is, then he will be careful not to allow any others around to see.

Description : Dressed in typical leathers of a barbarian when weather allows it. Given the current situation, he is covered from head to toe in winter gear, including gloves. Kuknar's skin is almost gray, which betrays the fact that he's neither orc, nor dwarf. His facial features are also somewhat in between the two races with his lower canines not being quite as big as an orcs, but harder to conceal than typical dwarven teeth. His hair is shaved on the sides and back while long and mostly unkept on top. His beard while not as full as a dwarf is still long and only covering his chin. It is almost always seperated into two 6" strands. His short frame supports his mass with buldging muscles that would indicate he is a very strong individual.

edit: description added

 

[d20Dwarf]

With winter coming, orc hunting season was almost at a close. Although the brood of Izrador never stopped traveling from their northern home down to the war-torn edges of Erethor, the snows of winter made it too dangerous and difficult to pick off an orc or two and disappear into the landscape.

If only I could fly, Alhadriel thought.

As if stirred by that thought, Epherial took to his wings, obviously startled by something she had sensed. Alhadrial could feel the bird's nervousness and tightened his grip on the icewood between his hands. It had been eight hours or more since he waylaid the orc band that had been traveling along the edges of the Veradeen. He had slain them all from afar with his bow, but he could still smell their stench--as foul while they lived as after he had pierced their tough flesh.

The crows had been circling the bodies for an hour now, hoping to get one last good meal before winter descended. It took only seconds for his sharp elven eyes to lock onto what had spooked Epherial. A lone traveler, shorter than an orc but just as stout and wrapped in tattered winter gear, approached the site of his latest slaughter. Alhadriel tensed but did not move, hoping the traveler was not sympathetic to the Shadow. After a few moments the traveler seemed to take interest in a bird and move along.

He probably doesn't know that the crows make for bad eating, Alhadriel thought.

Epherial returned once the traveler was out of sight, landing without a sound on Alhadrial's shoulder. Alhadrial turned to leave, feeding the owl on his shoulder from a sack at his belt. The two would travel back to Veradeen now to prepare for winter--there was no more to be done here until the snows began to melt. Creatures from the Highhorns would descend during the winter months to plague the elven holdfasts, looking for an easy meal and the warmth of the homewood trees. There was plenty for an elf to do within the forest. But just then, Alhadrial heard a voice.

"Your work here is not complete," it said. "The traveler had the right of it."

Alhadrial's face would have paled had it any color.

No, he thought, it cannot be.

"Yes, Alhadriel," it said, as if replying to his silent musings. "Your people need you but your path does not lie in their direction. Go north and seek the tiny light within the darkness."

Epherial fluttered her wings, annoyed that her feeding had suddenly stopped and sensing her master's uneasiness. Alhadrial handed the snow owl another bit of meat as he spoke to no one in particular.

"Fifty miles from the wood, and I can still hear the Whisper..."

 

[Mirth]

Elidur stood in the ankle-deep snow watching the raven walk about on the roof of the inn. That short one certainly looked to be a dwarf underneath all that wrapping, but I've never seen one so broad before... And what is a dwarf doing so far afield from the eastern stonehalls? Looking up at the branch of the tree above him, he tikk-tikked softly and the other raven skipped down onto his shoulder, dropping its fleshy bounty into the Dorn's palm, the lidless black eye staring back at him. Cursing, Elidur squeezed his fist and relished the resulting squish before tikk-tikking again, sending the raven away towards its brother.

The Dorn scrubbed his soiled hand on the snow, then retrieved an apple from his saddlebag. Offering it to Calog, he reached up to scratch the grey horse's withers. "We'd best find out why we're needed here, I suppose," he mumbled as he gathered together the horse's reins. The loud cawing of the ravens drew his attention upward again, just as the alabaster owl alighted on another branch above and stared down at him.

So strange a sight was the owl during the daylight, that immediately Elidur knew something was wrong. Drawing his bow, the Dorn crouched beside Calog and scouted the area. It was only on his second pass that he saw the Erunsil staring at him a few yards away. The elf made a quick motion with his hand.

Snow sprinkled the Dorn's shoulder and hair as Epherial took to the sky once more and flew back to his master. Smiling, Elidur stood, slung his bow over his shoulder and moved his hands in return, [patrol sign] Greetings. Friend. [/patrol sign]

 

[Sir Osis of Liver]

Dane Swift

It had been a hard journey. He had nearly been captured several times during his escape. Then agian a couple days ago as he made his way slowly toward the elven lands. The only stroke of luck was that he did manage to liberate a decent horse and some heavy winter furs, even if they did stink of orc a little. The cold was begun taking it's toll. Both Dane and his mount were fading fast, he was sure this was the end. That's when he noticed the swirls of smoke raising into the air off ahead. The type of swirls made by chimey's, or at least in Danes exauhsted mind that was the only solution. Lucky for him he had stubbled blindly upon the town of Arbordale, one of the few places he might safly rest and recoup himself. After what seemed an eternity Dane dismounted outside what appeared to be an inn. Dane, staggering slightly made his way into the inn, going to the bar and leaning heavly apon it, he addressed the female Halfling behind it. "Good evening, Lady. It would seem i'm badly in need of food, rest, and a place for my mount. Unfortuantly all i can offer in exchange is to work off my debt. What say you, Lady?"

 

[Keia]

Darius finished tending the small boy, injured in his flight from a roving band of orc. “There,” he said to the boy, “be more careful next time, I can’t fix a broken neck. Now I’m certain your family is concerned for you, return home and let them see that you are well.”

Darius shivered in the cold air, realizing just how cold his body was now that he was done working. Darius had kept his scarf about him and was thickly bundled in winter clothes . . . or at least he was until he started tending the boy. His heavy winter coat lay on the ground with his gloves and undercoat on top. The winter clothing did make it much easier to conceal his race and appearance. It was just too constricting to work, I have to be able to move, Darius reasoned with himself. Nevertheless, he had to work quickly to bundle up again for Thrarn will be returning soon.

Thrarn, his friend and traveling companion, had scouted ahead, tracking the orc that had inadvertently causing the boy harm. Not that they wouldn’t have killed him if they had found him. But luckily, Darius, or more to the point Thrarn had found him and Darius had healed him – with ‘poultices’ of course.

As he bundled up, Darius thought it was odd to find yet another wounded . . . Darius had ranged far on this journey tending those in need, avenging those his aid had come too late for. The wounded were almost a trail in and of themselves. Darius had set out on this journey to gather some herbs that would not survive the winter to support his healing skills but had no real destination in mind. Someone or something had a destination in mind for him though . . . and I hope it has an inn because I’m freezing and need to thaw out before too much longer, thought Darius, awaiting Thrarn’s return.

 

[Thrarn Iranorn]

Pressing forward against the cold biting wind, Thrarn wheezed as the frigid air burned his scarred lungs. The pain made him think back to how his family was slain many years ago. Looking into the wind, a tear trickled down his face. Ever since he was badly burned, his eyes always seemed to water and the wind in his face wasn’t helping any. Squinting to see better he worriedly looked at the black dots in the sky ahead. It could only mean one thing with as many crows circling as he could see in the distance. Somebody or something lay dead on the road ahead and the birds were enjoying a meal.

Looking down at the fresh tracks in the snow, Thrarn uneasily crept forward. He could see four unique sets of footprints in the snow. The first two were somewhat old and were defiantly that if two Orc’s traveling together. The second was what appeared to be that of a smaller but fairly heavy man. Finally the last was the gangly Orc that he had been tracking for a short time now. Thrarn thought back to his friend Darius who was aiding a boy that the Orc attacked a mile or so down the road behind him. “What a fool of a boy out playing in the snow so far from his home. “ Thrarn thought to himself.

Fingering his nocked arrow, Thrarn pressed forward. Cursing the wind that stung his lungs and eyes as he tried to see what was ahead

It now looked as though the Orc was following its next victim. Hopefully he would catch up to it before it could make its move on the unexpecting lone traveler.

Entering a small patch of trees that the road passed through, Thrarn finally found what he was looking for. Ahead of him on the other side of the trees lay the bodies of two dead Orcs. From what he could see an arrow to each of their chest’s brought them down. The lone traveler stood over their bodies. Though he could not see anything, Thrarn also sensed something in the woods beyond the traveler.
But what he was more interested in was the Orc that was directly in front of him. It was hiding by a large tree and was preparing to fire a bolt from its crossbow as the traveler watched a pair of crows fight over an eye that they had pulled from the dead Orcs skull.

With careful aim, Thrarn drew back his mighty bow and let the arrow fly. The arrow struck the Orc in the back of the head, pinning it to the tree with a spine tingling *thunk*. The sound did not faze the strange looking traveler but the presence in the woods that he had sensed earlier was now made apparent. The flutter of the Snow Owls wings gave the position of the Elf away that was holding it. Thrarn now knew what killed the two Orcs in the field.

“Who were these two men?” Thrarn thought. “No matter, if they were enemies to him, the Orcs would not be in the condition they were in now.

Noting the smoke from a chimney in the distance and now feeling that there was no longer a threat in the area, Thrarns thoughts turned back to his friend Darius. With a sense of haste, Thrarn turned and quickly ran back down the road to find his friend once again. He would tell him of what he had found and hopefully they would be able to get out of this blasted wind if only for a minute or two.

 

[Toric_Arthendain]

The inn, simply called Miri's Place on the sign hanging over the door, was a large two story building, the largest in the small village. Inside, there was a common room that served as the only tavern for the village, a place to eat and for the locals to gather in. There were a dozen rough wooden tables scattered around the fairly large room. A bar, made of some exotic looking wood, stretched across the wall on the opposite side of the entrance. To the left of the bar was a large fireplace, with a roaring fire burning within. There was a single door behind the bar and a staircase to the right of the bar leading up to the second floor. No other patrons were present in the common room, possibly because of the early hour.

Upon seeing Kuknar, the elderly halfling woman approached the highly polished bar, a bit of a smile visible on her weathered, wrinkled face. She was easily pushing 200 years old and walked with a stoop, her ancient bones creaking audibly.

"Welcome to Arbordale stranger. What can I get for you?" she asked.

Kuknar was shocked to say the least. Clearing his throat he replied in a hushed tone. "Actually I believe that I have come here to help you." He then looks around and continues. "I don't have much to give you, but I would like the closest thing you have to a stout dwarven ale. It helps take the edge off of the cold."

"Come to help me, have you?" she asked. Not waiting for an answer, she turned to the large casks behind the bar. Grabbing a mug from underneath the bar with one gnarled hand, she proceeded to fill it with something from one of the casks. "This should be what you're looking for, stranger," she said, handing the mug to Kuknar. "The name's Miri. What should I call you?"

Before Kuknar could reply, the door to the inn was again thrown open and another stranger entered. The clean shaven man dressed in dark forest colors approached the bar. Ignoring Kuknar, he spoke to Miri. "Good evening, Lady. It would seem I'm badly in need of food, rest, and a place for my mount. Unfortuantly all I can offer in exchange is to work off my debt. What say you, Lady?"

Turning to Dane, Miri smiled. "Lady is a bit too formal," she said with a chuckle, "Please call me Miri." Again the gnarled hand produced a mug from beneath the bar and again she filled it, from the same cask that she had filled Kuknar's mug. She placed it in front of Dane. She looked back and forth between Kuknar and Dane. "You both know my name, what should I call you?"

Outside the entrance to the inn, Alhadrial and Elidur watched as a human, shivering with cold, tied off his mount and entered the building. As he opened the door, they both noticed the warm glow coming from within. That inviting glow was enough to spur both to get in out of the cold morning. The skies were cloudy and hinted that more snow was coming.

Miri smiled a knowing smile when Alhadrial and Elidur entered the inn. She beckoned both over to the bar to join the other two already standing there. Before either could say anything, she had produced two more mugs filled with the same drink she had given to Kuknar and Dane. Looking over the four strangers standing at the bar, she said, "Drink up. It'll warm your innards!" Looking at Alhadrial and Elidur, she said, "Miri is my name. What are yours?" she asked and then added cryptically, "Two more should be coming shortly."

As if in answer, the door was again opened, letting in some of the cold. Two more strangers entered dressed in furs, hats and other cold weather gear. Again Miri repeated the process of getting drinks and introducing herself.

Miri smiled once the six people were settled at the bar with their drinks. "Welcome strangers to Arbordale and Miri's Place. Know that you will have beds to sleep in out of the cold, food to eat and drinks to warm your bellies."

 

[maddmic]

Kuknar watched as man after man entered the establishment. He was visibly confused at the older lady's comments. As the two newest members entered, he thought to himself. 'Perhaps I am truely in the place I need to be and the first leg of my journey has ended.' Kuknar took a sip of his ale, hoping that it was something close to what he was acustomed to. Once Miri had welcomed them all, he decided to speak up. In a gruff voice, Kuknar began. "It is nice to find a friend so far away from my home. For that I am greatful Miri. My name is Kuknar and I have traveled far from the East. At one time I made my home in the mountains with my mother and uncle, however something that I cannot explain has led me here."

Clearing his throat and taking another sip of the ale, he continued. "I would normally not speak so openly in the company of strangers, but if you were waiting for them, then perhaps they have been brought here for the same reasons. I began this strange journey at the request of my mother. She told me that I should travel west and I would know that I had reached my destination when I saw a sign. Along the way I have encountered many things that I thought were strange including an old man who had assured me that I had not reached my destination yet. He also assured me that I would meet an older lady who required assistance. Upon seeing the crows outside carrying an eye of an Orc I felt a tug to enter this place, for I believe that this is my destination."

Seeing the different races assembled in the room, he felt that he was as safe from the shadow as possible in these times. Pulling back the hood of his cloak, he revealed his dworgish features. "As I said before, my name is Kuknar, slayer of Orcs, and member of the Durgis Clan. I hail from the Kaladrun Mountains to the east and I have come here to kill my father."

 

[Sir Osis of Liver]

Dane Swift

"I go by the name Swift, Miri. Thank you for the hospitality. In return i'll be happy to aid you however i may. As to my origins, for now let me just say i come from far to the south and my road has been a long one." Dane nods his head slirghtly and lifts his mug to the others seated at the bar before taking a drink.