Shattered Sea Chronicles, Book I: Festival of the Dead

[EvolutionKB]

"Arrrr!" Redbeard screams as the jaws of the wolf clamp around his arm, nearly pulling him off his feet. That hurt real bad, he'd never felt that kind of pain before. Panic nearly setting in Redbeard glances around for the owner or at least somebody to help tame the beast. Redbeard then takes a step back, begins casting a spell, and then says "Protect me Polly, this beastie is nasty, lets see how he feels about fighting his own kind!."

[sblock=ooc]Five foot step back into open space, free action tell polly to move into square I just left and defend me. I drop entangle to start casting SNA I, calling a wolf.[/sblock]

 

[pathfinderq1]

- Johanna -

"Well lads...and errr..lass...I must be off about my own business in the city, yonder. You all can do as you see fit, till this evening. I'll see about getting rooms for us at the Granite Badger, which despite its silly dwarven name, is a good place to rest one's head."

With that, the tall, grey-haired captain strode off, heading into the city. The two Finnacar brothers exchanged a look, then looked at Johanna. One of them, it was hard to tell which it was, so identical they were, said, "Johanna, we're off to find ourselves some friendly company. Take good care of yerself. The last time we were here, the bards and singers and whatnot had some big pavilions over on the other side of this great mass of folk, if you are interested."

"Go and have your fun, then" Johanna said cheerfully, waving the brothers on their way. Then she turned her attention back to the scene before her. So this was Stonegate- she had to admit it was impressive. The largest settlement she had seen before now seemed like a rustic village compared to this place, bustling with the crowds here for the Festival.

She let the sounds of the city wash over her, closing her eyes for the briefest of moments. Yet another new experience- and the past few days had been full of new things as well. She had seen the "Oaks of Avonleigh", like she had heard of in Karjal's saga and she had seen an elven traveling retinue, like in Feybane's tales... And now, the city of Stonegate, in all the glory of the great festival lay before her.

'Onward, then!' She whispered those words to herself, and began to make her way into the crowd. The longspear in her hand, its tip sheathed in leather, made an excellent walking stick on the dusty roads of Avonleigh but it was a bit unwieldy in such a thick press of bodies. Luckily, though, even a crowd like this seemed inclined to give a bit of room for a tall, broad-shouldered woman wearing a sword that was nearly as tall as she was.

 

[Fenris]

- Broderick-
One such festhall, on the corner of Shield Street and Thane's Way, is a stone building, built with loving dwarven skill. The sign above the door, carved in the likeness of a small burrowing beast, spells out "The Granite Badger" Within, humans and dwarves sit at long benches, and smaller tables, drinking ale, eating, and laughing.

At one table, three dwarves sit. They greatly resemble each other, three generations of solid dwarven manhood. The oldest, with the look of a grizzled old warrior, puts down his ale stein, and looks at the youngest. "So, young Broderick. In only a few days you'll be tying your warrior's braid. Then ye'll be making yer own way in the wide world. What plans have ye got?"

Broderick puts down his tankard. His other hand had been toying with his beard. A habit he had developed over the last week in anticipation of his braiding ceremony.

"Nothing too firm yet. There be many opportunities fer a sharp lad with a sharper axe" Broderick replies with a wink. "For now, I will seek danger, and test my mettle, as father here tests his metal. I look to explore the ;land a bit. Maybe explore some of the southern mountains."

 

[Blarkon Dragonslayer]

"Arrrr!" Redbeard screams as the jaws of the wolf clamp around his arm, nearly pulling him off his feet. That hurt real bad, he'd never felt that kind of pain before. Panic nearly setting in Redbeard glances around for the owner or at least somebody to help tame the beast. Redbeard then takes a step back, begins casting a spell, and then says "Protect me Polly, this beastie is nasty, lets see how he feels about fighting his own kind!."

[sblock=ooc]Five foot step back into open space, free action tell polly to move into square I just left and defend me. I drop entangle to start casting SNA I, calling a wolf.[/sblock]

The wolf turns, snapping at the eagle, and taking a gobbet of flesh from the valiant bird, (-3 hp to Polly) This seems to enrage poor Polly, who rips at the wolf with her talons, circling above the wolf, screeching angrily, blood dripping from her. Not all of it, by any means, is hers.

In the next moment, another wolf appears, and leaps at the wounded wolf, snarling. It's jaws snap shut on the wounded wolf's throat, and it pulls the stricken beast to the ground, twisting its jaws back and forth savagely. There is a spurt of blood, and the wolf on the ground goes still.

The summoned wolf looks at Redbeard, its bloody jaws pulled back in a toothy grin, and then it is gone, in a fleeting swirl of grey fog.

 

[Imerak]

Larren shakes the cobwebs out of his head and stares up into the sky. Damn... was that always that bright?

He slowly sits up, reading over Thorentil's note. He grins and chuckles. "So he skipped town with that wizard chick? Oh well. Can't blame him, she was a looker."

Larren tries to stand up, but is thrown to the ground by the movement of the wagon. "Oh yeah. On a wagon going... somewhere. I don't suppose you know where we're going, doggy?" The hound dog looked at him plaintively. "Didn't think so. I'll see if here's anything up front."

Larren crawls through the hay and tries to get to the front, to see who's driving the wagon.

 

[EvolutionKB]

Redbeard

Redbeard slowly shakes his head. The world is a cruel place, wild animals are not meant to pets. Tis the cycle of life though. Redbeard kneels down to the fallen wolf, checking to see if it is still breathing. "Where would this beastie ave gotten loose from?" Redbeard asks an onlooker.

[sblock=ooc]Untrained heal check on wolf +3, does the wolf seem to be unconcious or dead? If closer to death than conciousness, then cure minor wounds to stabilize the wolf.[/sblock]

 

[Blarkon Dragonslayer]

'Onward, then!' She whispered those words to herself, and began to make her way into the crowd. The longspear in her hand, its tip sheathed in leather, made an excellent walking stick on the dusty roads of Avonleigh but it was a bit unwieldy in such a thick press of bodies. Luckily, though, even a crowd like this seemed inclined to give a bit of room for a tall, broad-shouldered woman wearing a sword that was nearly as tall as she was.

-Redbeard and Johanna-

The crowd indeed seemed quite content to part, in fact, it was a singularly well-behaved crowd, without too much of the drunken pushing and shoving a similar crowd of celebrating Jotuns might have shown. Assuming you could find so many Jotuns to put in one place. The fact that she was the tallest woman in the crowd might also have been a factor.

As she takes a turn through what appears to be a row of stalls selling foodstuffs in a bewildering variety, she is stopped, for a moment, by a press of bodies. She's taller then many of the men present, and she is able to see...well enough to see a red-bearded, leather clad man crouched beside what looks like a dead wolf, an eagle perched heavily on one shoulder.

As she studies the scene, she is shoved roughly from behind, pushed hard enough that, despite her size and strength, the only thing that keeps her from being thrown on her face is the crowd. "Watch it! Oh, sorry.." The people she is shoved into give her some odd looks, not used to valkyries in bear hide crashing in amongst them.

It is then she sees that what pushed her was a man who looks a bit like a bear, and who carries a spiked club of alarming proportions. Following him are two men of more conventional size, each carrying a shield and short spear. "Who is it that killed my wolf!"

Redbeard looks up from the very deceased wolf to see this mountain of a man rumbling towards him, brandishing the club like it was a stick. "You there...the fat man with the beard and the pigeon! Did you kill my wolf?"

 

[Blarkon Dragonslayer]

Broderick puts down his tankard. His other hand had been toying with his beard. A habit he had developed over the last week in anticipation of his braiding ceremony.

"Nothing too firm yet. There be many opportunities fer a sharp lad with a sharper axe" Broderick replies with a wink. "For now, I will seek danger, and test my mettle, as father here tests his metal. I look to explore the ;land a bit. Maybe explore some of the southern mountains."

"Oh ho! The boy plays with words! Perhaps we should send him off to be one of those elven bards, eh? More ale!" His grandfather laughs loudly, and even his father smiles. Then Rogun looks at Dunrick. "Is it time then?" Dunrick laughs again. "Aye, it's time. A bit of an evening's entertainment. Broderick, lad, why don't you leave your arms here with your dad, and step with me over to the pit?"

In the center of the Badger was a eight foot deep stone well, ten feet by ten feet. It was used, often enough, for those times when tempers ran too high. The rules of the pit were simple enough. No weapons were to be used, and hands must be bare. The last one standing was the winner.

As they approached, another dwarf came over, and lowered himself into the pit. Broderick knew him, it was Grerik Vorkaran, a young dwarf warrior who was one of the Thane's men. "Come down here, young Broderick...let's see what kind of a dwarf ye be!"

 

[Blarkon Dragonslayer]

Larren shakes the cobwebs out of his head and stares up into the sky. Damn... was that always that bright?

He slowly sits up, reading over Thorentil's note. He grins and chuckles. "So he skipped town with that wizard chick? Oh well. Can't blame him, she was a looker."

Larren tries to stand up, but is thrown to the ground by the movement of the wagon. "Oh yeah. On a wagon going... somewhere. I don't suppose you know where we're going, doggy?" The hound dog looked at him plaintively. "Didn't think so. I'll see if here's anything up front."

Larren crawls through the hay and tries to get to the front, to see who's driving the wagon.

The wagon is being driven by a hard-bitten looking sort, who glances back to see the cleric up and around. "I'm glad to see yer awake, young master. You had another hour before I pitched ye over the side and kept your possibles for me troubles. I was a bit surprised this morning when a man who'd drunk a bit too much paid me twenty gold crowns to see that you got to Stonegate safe and sound."

He looked ahead, and then smiled. "And seeing that we are almost there, its coin well earned. You'll like the festival I think. A young fellow like you might do well indeed."

 

[pathfinderq1]

-Redbeard and Johanna-

As she studies the scene, she is shoved roughly from behind, pushed hard enough that, despite her size and strength, the only thing that keeps her from being thrown on her face is the crowd. "Watch it! Oh, sorry.." The people she is shoved into give her some odd looks, not used to valkyries in bear hide crashing in amongst them.

It is then she sees that what pushed her was a man who looks a bit like a bear, and who carries a spiked club of alarming proportions. Following him are two men of more conventional size, each carrying a shield and short spear. "Who is it that killed my wolf!"

Redbeard looks up from the very deceased wolf to see this mountain of a man rumbling towards him, brandishing the club like it was a stick. "You there...the fat man with the beard and the pigeon! Did you kill my wolf?"

Johanna had the briefest moment of unease- this was trouble not of her making- and in her eyes, all but unnecessary to start with If there was one thing that you learned growing up in Jotun, it was that a dead wolf was nothing to cry about. For the most fleeting of moments, she wondered what the local customs might say about such a situation- but long thought and planning were no strength of hers. She had been shoved by her foster siblings before, and to let such a gesture go unremarked was unthinkable.

The longspear was worse than useless in such a press of crowd- she let it fall to the ground, and reached back over her shoulder for the hilt of her greatsword. She was still smiling, but now her grin had a fierce and feral edge to it. "Worry not about the dead dog, O brother Bear, but instead about your ill manners and clumsy gait." Her voice was pitched to carry across the crowd, and her Jotun accent was clearly audible, though the words were in the common tongue of Avonleigh. While she hoped this altercation could be resolved without violence, she would not hesitate if tempers could not be quelled.

OOC [sblock] Drop longspear, ready action to draw greatsword [/sblock]