Turmoil in the Golden Ring--A Slavic-themed game in the cold (IC Thread)

[Nac Mac Feegle]

Ivan Coldrunner, Slavic Ranger 3

Ivan grins as the music begins to play. "I'm Ivan. He says to his compatriots at the table.

 

[taitzu52]

Brata Scythor, "Slavic" Druid 2/Sorcerer 1

"Omens and portents, my friends, omens and portents. It is no chance that we find ourselves here tonight, asking ourselves the same questions. Have you not heats of some fell illness falling upon this land?", Brata says in hushed tones.

(OOC-Brata is a small, hard man. His skin is pale, but with a but of an olive tone to it. His brown eyes have a slight slant and fold to them, and he has a whispy goatee and moustache. Surely, the most he could ever grow. His hair is matted and locked, and he wears heavy furs over his small frame. He appears to be in his thirties.)

 

[Micar Sin]

Burian Slavochka Fighter/Druid

Burian grimaces slightly a Brata's words "I have, but ill omens are wrong as often as they are right. But I admit, unease as much as curiousity brought me here. He shifts slightly in his seat, watching the Skomorokhi for a few moments. I must wonder, now that I am here, what do I do? All I have heard so far are rumors and mutterings, like a group of old women at the well trading gossip
Perhaps he is right...these are obviously more than normal travellers. No solid reasons for being here, and et we all end up together..ominous...

 

[Ry]

"Hmmm." comes as a low tone from Cholodny, and nods slightly, musing with the others.

What are they talking about? Well, best to just shut up, and hope they need a fighter.

(OOC: Cholodny's not so fast on the uptake, and he really hasn't paid much attention to current events.)

 

[Yair]

Misha Yaroslav, Human (Slav) Paladin 3

"Unnatrual... things have taken the lives of many. I have seen their workings myself, and these are not idle rumours. I sought the counsil of many Volvhovy on this, but none knew the source of the rising darkness. All told me of the wisdom and holiness of Timofei of Vladimir; I hope he will have the answers I seek." He speaks in a hushed voice, so as not to upset the performence.
"I think you are right, Brata" he adds. "But I think it is a good omen. A sign from the gods, a good sign."

 

[johnsemlak]

Dm

The singer continues his tales of St. Demetrius, and tells of his battles with invading Frost Giants long ago.

It is now late, and it has been dark for some time. Early november, the days are already short. A steady snow has started, and a you can hear wind blowing outside.

The music is abruptly interuppted by a man who bursts into the inn through the main door. The person is middle-aged man in a fur coat with a large, thick beard. He is panting furiously and has apparently been running for some time.

Gospada! Gospoda!

I come from the neighboring village of Bogolubovo. Our village was raided by some foul creatures. They were like men, but bigger, and with the head of a wild animal. Our villagers managed to fend them off, but they headed to the Church of Mokosh on the Nerl River. Please, is there someone who can go to aid the Volhov there. I fear for her safety; there were several of these creatures and their strength may be beyond her powers. Please, someone, I beg you go to her aid!

The village of Bogolubovo is about 3-4 miles to the East of Vladimir. The Church or Temple of Mokosh the man speaks about is east of the village of Bogolubovo

 

[Nac Mac Feegle]

Ivan is standing even before the man finishes his message. As he finishes, Ivan turns to his tablemates.

"Well, newfound friends, let's be at this." With this Ivan heads for the doors.

 

[Micar Sin]

Burian Slavochka Fighter/druid

Burian rises smoothly, hooking his axe onto a belt ring and downing the last of his kvass. "I was looking for some excitement" He strides towards the door, less than a step behind Ivan.

 

[Nac Mac Feegle]

OOC: Note that at a hustle it will take about thirty minutes to arrive at the church with no subdual damage.

 

[Ry]

Cholodny, Viking Fighter/Barbarian

"Ha!" Cholodny yells - more of an exclamation than a laugh. He grabs the glaive behind him, and shoves forward to the doors, nearly knocking people over in his eagerness. Once outside, the glaive bounces from his right to his left hand, in his excitement to head towards a battle.