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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Steverooo" data-source="post: 1083300" data-attributes="member: 9410">KARL MEETS SORROW:Karl decides both a carrot and a stick are called for, in this situation: "Hey, nice armor, stranger!" He ignores the Elf for a moment, looking at his horse "Nice animal, too." Karl tries to see if he can tell how far the beast has been ridden, but rolling 83 against Chivalry, fails it. The elfkin dips his head, a slight nod, and perhaps the faintest trace of a smile... but not much, if there is one. "Yours, too, Lord... although I don't recognize the livery." He shoots another glance at your horse. "I prefer Chargers and Coursers to Destriers, myself. They are not quite as heavy in the charge, but they are faster." He shrugs. "The old "Strength vs, Speed" debate..." While the Wylf speaks, Karl grabs the rope and pulls the water bucket from the other side of the well (Tactically, he can always dodge behind it, if arrows start flying - the well that is, not the bucket)! As he lowers the bucket into the water, Karl looks up... the Elf hasn't moved... and asks: "So, how's the water? Any good?" The Elf holds up his right hand (the other one still holding the bow and a buckler, forefinger keeping an arrow on the string), and, holding the hand a bit above waist-level, even with the horizon, quickly rotates it thumb-up, thumb-down a few times... "Okay." is all he says. Talkative type... "Have you been in this town long enough to find the inn? My companion and I have hopes of visiting a bed this night and leaving the cold ground for the less fortunate animals." Karl smiles. "Nay, naught but a little while, nor would I have entered it at all, had I seen it before I rounded the bend, or had the well been on the other side. Probably that..." he points, "...or that" he points to the other side of the street (does Karl turn to look?) "...is the Inn. Mayhap the other is a Tavern." Every time he points, the bow moves... Never TOWARDS you, though... YET! <VBG> If the Wylf's bow moves a degree away from the ground and toward me, I say, "You'll have no need of that with me, I assure you. I am not your enemy. But if you use it, don't miss. I have a bad attitude about such things."                     (Understood, but it hasn't happened, so far). Looking at the Wylf from close range, Karl can see that his little buckler is either damaged, or modified...  There is a large spike and a small hole in it, as well as a slit that goes almost to the center... There are also some hooks on it, that look somewhat like a torch holder on a castle wall. While all of that is going on, several things are happening behind Karl: There are sounds of heavy footsteps moving away from him at a slow, steady pace, a door slamming and feet running down the street away from him, and the clopping of a horse's hooves by the stables... Does he turn his back on this armed Wylf to see the Inn/Tavern, or take a look at what's going on around him? Or does he keep his eyes on the Wylf and avoid looking at the goings-on behind him, since everything seems to be headed away from him?                     Hmmm! What to do, what to do...                    KARL MEETS SORROW, 2:Karl tastes the water without taking his eyes off the Wylf. He looks from the warrior's eyes down to his weapon and back to his eyes and then slowly lowers the cup."I must say, you have a very good relationship with that weapon."The wary Wylf gives you a consternated look, which Karl interprets as "Stupid Human!".Karl continues to speak calmly as he turns to look back over his shoulder."It must be wearisome holding it always such. Or do you know something about this little town that I don't?"Karl does his best to listen for the sound of the weapon being raised, but uses his eyes to scan for the sounds that he most recently heard behind him. If he hears nothing from the Wylf, he will turn back to him smoothly when he has assessed the situation behind him."Only that there was trouble on the track to the north, two hours or so ago, as I was riding in," the Wylf replies, "...and that 20 or so Humans were chasing a barefoot Kobold who went off the road to the east, and didn't come back.  The rest of them re-crossed the road a few miles north of here, and the Kobold, apparently, came into - or through - this town, just before I did." he says, trying to see around you, but failing.   [Karl doesn't hear a sound, and dies in silence, pierced by an arrow from the cruel Wylf's silent bow... game over; you lose!  (No, just kidding, and inducing some healthy paranoia).  <G?>]   Actually, he turns and sees a huge, hulking ogrish being, a pretty young Ilf-girl, and a little green-skinned kiddie going around the corner of the stable barn, turning east.  He can still hear the sounds of the horse, fading away, but doesn't see one.    The heavy footsteps must have been the ogre, the running feet one of the other two, trying to catch up to him (which they have now done).  You get about a two-second look at their backs, before they go around the corner...  (I'd describe them better, but somebody hasn't done their equipment lists, yet, so all I can tell you is that the child has on dark, dirty clothes).    Now what?                    The OX's TALE CONTINUES:  Ox crashed back into the underbrush, dragging Buford, his trusty mule after him.    "Hey, WAIT!" the pretty little Ilf girl called after him, fumbling with her gear.  Ox slowed down... just a tad... knowing that any fool could tell which part of the underbrush he'd crashed through.  He knew his trail wouldn't be too hard to follow.  Besides, he didn't relish another night under the stars, here in late fall.  He pulled his dark cloak a little closer around him, lookedback to check on the girl (and get his bearings) and then crashed on.  This was SE... wasn't it?                     CARILLA's TALE CONTINUES:Grabbing her gear (which was fortunately pretty light, since she'd been out hunting when she encountered the brigands), Carilla hurried to the rip in the undergrowth where the big Oaf had made a hole, and peeked in...  No sign of him, but the trail was clear... as were the sounds coming from that direction.  Moving at a stealthy trot, she set off after him, hoping he was the friendly type, and knew where he was going.    "I hope those brigands have gone to lair, by now." she muttered to herself, looking at the westering sun.  "I'd hate to have to kill them all, this late in the day!"  Looking down at the ground, she thought "At least I won't have to worry about losing the trail... and with that noisy Oaf leading the way, I doubt I'll have to worry any about running into anything, either...  He'll flush'em out, for me!"    She ran for a bit, catching up somewhat, and soon saw the edge of the woods.  Farmland stretched out before her.  Civilization!... of some sort.  The Oaf continued at a run, heading for a small collection of rude buildings.  Coming to a track, he headed south down it, stopping in between a couple of large buildings, looking confused, looked around, then pulled his mule into one.  Walking down the track towards the road, Carilla smiled, imaging the occupants' reactions to THAT!    Taking in her surroundings, she noticed a well, what appeared to be a general store or traders', a building that was (by the smell) either a brewery, a tavern, or both, and what she assumed must be a rude country Inn.  Thinking of a room, a long, hot bath, and a warm bed (sans the bugs!), she headed for the latter...                     A RYE GETAWAY - NOT!     Outpacing any pursuit, the little kobold made it to the door of the large, public building - apparently some type of store from the dried goods arrayed out front - and through the door before the horseman could turn the corner.  Catching the door on the inside, he eased it shut.    Looking around, he saw the usual General Mercantile and Traders' goods - nothing worth stealing, cash box included, no doubt.  Definitely a hick town, full of rubes.  A good place to hide out, assuming the brigands didn't come here.    He sauntered over and looked through the candles, surreptitiously eyeing the bald-headed shopkeep.  Kachas tried to figure out what race(s) he was, but couldn't tell...  Part human and some dark alfar, maybe?...  Oaf?  Orc?  Maybe both?  He couldn't say.    Eyeing all the exits, and keeping an ear pealed for sounds outside the door, Kachas relaxed as much as possible.  He noticed the curtain to the back room rustle, even before it opened.    "Greetings, stranger!" said a portly, bearded human.  "You're new in these parts!  What can I help you with?... or are ye seeking me?" asks the portly man, dressed more like a country squire on a hunt that a shop-owner.  Kachas waved his hand.    "Nay, nay, just passing through, friend!" says Kachas, not liking something about this likable fellow's too-brilliant smile and eyes.  Kachas had a bad feeling about this...    "Potts' the name!" said the stranger, proffering his hand, "What's yours, stranger?"    "Nemian," Kachas lied, "Nemian Ibsquilish.  Pleased to meet you."  He shook the man's hand, then quickly  dropped it.  Maybe it was time to move on.    "So, what brings you to our fair acre?" Potts asked, grinning like a ghoul, Kachas thought.  Looks like there'd be no getting away without a conversation...  Giving up the idea of Shadow Bolting thestore-owner and running off with the till, Kachas put on his most charming smile, and resigned himself to it...    After five minutes, or so, he felt himself fall over, and wondered what was going on.  He hadn't drunk all day!  When he came to, he saw himself grinning at him, as he went out the door.  He groaned, and shut his eyes tightly.  Something was very wrong, here...                     TOW's TALE TWO:   Tiredly, Relgan Tow, the Esquire who would be a Knight, followed the sound of the blacksmith's clanging hammer into the smithy.  He stopped to bang on the door, then entered anyway, figuring the smith wouldn't be able to hear him over the sound of his own hammer.  The lack of wind, and the heat of the forge, were quite comfortable, after a day spent in the wind, and the smell of charcoal was making Relgan hungry.  He hoped stabling was available, so that he could get some food and a room...    The smith was an odd little... man.  Half-man, actually.  The other half was apparently Dwarf.  He'd gotten the worst features of the personalities of both, it seemed, but Relgan took it as a challenge to be Chivalrous to the uncourtly, and inquired about the stall fees, feed, courrying, and such like.    The smith's eyes seemed to reflect the fires of his forge, as he talked to Relgan.  Relgan was already wearied from his cold, and many long days' hunt for a beast, and began to feel very odd.  Finally, he seemed to swoon, and had a very odd feeling of looking up at himself, as he lay by the forge.  He felt he should get up and tend to his horse, but somehow, he just didn't seem able to...  Finally, he succumbed, and slept; if sleep it was...                     MORE OX TALES:   Blundering out of the underbrush onto the track, Ox looks south to see the town of Forlorn Corners, at last!  He heads into it, stops briefly to look around, and heads for the building that looks most likely to be the shrine, pulling Buford behind him.  The door to the building is open, so he ducks on in.    A fairly good-sized room meets his eyes, lit by the light from the door and several dark tapers dripping wax onto a table at the far end of the room.  A small altar to the left with some sort of figure on it... and a robed Priest!  Forgetful of his mule, Ox rushes forward, dragging the beast through the doorway...    "Greetings, child," says the tall, robed figure, in a melodious voice, "Have you seen a wheel of flame in any recent night visions or dreams?".    "Huh?" says Ox, unprepared for such questions.  "Uhhh...  Nope, I don't think so." he says, scratching his head, trying to remember...    "Have you heard the tale of the Princess who was Stolen?" asks the priestly one.    "No, I haven't, is it a good one?" asks Ox, growing interested.  Is it story time?  This is better than he'd hoped!  The Custodian sighs.    "Your donations will be blessed, my child." he says, motioning towards the altar as he turn away...    So does Ox examine the altar, donate some coin, or do something else?  Tune in next week, when you'll hear our hero say: "Dey!..."                     CARILLA CARRIES ON:   Making her way through the town (if one could call this crossing of dirt tracks a town), Carilla heads for what she hopes is an Inn.  Crossing the track to the East side, she hears the ringing of a hammer.  Approaching closer and peeking through the door, she can see that it's a smithy, instead.  Disappointed, she turns back, recrossing the track to the west.    Approaching the booze-smell of the other building, she decides it's the only other game in town.  She opens the door and walks in.  Several doors, a counter/bar, a serving wench, a few local ruffians, and the apparent proprietor meet her gaze, as she waltzes through the door.    "Greetings, missy!" says the average looking barkeep, in his leather apron.  Brown hair, eyes, skin, and apron... a true brunette, she thinks, eyeing him and then the ruffians.  "What can old Buck get you?"    "A room and a bath, perhaps?" says Carilla, flashing a smile and hoping.    "Why, certainly, my dear!  Right this way!  Come on in out of the cold.  How about a drink to warm you up?  Nothing but the best at the Wild Hare, y'know!  Best drinks in town!" the manenthuses.    "The ONLY drinks in town!" Carilla thinks, but follows him in.  "Nah, maybe later," she replies, "for now, just show me the rooms!"                     STILL YET MORE OX TALES:Ox looks again at the small altar and repeats to himself the priest's words,  "Your donations will be blessed."That's a lesson! He began to understand. Understanding bloomed in his big, mostly-empty skull like a warm light. His long search was over. Here, in this little town in the middle of nowhere, he had found a priest willing to teach him what it meant to serve God. He dropped Buford's reins and headed for the altar. Buford stared after him for a moment before bending to nibble at the base of a pillar.   The shrine is about 24 feet high, with an internal ceiling of 20'.  It is 40' long by 20' wide.  The door is to the south, the stone-topped table with the candles to the north, altar on the west wall, and a drab wall hanging takes up the entire east wall, and wraps around a bit to the NE side.  There are eight pillars supporting the 20' high ceiling, four on a side, forming a central aisle.  There are no pews, nor other furnishing.   (If Ox wants to examine anything, let me know what.)   The shrine's interior is windowless and dim.  Ox crosses the 10' central aisle and approaches the fane.  Its main feature is in the center, almost touching the west wall; a cube of chalcedony, three feet on a side.  Atop it, seemingly carved from some excrescence of the mineral below, is a basalt-like protrusion chiseled into the shape of a four-headed goat.  This figure rises two feet above the pale stone.   To either side of this carved figure sits a rust-red bowl of stone, one foot in diameter, and a similar cup of about one-quart capacity.  All are empty.   Behind the altar is a wall niche one-foot deep, about a foot and a half wide, and three feet high.  It is empty, but it seems to have been designed to contain some holy statue.  On either side of the niche (at about two feet distance) is a cresset set into the wall.  These wrought-silver lamps are dark and corroded, apparently not having been used for a long, long time.Ox fell down onto his huge knees in front of the small altar and bowed his head. Warm tears welled up in his big eyes, which he rubbed away with a fat finger before raising his hands in prayer. He remained like that for some time, trying to form words in his mind that could convey to his God how happy he was for being drawn to this place.At last, he struggled to his feet and placed one big hand, palm down, in the center of the little altar. His offering was prepared.He turned and called to the robed priest.   "Hey!" said Ox, turning around, to find the cowled Custodian standing quietly, watching him.Ox is prepared to offer his life in service to the church and God, but as he stands, he looks again at the block and goat-headed thing in front of him and his previous line of thought is lost.He turns to face the cleric and asks, "What is that goat-head thing, anyway?"   "Would you like to see?" asks the Custodian, drawing the cowl down from his brick-red hair and pointy nose and ears...  "Yes, I think you'll do...  I think you'll do just fine..." he says, eyes burning.   Ox feels something funny happening, and that it's not a good thing...  He overbalances, and falls over backwards, bumping his leather cap on the altar block as he falls.  Feeling like a Major Oaf, Ox mentally makes a note to increase his dexterity... just as soon as he wakes up...   Lights out...(Oh no!!! I'm getting the bad feeling that something is rotten in Forewarned Corners!Don't worry, I'll generate characters more quickly for the next game -- after all my characters die!!!!Arghhhh!)   [Ox aint dead, just tell me what he does when he wakes up...](Oh, good. What does he see when he wakes up, besides his mule, I hope.  <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" />)   Ox wakes up to see that it's evening, and the shrine is empty, except for him.  No sign of any four-headed goats, the Custodian, nor his mule...Ox wakes up and rubs his head.    [As he does so, he notices that his cap is gone, and his hood is up.]He tries to determine how he feels (rested, like he's been beat up, like he just laid down).    [He doesn't feel himself, somehow, but isn't sure how.]He looks around for the block and goat-headed thing.    [The altar is right where it was, behind him.]Can he remember anything else that is different about the room now than it was before?   [Other than the missing custodian and mule, no...]"Bew-Ford!" he calls.   [In vain; there is no answer, as he sits on the floor, in the growing darkness...](Hood? Ox is wearing a hood?)[Yes, he is.]                    GETTING IT TOGETHER:   (Ox checks to see about this hood. Is he now dressed like a priest!? If so, he will dance around for a little while thinking that God has granted his wish to become a priest but then will get a very bad feeling and search around the place for the other guy and his donkey(mule).)   Not remembering having a hood on his cloak, Ox reaches up and scratches his head, which feels weird, somehow, but isn't sore...  He looks around for his missing cap, but doesn't see it... just that four-headed goat thing looking at him...  As he does so, he notices that his legs seem smaller, where they stick out from underneath his robe...   Robe?   He looks down at himself.  His travel-stained clothes are gone, and he is dressed in a robe and sandals...  Like a Priest!  Elated at the thought that God has heard his prayer and accepted his sacrifice, Ox clambers to his feet and dances a little jig, raising his arms and face to heaven...   Then he notices something very, very odd...  His nose is pointed!  This is a frightfully stunning revelation to Ox, because he had always had a very long, large, beaked nose.  He brings his hands up to his face, and notices that they are not the thick-fingered hands of a mighty Major Oaf, but skinny little sticks, too small even for a Human!   Feeling his face doesn't bring any better news, either...  His face is fat, his nose still long, but now thin and pointy... as are his ears!  His mouth is small and thick lipped, with lower canines extended, and his hair is short and bristly.   Looking up at the ceiling, Ox intones:  "Uh, God?...  You didn't have nothin' ta DO with this, didja?"  He stands waiting for a moment, but there's no answer from above.   "I didn't think so." says Ox, bowing his head and staring around the empty shrine.  "Now where is that Priest?"   "OH BROTHER!" he bellows, heading for the door.  "BEW-FORD!"...Carilla:   (She follows the guy into the back, but is very wary. She knows how guys get when they see a pretty Ilf, and this guy seems awful happy for a barkeep in a backwater town like this. She plans to make sure this doesn't happen, perhaps a little Charming will come in handy. She'll get herself ready, just in case.)   Carilla follows Buck through an archway into a small hallway...  She notices the doorway at the other end, as well as doors to a dining room, and the kitchen.  Buck turns left, heading up a short flight of steps, leading up to the floor above.  There, a window faces north, and a hallway divides several rooms, with another door down to a flight of steps exiting the west side of the building, and at the opposite end of the hall is another stairway up.   Wiping his hands on a rag the whole way, Buck tries to chat her up, telling her the location of the outhouse, that every room has its own chamber pot, what the rates are, how good the food and booze is, etc.  He seems content to do all the talking, if Carilla doesn't care to chime in...   Carilla thinks to herself that he could be a useful source of information... if there was ever anything about this hole-in-the-wall town that she ever wanted to know, that is!  He does seem just a bit TOO happy to see her, however, so she stops him at the door of a room, asks to see it, asks if they're all the same (he assures her that they are), and as she is looking around, she spends the 12 second required to form the psychic link between them that Charismatic Charm requires.   Turning back to him, Carilla works her wiles.  Buck easily slips under her influence, being basically friendly, and without the stress of combat to give her trouble.  She watches his eyes as the pupils grow larger; he likes what he sees.  Gotcha!  She smiles down at him...   "You know what I'd really like right now, Bucky?"   "No ma'am, what?"   "I'd REALLY like to have a nice, LONG nap, without being disturbed!"  She puts one finger under his chin...  "Now do you think you could arrange that for me, hmmm?"   Buck nods agreement, and hastily turns down the bed, then (stopping to collect the room rent) heads for the door, looking back at her sweet smile.  Carilla waves bye-bye, and then closes and bolts the door behind him.   Dumping her gear and removing her boots, Carilla stretches out on the bed.  Boy, that Charm must have taken more out of her than she thought...  Suddenly, she's feeling rather woozy...  She closes her eyes.   *ZONK*  Lights out!Karl:(Having refreshed himself and made small talk, Karl decides to go for broke with this guy.)   "My name is Karl Belford. I am on a quest in these lands...or was.  I'm making my way home for the winter. This is as far as I'll go tonight.  We'll be having dinner here soon. You're welcome to join us. I would like to hear of your travels in these parts."   Karl ignores the stuff about trouble on the road, earlier, not wanting to set out in the growing twilight.  Here he is, and here he'll stay.  The Wild Elf glances, again, at his livery, apparently able to see it clearly in the dimming light.   "A quest, eh?  Going home for the winter?"  The Elf shakes his head. "Nay, I don't think I'll be spending a night in a Human town, thank you!  Not unless the world changes!  You Humans all want money for everything.  I'm surprised they don't have a sign on the well, `One copper per laddle-full'!"   Karl notices some odd, parallel scratches on the Elf's breastplate, as he listens to the answer, and squints at it a bit more.  Four rows of curving, parallel marks... like claws.  There are some other odd marks, too...  Karl uses his Hunting skills to see if he can figure out what could have caused them, and determines that the claw-marks are probably from a good-sized brown bear...  The other odd markings he doesn't recognize.   He starts to wonder where good Squire Tow is, and what could be taking him so long with his horse.   As he's wondering, however, he hears someone yelling from somewhere behind him:  "OH BROTHER!" the melodious voice bellows, "BEW-FORD!"...</blockquote>

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