(Casual D&D) A Game of Trust

[wings]

Easy.

(We aren't going to stop, not even go really slow. We are just not going to charge headlong to the town because, A) we are unsure, even tho Aerda knows the ring would probably tell him of danger, and B) it's a good way to make your horse break a leg. So, advancing, but not dangerously so.)

 

[Guilt Puppy]

As you approach closer, you can see better the situation: Hooded figures in grey cloaks flank the road to about two hundred feet from the gate, not too densely packed, but alert. Some are on horseback, bearing torches, lined up among the others at regular intervals. You can see other horse-riders at the city walls as well, patrolling in circles -- a few more standing, wondering, flickering in and out of shadow by the passing torchlight.

As you approach, the rider on the right comes forward a little, pulling back his hood to reveal a smiling, middle-aged face -- brown beard, close-cropped hair, and heavy eyebrows. (If anyone has Knowledge (local), or Knowledge (geography), or anything similar, feel free to make a check.) He looks you over briefly, then spreads his arm out, motioning you into town.

"Late arrival, travelers." His voice is dry -- he swallows. "May your stay here be kindly."

(Oh yeah, and some Spot checks please...)

 

[dpdx]

[D'oh! Crosspost!]

Fendric nods in salutation to the rider, and proceeds on his way into town. Surreptitiously, he tucks away his holy symbol, so as not to tip off the good intentions of the group. Fendric has an eerie feeling that this town has changed, somewhat, as if Thedoric had already been by to spread his seditious hatred of peace.

Fendric will free the off hand to reach under his armor and ready Protection from Evil, in case they've (rode) right into the middle of a sacrifice to Hextor or something.

[I'll see your Edit and raise you an Edit: Spot Check 8.]

 

[wings]

Well then

"Thank you, good sir." He doesn't bother pulling up his hood now, proudly displaying his fine elven features and long, pointed ears. He raises an arm as the hawk drops from the sky, landing with but a soft flutter, then crawling up to aerda's shoulder.

[EDIT- hmm! totally forgot about me rolls.
Knowledge Geography:2+6=8
Spot: 12 + 6 = 18
and i think that is all i have that applies...]

 

[Vexed]

:: Draven says nothing. He stares at the man, his face expressionless::

Spot: Total- 12

 

[National Acrobat]

As they approach the clack, Merrim takes her jester cap out of her pack and puts it on her head. The little bells jingle merrily in rythym with her mount's steps. She is quite curious about the town that they are approaching. Merrim starts humming a little ditty.

Spot 6-1=5

Knowledge Geogrpahy=19+3+2=24 (Finally, something that she is good at gets a decent roll)

 

[Uriel]

Has Geography Know, but I rolled a 7 ( still, a 14 total)
Spot was better, 16 total...

 

[Vargo]

Victus keeps quiet, content to let the holy man do the talking. This doesn't mean he shuts his eyes... The man who says less sees more.

Spot: d20:17+3 (wis)+2(elf)=22

 

[dpdx]

Fendric sidles Sunray next to Aerda's horse, and whispers to him in Elven: Did you recognize that man? Might that have been Brother Milos? I still don't feel safe here. Hopefully, we can find Brother Milos without any undue attention. Oh... I believe you have his letter, no?

Fendric casually glances around as he proceeds.

 

[wings]

He replies

... also in elvish, also whispered. "I do not know, but I think it would be best to ask a more nuetral party, like a tavern-keeper for Brother Milos's current residence. We don't know enough about these men atthis point."

[Edit: i was missing a y in symbol, for the font.]