D&D 5E EB's Keep on the Borderlands - The Lion's Den

Li Shenron

Lorelei quietly makes her way into the tavern. As typical of her, she tries to keep a low profile, half-hiding her face under the hood of her cloak. She'd usually watch and listen carefully at everyone in this sort of social situations, trying to get a glimpse at other people's personalities and learn their manners, but today her mind is distracted... she hadn't had a sign from her patron since this invitation to the Keep, and for the whole trip she's been having feelings that something's cooking. As Kordo Vas starts speaking, she tries to shrug off her doubts and take in every word she hears.

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Tassarion Liadon
Kendall Keep
Late Afternoon
Round 0

Tassarion slipped quietly into the Keep as he often did following his patrol into the wilds, hood up to hide his poison-scarred face, his keen elven eyes flicking here and there, missing nothing. He whispered a word and conjured up beautiful rose, dropping it, with a few coins, into the bowl of a beggar woman. She could likely sell the flower for more coin.

The quiet elf found himself a dark corner of the newly-christened tavern and ordered an ale to quench his thirst as he looked around at the gathering crowd, some townfolk, some adventurers newly arrived.

Action: (Extra Attack)
Bonus Action:
Free Object Interaction:

[sblock=Mini Stats]
AC: 15
HP: 37/37
HD: 5/5 1d10+1
Arrows used: 0
Action Surge (1/R)
Second Wind (1/R)
Arcane Shot (2/2/R): Grasping Arrow or Seeking Arrow


"I received no message. I'm here because I caught wind of the troubles in this area. I've been working border areas like this for years, helping keep the balance between people and nature.
But what of you? How did you survive...that day?"
"I had Squire Hydar and Squire Wevel to help me escape." Kordo says solemnly remembering those horrid events.

"I got out because the Golden Army wasn't looking for a snake in the grass. Speaking of which, Tureaud never collected his bounty for selling us out."

"Nay lad," the cleric says sternly. "We should wait to discuss this another time. In different company. Today is not the day to bring up such ill."


Noticing that some of the group has wandered to separate corners (Tassarion) or tries to disappear into the crowd(Lorelei), he speaks up.

Kordo Vas.jpg "Gather round, gather round." the cleric says not wishing to lose the attention of the group yet. "We still have much to discuss before we can turn our attention to food and merriment."

As he speaks he draws forth a map and starts to spread it across the central table.

OOC: Just a roll call for the rest of the company to post their characters are gathering around.
[MENTION=5044]Charwoman Gene[/MENTION]


EB's Keep on the Borderlands - RP thread

Darak sat with his back to the rest, sharpening his axe. His eyes were far off, looking somewhere in the distance, though the wall was only a few feet from the other side of the table.

When the call came to gather, he turned, looking for Slipper, the youth that had been following him around for the past bit. He liked the kid. Yes, he broke the law and was a thief, but Darak knew this was only because of the corrupt government officials, who drove people to steal for their food. Darak would be patient with him. He had to focus on those who are truly responsible.



Rorik road slowly along, his retainers walking, leading the stubborn mule that was the reason he couldn't go any faster. This bastion of civilization offered him what he wanted - somewhere to prove his mettle and make his own name far away from the fiery mess that was his parents life.

He'd long been away from them, but he'd only managed to drift from army to mercenary group to guard.

He made his way to the Lion's Den, his great destrier snapping at any who did not move out the way fast enough. Dismounting he went inside, leaving his squire to have the usual test of wills with Rorik's horse.

Looking around the room he says; "You must be the other guild members." there is an arrogance in his voice, but still some respect for what these men and women must have achieved to get this far. "Vas, I presume?" he asks the old cleric unrolling a map.


Kordo Vas gave the armored warrior an up and down look. "Well met," he says putting some weights on the edges of the paper as it tries to roll itself up once more. "I am Kordo Vas," he says with a nod. "And your the mage-knight, correct? Sorry I was given to many names when I inquired about you, sir. Something to do with the entourage you travel with. What is your name?"


Slipper watched as the array of more confident and much larger people eased into a comfortable banter with each other. He was once again thankful for Darak's comforting presence as few noticed the small boy next to the larger warrior.

As the cleric mentioned food, and ever the opportunist, he looked around for where he might be able to get some but it didn't seem like there was much on offer at this stage. With nothing else to do he nosed forwards to where the old cleric was talking about a map. As he rested his hand on the table he noticed how grimy his hands were in comparison to the others; some of these people were really clean. Embarrassed he moved his hand back, it probably wouldn't hurt too much to actually have a bath. Probably.



The dwarf barged up, plopped the Bronze Lion on one of the corners of the map, and began to speak ' Am..I...' he grimaced. It had been awhile since he used his people voice or spoke any local jargon.
'I am called forth, Üngar' he continued as he thumbed his chest, 'to service you' his eyes moving to meet each around the table. Before any could interrupt, he blurted, "My fear slew Cúthalion, as an elf, his life save for mine, I owe him the life debt, I give to this keeplord."

Looking around the others he raised his upper lip to produce his best greeting smile, the result was more of a wide eyed snarl. Turning to Rorik," you not survive long ou' ter, I smell your clean far down road' he waved his hand away for emphasis.

His eyes returned to Kordo Vas, " I am make them unclean, able to survive." he stated assuredly.


the magical equivalent to the number zero
Sahrax stands and observes the map displayed on the table. He nods, and looks at Kordo before noticing Slipper, almost disappearing in the shadow of Darak. The wizard had seen Slipper before, but had never exchanged words with the lad. Perhaps he should. But when he notices the filth on the boy's fingers, Sahrax decides today was not that day.

He frowns as Üngar speaks, recognizing the elven accent to the strange dwarf's words. The elf wizard has met a few of his fellow Lions before, but not this one.

"Aangenaam," he welcomes the dwarf in precise high Elvish, unlike the wood elven dialect. Then he switches back to Common for everyone's sake. "I have never heard of sylvan elves teaching their ways to non-elves before, nor committing their life for a dwarf."

There is no suspicion in the elf's voice, merely curiosity and a small measure of respect.

Voidrunner's Codex

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