Ulorian - Agent of Chaos
Legend
After Dain's speech to the Archdeacon, Horsom bows respectfully and bids the holy man a good evening.
[Lakelands] Six For Adventure
- Thread starter Raven Crowking
- Start date
maddmic
Explorer
Kregor nods to Horsom. " I too had thought it would be wise to not put all of our eggs in one basket. I will ensure that each of us has some way of assisting another should the need arise. I would like to do this on the morrow as I have some things to attend to now."
He then turns towards the Archdeacon. Giving a polite bow, he ends the visit as he only knows how to. "Sir, I shall take my leave of you now. If the Mellorites are able to find something that would aid us, they may leave it with my things in the hostel. I have a few short preparations that I need to attend to prior to ending my day." With that he bows again and waits patiently outside the Archdeacons chambers for the dwarf.
Once he has been shown to his bunk, he places his mundain items on it and leaves the church.
He then turns towards the Archdeacon. Giving a polite bow, he ends the visit as he only knows how to. "Sir, I shall take my leave of you now. If the Mellorites are able to find something that would aid us, they may leave it with my things in the hostel. I have a few short preparations that I need to attend to prior to ending my day." With that he bows again and waits patiently outside the Archdeacons chambers for the dwarf.
Once he has been shown to his bunk, he places his mundain items on it and leaves the church.
After leading his companions to the hostel, Dain returns to his room. He removes his weapons and armor from the chest at the foot of his bunk. He lovingly polishes his armor and shield, sharpens his sword, daggers, and axes, and quietly chants prayers to Aedor. When this is done, he retires for the night and dreams of Tor-Angol beating a manticore into submission.
Raven Crowking
First Post
After leaving the Archdeacon’s office, a junior lay brother showed the company to the cells they would share. Unlike the well-appointed Archdeacon’s office, the cells were almost monastic, with little more than a rough wooden cot, a washing basin, and a chamber pot. Nonetheless, they would do for a night’s rest, and the thin mattresses seemed freshly stuffed and relatively bug-free. Indeed, some of the company had slept in much worse quarters. Among goblins, for instance, only those who ranked very high on the social ladder got their own quarters at all…
…Although, of course, once Glom’s particular talents began to manifest they offered him a certain type of social elevation that could be either a blessing or a curse. He was able to get a small room to himself partly because fear of his powers had elevated him in the tribal hierarchy, but also partly because most of the other goblins were afraid to come too near to him.
That evening, before they retired, the Sisters of Mellador arrived, bearing more than the Archdeacon had promised. Sister Folgarda offered them six bottles of a minor curative elixir, light green in color and clearly marked with the Mardoni “H” rune. She brought another three vials of a dark green liquid, marked with “M” runes that she explained were major curative elixirs. Finally, she brought six bottles of a pale blue liquid, unmarked by any rune, which were a general antidote for poison.
“You need use only a third of each potion,” she said, “to gain the desired effect. As Mardan guides your hand in battle, may Mellador guide your heart toward mercy.”
From the Temple’s provender, a crowbar, a grappling hook, 50 feet of silk rope, two short bows, and 40 arrows were also made ready. In the morning, they were taken to the Temple stables, where three mounted guides were waiting, along with two horses loaned from the Church, and a cart. Although it normally cost 1 silver piece per person or beast to pass the town gates, Brother Hengist – the chief of the guides – spoke to the guardsmen, and they were let past.
As with all towns, Selby-by-the-Water required a large area of farmland to support its population. Small villages, hamlets, and homesteads dot the landscape between the town and Weirwood the Great. Kell’s Reach is one of these – a small community centered around a stone mill. A stream, tributary to the Selwyn River, provides power for the millwheel to turn. The place does have a small church, tucked out of the way and somewhat rundown.
It is toward the rundown church that the guides lead you.
OUT OF GAME: Sorry, limited time. Will do more Sunday night.
…Although, of course, once Glom’s particular talents began to manifest they offered him a certain type of social elevation that could be either a blessing or a curse. He was able to get a small room to himself partly because fear of his powers had elevated him in the tribal hierarchy, but also partly because most of the other goblins were afraid to come too near to him.
That evening, before they retired, the Sisters of Mellador arrived, bearing more than the Archdeacon had promised. Sister Folgarda offered them six bottles of a minor curative elixir, light green in color and clearly marked with the Mardoni “H” rune. She brought another three vials of a dark green liquid, marked with “M” runes that she explained were major curative elixirs. Finally, she brought six bottles of a pale blue liquid, unmarked by any rune, which were a general antidote for poison.
“You need use only a third of each potion,” she said, “to gain the desired effect. As Mardan guides your hand in battle, may Mellador guide your heart toward mercy.”
From the Temple’s provender, a crowbar, a grappling hook, 50 feet of silk rope, two short bows, and 40 arrows were also made ready. In the morning, they were taken to the Temple stables, where three mounted guides were waiting, along with two horses loaned from the Church, and a cart. Although it normally cost 1 silver piece per person or beast to pass the town gates, Brother Hengist – the chief of the guides – spoke to the guardsmen, and they were let past.
As with all towns, Selby-by-the-Water required a large area of farmland to support its population. Small villages, hamlets, and homesteads dot the landscape between the town and Weirwood the Great. Kell’s Reach is one of these – a small community centered around a stone mill. A stream, tributary to the Selwyn River, provides power for the millwheel to turn. The place does have a small church, tucked out of the way and somewhat rundown.
It is toward the rundown church that the guides lead you.
OUT OF GAME: Sorry, limited time. Will do more Sunday night.
Ulorian - Agent of Chaos
Legend
"...and then the miller's daughter said: 'I thought you were bringing the applesauce!'" Horsom joined the Church's men only half-heartedly in their laughter at Hengist's joke. His thoughts were focused on his newfound brothers-in-arms. "Quite an eclectic bunch...", thought Horsom. "The half-orc seems very serious but amicable enough. Dain seems very straightforward and no nonsense... living up to his dwarven heritage! He'll be good in a fight. Fellan is living up to his reputation - capable and honourable." Horsom felt an especial comradeship, though, with Glom and Maldordo. Their innate quirkiness appealed to him somehow. He smiled warmly at the feeling of kinship he was developing for this group of adventurers.
Krug
Newshound
Glom was happy to have his own room. He used to have just a cubicle, and before his powers were anything, they used to stick him in a hole in the ground. If not for his mentor Skardiki he would probably have died in there, or stuck with a menial job hauling boulders.
He liked some of the others in the group. He giggled to himself as he sat in the room. He couldn't stop himself.
---
As the group made their way Glom shifted around. He looked at the church and shivered, hiding the motion beneath his robes. There was something eerie pricking at his senses; a dread chill. Something bad was going on in there. He clutched his staff.
He liked some of the others in the group. He giggled to himself as he sat in the room. He couldn't stop himself.
---
As the group made their way Glom shifted around. He looked at the church and shivered, hiding the motion beneath his robes. There was something eerie pricking at his senses; a dread chill. Something bad was going on in there. He clutched his staff.
Samuel Leming
First Post
For their trip, Maldordo decides to revert to his natural cat form. All the better to inconspicuously ride in the cart and take discrete cat naps while doing so.
Anticipated the need to communicate, Maldordo switches to human form before entering the village of Kell's Reach. Luckily, he remembers to jump down from the cart before transforming.
Anticipated the need to communicate, Maldordo switches to human form before entering the village of Kell's Reach. Luckily, he remembers to jump down from the cart before transforming.
Dain feels invigorated as he steps out into the morning sun. He is wearing his armor, highly polished and covered with dwarf runes and symbols, on the chest is a etching of the symbol of Aedor which goes unseen under his tunic. His shield, which is round and has his clan symbol (a snowflake on an anvil), is slung over his back. And Dain is bristling with sharp weapons. He wears a bandoleer across his chest that holds five daggers, he has a longsword across his back under the shield, and two throwing axes hang from his left side. Dain is carrying his pack in one hand, and is twirling Tor-Angol by its thong with his other hand.
He throws his gear in the cart, pats and talks to Anvil his mule before giving it a loving headbutt. Dain then climbs into his seat on the cart and produces his pipe, packs it with weed, lights it and proclaims he is ready to go.
As they travel down the road to Kell's Reach, Dain tells stroies of his days on The Hunt, being careful to leave out stories that include the destruction of orcs and goblins, and generally talks to his companions and gets to know them. He is amazed at Glom's story, he finds some understanding about why this goblin would venture amongst men. He finds Horsom's youth and energy invigorating, and Fellans wisdom and woodcraft reassuring. Maldordo is a tough on to crack, for he slept most of the journey, and on top of Dains pack. Kregor, while gruff and sometimes hostile, seems to be honorable which Dain finds pleasantly surprising.
Dain is glad to see Kell's Reach appearing on the horizon, for even riding a cart is an activity he seldom enjoys, though much more than riding a horse, and his back is stiff. He is looking forward to getting down and stretching, walking the streets, and sampling the local ale.
He throws his gear in the cart, pats and talks to Anvil his mule before giving it a loving headbutt. Dain then climbs into his seat on the cart and produces his pipe, packs it with weed, lights it and proclaims he is ready to go.
As they travel down the road to Kell's Reach, Dain tells stroies of his days on The Hunt, being careful to leave out stories that include the destruction of orcs and goblins, and generally talks to his companions and gets to know them. He is amazed at Glom's story, he finds some understanding about why this goblin would venture amongst men. He finds Horsom's youth and energy invigorating, and Fellans wisdom and woodcraft reassuring. Maldordo is a tough on to crack, for he slept most of the journey, and on top of Dains pack. Kregor, while gruff and sometimes hostile, seems to be honorable which Dain finds pleasantly surprising.
Dain is glad to see Kell's Reach appearing on the horizon, for even riding a cart is an activity he seldom enjoys, though much more than riding a horse, and his back is stiff. He is looking forward to getting down and stretching, walking the streets, and sampling the local ale.
Raven Crowking
First Post
Raven Crowking said:
Being springtime, many of the people living in the small community are out furrowing the fields with hand plows or yoked oxen. Where the fields have already been planted, children with slings keep watch for birds, which would otherwise steal the precious rye and barley seedcorn before it had a chance to sprout. The children, at least, have the time to stare as the group travels past on horses or in cart. What flocks these people have have been sent to pasture. Although you see an occasional herd of sheep on a hillside, they are kept far from the croplands.
Apart from the church and the mill, the settlement seems to contain nothing other than housing, pens, and sheds for animals. Most of the dwellings are along a single dirt lane. There are chicken coops in front of some of the homes. Small gardens for herbs or vegetables -- still far out of season -- probably account for some of the marked out places in various yards. Spring flowers have also been planted in front of some of the homes, giving the small wattle-and-daub dwellings a splash of cheery color. All the homes are thatched in straw; small birds apparently nest on some of the roofs or just under the eaves.
The church is dedicated to Amatheon and St. Clovis, patron of herdsmen. There is a smallish stable and dovecote attached to the church, though there are no horses in it. Brother Hengist takes takes the horses into the stable. Fellan accompanies him, to ensure that they are properly curried.
After a minute, a rather thin man comes out of the church. He is dressed in poor brown robes bearing embroidered images of grain sheaves. His hair is thinning, leaving him with a pronounced widow's peak high upon his forehead. "Greetings," he says. "In the name of the Seven Good Gods, I welcome you to Kell's Reach. I am Amalric, a humble servant of Amatheon who labors in His Fields. Come into the church. I was just about to eat my noon meal."
Inside, the church is no better than outside. There are several rough pews, but little sign that the area has received much loving attention of late. Amalric leads you to a small side room. He serves watery soup made from the marrows of old vegetables on a scarred wooden table. Although he has enough wooden bowls for everyone, he doesn't have enough chairs even with Fellan and Brother Hengist in the stables. With the soup, Amalric serves barley pancakes that seem far more passable fare.
"I am sorry for the lean table," the middle-aged man says apologetically. "We have fallen on hard times here in Kell's Reach. Attendence is up, what with that demon snatching flocks and folks, but donations are, if anything, worse."
Raven Crowking
First Post
Toric_Arthendain said:
Selanil woke in a cold tomb, long ago robbed of whatever finery it had held. Whereas he had fallen asleep on a soft down matress, he awoke upon a slab of stone. The rock beneath him was russet, as though stained long ago by blood...or Maeve's red mead.
As he rose from his cold bed, Selanil heard a clatter. A spear, apparently once leaning on the stone, had fallen beside him. A piece of lavender-hued gossamer was tied around it, near the bronze spearhead.
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