Malvoisin's Slumbering Tsar Saga IC [PFRPG]

[HolyMan]

"A cold drink would come in more handy," the last member of the party says panting up to the rest of the group afoot. "And not water! I've had enough water to fill an ocean. Let's hope the ale at this 'Camp' is good."

The man in the full armor looks to be sweltering. His brown hair is matted to his face. A his untrimmed, uncombed beard, drips sweat down onto the front of his armor.

"By the gods it is hot! And none of you with a spell to help with this damned heat. I think it will kill us before any undead Vipe. And us without so much as giving it a fight."

He chuckles at some jest then let's the others in on it. "We can say the first casualty was my horse! HA!"

 

[Insight]

"All will be well once we are at the Camp," Zultaan says. "There's no point complaining about it."

"This Camp is used to accepting travelers such as we. I would not concern yourself with accomodations."

 

[rangerjohn]

Sebastian

Sebastian takes the man's hand, "many hands make lighter work, they say. I would be honored to join you."

 

[HolyMan]

"Not enough hands in the world to make this armor any lighter," Adalir says a grin on his face. "Let's go."

 

[Fangor the Fierce]

Krool shakes his head, noting that Adalir was indeed sweating like he was being boiled alive. "I find it bearable. I'm not sweating at all. Maybe it's your nerves getting to you? Haven't had a drink in a while now, right?"

 

[HolyMan]

Adalir smiles and holds out a gauntleted hand.

It holds steady and then with a grin he begins to shake it slowly at first then faster.

"A drink would do me good. Some good indeed!"

 

[Disposable Hero]

Gerard Brigain (Human Battle Oracle 7)

"Do you not carry a waterskin with you?" Gerard moves to where Adalir stands. "I carry two with me anywhere I go."

[sblock=Mini Stats]

Inititative: +4 Senses: Perception +8
Current Effects: None
HP: 58/58
AC: 25 (touch 14, flat-footed 23)
CMB: +13/+15 CMD: 22/24
Fort: +5 Reflex: +5 Will: +6
Move: 20'/30'
Weapon in Hand: +1 Guisarme

Consumables: Wand of Cure Moderate Wounds (25), Potion of Cure Light Wounds (4), Trail Rations (3), Tindertwigs (10)

0 level: Detect Magic, Ghost Sound, Light, Mage Hand, Mending, Message, Prestidignation, Read Magic, Resistance

1st level 6/6: Alarm, Charm Person, Detect Secret Doors, Expeditious Retreat, Grease, Silent Image

2nd level 6/6: Cure Moderate Wounds, Delay Poison, Invisiability, Levitate, Minor Image, Silence

3rd level 4/4: Cure Serious Wounds, Invisiability Sphere[/sblock]

 

[rangerjohn]

"Indeed I carry four, but then one of Lady Muir's blessings is making me a pack mule."

OOC: Ant Haul spell.

 

[HolyMan]

"Yes I have one," Adalir answer raising his half empty skin. "But I was referring to a drink with a little more head on it and bolder of body."

"If we ever cross the Desolation again, I'm bringing an ale train with us."

 

[Malvoisin]

Conversation dwindles down as the end of the long journey arrives at last.
The long, dusty road from Bard’s Gate has finally brought you
to your destination, a settlement on the very edge of the vast
region of ruin known as the Desolation. Before you sprawls
a pathetic collection of hovels that appear to be composed
of whatever materials happened to be lying around. Here, a
building that had an impressive beginning as a stone structure
peters out a few feet above the ground where its walls become
mud-daubed sticks with bunches of straw stuffed into the chinks.
There, wooden poles support walls of woven thatch and roof
that is little more than an old hay tarp patched in places with
tar. Beyond you can make out a ramshackle wooden structure,
obviously the scavenged remains of several merchant wagons as
evidenced by the axles and wheels still mounted at places on the
outer walls and the hitching tongue protruding above the lintel
and supporting a tattered awning.

The trail you are on proceeds straight through the center of this
collection of dwellings and travels on into the dusty wasteland
beyond, disappearing into the shrouding haze of windblown debris.
In the center of the settlement stands an old gallows hanging far
askew. A dark form turns slowly in the breeze, suspended from this
leafless tree. Few people seem to be out on the hard-packed streets
of this village, though you can see some activity to one side at an
area of pole-supported awnings that appear to comprise some sort
of shaded market.

Before you a scraggly buzzard perches atop an old plank sign.
Crudely painted upon this placard is simply “The Camp”.

Suddenly, the still afternoon is shattered by a great bellowing cry of rage!
From the north road charges a massive figure. Those few people on
the street quickly scatter at its approach. It is a hill giant covered in
dust and blood. A great spiked club swings in its hand. Its face is a
mass of recent wounds and horrible burns, perhaps caused by acid.
One thing is evident, though; the look in its eyes as they focus on
you is one of pure insanity.

OOC: What, you thought you'd get to wait a bit before the carnage starts? Initiative Order 18: Adalir 15: Viper 12a: Mel 12b: Krool 10: Gerard 9: Zultaan 7: Hill Giant 3: Sebastian