Misery in Mordent

[Snipehunt]

The appearance of light suddenly makes the group realize just how dark the town had been, and they note that the stars are hidden by dark clouds that leave the moon a pale glow that seems to generate more darkness by its faint light.

East of the town is a forest mixed with swampland. Fields of wheat and other grains spread East until they reach a small stream that seems to mark the end of civilization, as a trackless wood springs from the far side. From the high stands of wheat, barley, and oats, it must be near Harvest time. A chill breeze confirms that the weather has turned towards winter.

Several houses, shuttered for the night, and some small stores and other establishments dot the side of the trade road through town. A small road heads East over a stream, and another head west into the swampland. Light shines from cracks in the doors of two buildings, obviously taverns, although the doors are now shut tight. Some figures loiter in front of a shabby building at the far south of town, but the darknes makes it difficult to see exactly what that building is.

A sign at the crossroads to the South reads "Thristletown."

 

[Jarval]

The brothers slow to a halt from their previous dead run as the mists clear around them and the coach rattles off into the distance.

"Well, that was interesting..." Horatio states flippantly, trying to cover his worry for the kidnapped child. Osric grunts his agreement, gritting his teeth against both the pain from his leg and the ever more irritating itching from the sweat soaking into his padded shirt.

Noting the talking figures, Horatio quickly heads towards the horsemen, his brother pushing hard on his injured leg as he tries to keep up.

"Hello there!" Horatio calls out to the riders, trying to attract their attention. "Sorry to bother you, but myself and my brother seem to be a little lost. Would you be as kind as to give us directions back to the Temple of Kord?"

"In the city of Greyhawk, if either name means anything to you." Osric adds blandly, eyeing the odd garb of the two figures with some suspicion.

 

[Brother Shatterstone]

Sir Drevan Whiteshield: (Male/Human/Fighter 4/Knight of the Crown 4) and Cohort

Drevan guides the powerful horse up to the strange pairing of men looking to the right and left as he does so. Seeing nothing a familiar in the surroundings land and upon the horizon a small frown forms up his face, the frown looks natural and one can tell this face frowns a lot. When close enough he gives to two quick looks over before dropping to the ground to have a closer look still.

“Temple of Kord? I’ve never heard of a god by that name, nor have I heard of a city of Greyhawk.” He says the last part is if he’s trying it for the first time, slowly and surely. His keen gaze catches sight of the leg and he calls his companion, “Aesa, please would you see to his leg?” The redhead dismounts with a certain flair and her braided hair, more vivid from the oppressive environment, cascades around her. She smiles at the man in an attempt to show she means no harm.

“I’m not sure if your style of dress either… Where in Ansaslon do you come from?” The last question is said with a slight reluctance, as he's not certain what's going on.

 

[Jarval]

Osric looks vaguely vindicated by the man's words, while Horatio looks more than a little alarmed.

"You've not heard of Greyhawk?" Horatio says slowly, trying to keep his voice level. "Or Kord, you say?"

"Oh, don't seem so shocked." Osric sounds a little annoyed as he sits on the ground, glad to take the weight off his leg. "It's obvious we're not any where near it. Ansaslon's hardly a familiar name to us, now is it?" He smiles at the red-haired woman, glad that someone is paying attention to his pain.

"Fair point, fair point, but no need to be so smug about it." Horatio turns back to the man, re-evaluating the situation somewhat. "As my brother says, we've not heard of any country called Ansaslon, so it seems we might be more lost than I thought. I don't suppose you could tell us where we are? Oh, I'm Horatio Lackland, and that's my brother, Osric." He extends his hand to the armoured horseman.

 

[Snipehunt]

To be clear, everybody is at the same time and (basically) place. All of the PC's and cohorts can see each other - but they are in two groups.

 

[Brother Shatterstone]

Sir Drevan Whiteshield: (Male/Human/Fighter 4/Knight of the Crown 4) and Cohort

Drevan shakes the other man's hand strongly but friendly with a big smile upon his face, before to long his gauntleted fingers return to his thick mustache, something you had seem him absently doing earlier upon his approach, “Ansaslon is a continent not a country… Anyhow it’s an honor to mean you. My name is Sir Drevan Whiteshield, Crown Knight of Solamnia,” He turns to the side to allow everyone a better view of the redhead that is quickly working upon Osric’s leg, “and this is Aesa Frostdancer friend and confidant.” If possible she gives an even bigger smile but quickly bows her head and continues to work upon the leg. If your brother is fit enough to travel it appear theirs a village up head… Of course it’s never been there before nor does the land look anything like my native home.” He finishes the last thought with a small frown upon his face.

 

[Andrew D. Gable]

Ivar walks towards the newcomers, arms crossed in what could be an imposing manner, if he didn't otherwise seem bewildered. Taking care to step in a puddle so that the new arrivals could hear his approach, he continued striding forward.

"Kord. Good," he said as he stood over the cleric, recognizing some symbols on his clothing. "Greyhawk you say? Ivar from Greyhawk, too." He then looks at the knight. "Never hear of Ansalon, though."

 

[Brother Shatterstone]

Sir Drevan Whiteshield: (Male/Human/Fighter 4/Knight of the Crown 4) and Cohort

Drevan looks up at the creature with a slight like he’s never seen one before, “Ahhh well they sure build them big in Greyhawk, huh?” he gathers his wits quickly enough and turns to his horse. He makes clicking noises to it and pets it softly around his ears. “Aesa, is it my turn to care for the horses or your turn? Her smile and laughter fill the air as she replies; “Drevan you know the answer to that, besides the horses like me better anyways.” Driven canning the town before turning around to the others to address them, ”Well what tavern shall we aim for? Their seems to be a few at least one has to have decent food, right?”

 

[Snipehunt]

As the Drevan, Aesa, Horatio, Osric, and Ivar speak, they see two men leave a small guardpost hidden in the forest to the North and start towards them. Both have muskets - the one on the East with his musket shouldered and carrying a lantern high on a stout stick in his right hand, the other with his musket lowered. (OOC - 40 feet north of you, off the map)

Karthak and Baldor see two more men walking North towards the , obviously just leaving the Pewter Mug. Both also hold muskets, and one holds a lantern in his hand, raised high. Stern expressions are on their faces, and their sharp eyes are focused on the two travellers who are barely illuminated in the lanternlight. (OOC - 60 feet south of you when you see them)

The soldiers from the North shout out "Who goes there?" Those from the South shout "Who disturbs the peace of this town?"

 

[Mithreander]

Baldor, making his way to the other group in a stride that's self assured. He answers the guard enquiring about the peace of the town. "Worry not 'bout us. We mean you or your town no 'arm. Now put down your staff. Call be Baldor. I be a weaponsmith and armorer. Me and me fellows were just on our way for a drink." He points to the nearby tavern and then continues.

"But it seems our friends 'ave fallen be'ind." The dwarf, reaching the sitting injored man, four horses and three others says "What say you? That there place look good for some ale?"