Scotley's 4e Swashbuckler

[Scotley]

Spring was in the air. The weather was warming and clear. Several of the Hounds jumped at the chance to take a group of tired old horses from the stable out to a horse farm belonging to the order. A group of young horses was ready to be added to the stable. After the hard winter the countryside was said to be restive and it would not do to have the horses lost to yokels turned bandit.

The journey to the farm was uneventful and the afternoon was spent in a successful bit of fowling. Tales of the hunt grew as the evening's drinking wore on. Though a bit cramped the farm provided adequate lodging.

After a hearty breakfast the Hounds set off for the city with half a dozen grooms and two dozen fresh horses. The cold pheasant, some soft ripened cheese and a few bottles of wine from the farm would make a welcome picnic for the return trip. Even the Horsebread from the farm, a peasant bread made with oats and legumes as well wheat and rye, was a pleasant change from the Baguettes supplied daily to the Hounds by the Royal bakery. The sun was mild and warm and roadside flowers were beginning to bloom. The Hounds fell to companionable banter as they rode. Except for the some rather muddy stretches, the journey was one worthy of setting to verse.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. As the amiable companions topped a rise the sounds of a barking dog could be heard ahead. Then more alarmingly, a feminine voice crying out for help reached your ears. A moment later a plump young woman in a torn dress with her disheveled hair trailing behind ran into view. "Mesdame! Messieurs! The barbarians, they are pillaging the Roadhouse, please help us!" She points back down the road. "Please, quickly!"

 

[Rhun]

Lucien brushes a lock of dark hair out of his face as he observes the girl running toward the group. He had known that something bad was going to happen. It had been such a pleasant day after all, and the world had a way of ruining such things. Lucien had gotten into the habit of expecting the worst.

As the girl draws near, he calls out to her. "Barbarians? How many?"

 

[Vertexx69]

The pale blue crystalline performer is wrapped lightly in a completely impractical suit of white cloth armor that wouldn't provide the slightest warmth or protection to any who had need of such comforts. His mouthless face is a single "V shaped" gem, with smaller opaque growths and stones that imitate a spiked hairdo and a goatee. The eye shaped points of light inside the transparent shape of a face glow a deep and eerie blue, expressing none of the ample emotion that the mage seeks to convey. Thayoon's forearms and calves are a veritable forest of sharp, back-facing points of the same opaque crystal that gives his head the illusion of hair. Any uncovered facets of the shardmind's body glimmer and refract the suns light in a very enticing way.

To an observer more than 25ft away, Thayoon is silently juggling a set of flaming circus balls, using advanced techniques to keep his horse unaware of the aerial inferno whizzing by just behind its ears. But in the middle of the rambunctious group of Hounds, the entertainer is singing a raucious tune directly into the minds of his comrades that makes them randomly burst into fits of laughter, while the bards accompany him, each in their own way.

When the girl comes running over the rise, the shardmind stops failing his arms under the cascading circle of mini fireballs, but they just keep on spinning through the air. "Yuh see there? They come from far and wide, once word gets around about these skills." Once she starts yelling, the mage's shoulders slump and he waves a finger in a corkscrew pattern at the swirling circle of fiery spheres. The angle of the burning disc changes from vertically to horizontally over his head before each ball fades away in quick succession. "What kind of barbarians?" [sblock=OOC]Without a mouth, are shardminds even capable of normal speech? Or are they just incapable of communicating more than 5 squares away?

Thayoon[/sblock]

 

[Maidhc O Casain]

Aislinn rides alongside the others, her remarkable voice weaving an intricate, smoky counterpoint to the Shardmind's bawdy tune. Her pale blue eyes scan the countryside; she thoroughly enjoys the beautiful day and trusts that Boldrei will give her notice should anything threaten.

At the feminine cry of terror, the young Bard guides her mount with thigh and calf, quickly readying her bow and setting an arrow to the string.

 

[Walking Dad]

Malkyr Tsul

Malkyr is playing on his black flute, sitting on his black horse, wearing his black leather armor with just a hint of red (or is it another color...). Were it not for his flamboyant hat, his bright blue cloak and the surcoat with the Hounds emblem, one could have confuse him for a criminal himself.

In a blurring motion, he stows the flute away (twisting it just ride to turn it into a blowpipe) and he has his short sword in hand.

"Please show us the way, Mesdame."

[sblock=Mini-Sheet]
Malkyr Tsul
Perception: 17 Insight: 12 Dark Vision
AC 22 Fortitude 16 Reflex 20 Will 17
Initiative: +7
Hit Points: 40 / 40 Bloodied: 20
Temporary Hit Points: 0
Resist: -
Saving Throw: +2 vs charm, illusion, or sleep.
Action Points: 1 Second Wind: 1
Milestones: 0
Healing Surge:10 Surges per day: 8 / 8
At-Will Powers: Bola Takedown, Percision Dart, Quick Shot
Encounter Powers: Cloud of Darkness, Assassin's Strike, Spiteful Glamor, Cloak of Shades
Daily Powers: Carrion Crawler Brain Juice 1/1

Condition:


[/sblock]

 

[Insight]

Colin MacKinnon, riding his mount in a rather uncomfortable position, is happy that the ride has come to an end - for now at least. "Of all the cockamamie ideas," he says. "A dwarf ridin' a full-sized bleedin' horse? Ack, daft I tell ye!"

MacKinnon draws his mount to a stop and looks at the woman crying for help. "Barbarians, eh?" The dwarf considers dismounting, but, seeing no barbarians present, decides to stay mounted for now. "Ya know, many have called us dwarves barbarians, especially the cousins in Nordia. We'll see what sort of bleedin' barbarians are to be had in this peaceful land."

MacKinnon draws his reins and looks in the woman's direction. "All right, lass. Shew me to yuir barbarians..."

 

[Scotley]

As the girl draws near, he calls out to her. "Barbarians? How many?"

The girl stops and screws up her face in concentration. "A bunch, maybe a dozen? Hurry!" She points back again for emphasis.

 

[Shayuri]

Tabitha squints into the distance behind the girl, looking for a plume of smoke, or pursuers or other signs of the pillage she described. Bandits sometimes used this sort of thing to lure the unsuspecting away to ambush.

But then again, even if that WAS the goal, well then the bandits needed stopping just as much as barbarians did.

"Lets go!" she cried, and spurred her horse forward, following the woman's backtrail.

 

[Scotley]

[sblock=OOC]Without a mouth, are shardminds even capable of normal speech? Or are they just incapable of communicating more than 5 squares away?

Thayoon[/sblock]

[sblock=Vertexx69]Excellent question. The artwork certainly doesn't show a 'mouth' in the traditional sense and you don't breath. Do you want to be able to speak? You have languages. Perhaps you can vibrate facial crystals to make sound? [/sblock]

 

[stonegod]

Near the back of the group, on an old mare, was an older man, apparently asleep. He seemed out of place with the warriors and entertainers, dressed in heavy workman's leathers. He snored lightly, his white mustache twitching softly. His mare, however, seemed to know what to do, and she never went astray.

When the girl appeared and yelled, the mare stopped and the man continued sleeping. As the others began to question her, the older man slyly opened one eye, looked around, then went back to sleep. As he resettled, the reason for him being their was made clear: Strapped to his back was the largest, finest musket in the world. Carved clearly on its winged shaped stock was one word: Drache.

OOC: Making use of Watchful Rest talent there: No penalty to perception for sleeping. Speaking of: Perception 15 to notice anything funny.

 

[Scotley]

Aislinn sees no targets as yet. There does appear to be large structure in a copse of trees just off the road a couple hundred yards ahead. A bit of smoke from a chimney can be seen above the trees. A crashing sound followed by bestial laughter can be heard faintly.

[sblock=Int check 10+]From the trip out you remember seeing an old Roadhouse called the Cock and Dog in the vicinity.[/sblock]

The girl looks terrified when Colin and Malkyr raise the prospect of going back. She simply points and says "Orcs!" She looks beseechingly at you, "Please, help them." Tabitha's horse kicks up mud as she sets off at speed.

Nature check
[sblock=DC 15] Orcs favor hills and mountains, places pocked by caverns easily turned into defensible lairs. Bloodthirsty marauders and cannibals, orcs venerate Gruumsh and thereby delight in slaughter and destruction.
Orcs don’t build settlements of their own, instead improving existing shelters with crude fortifications. They prefer to settle in natural caves or structures abandoned by other, more skillful races. Orcs can manage simple ironwork and stonework, but they are lazy and grasping, preferring to take by force the tools, weapons, and goods other folk make.[/sblock]
[sblock=DC 20] Orcs band together into loose tribal associations. The strongest individual in a tribe leads as a despotic chieftain. Individual bands within a tribe might wander far from their native lands, but they still recognize orcs from the same tribe as kin.[/sblock]
[sblock=DC 25] Orcs often demonstrate their faith in Gruumsh by gouging out one of their eyes and offering it as a sacrifice to their one-eyed god.
According to myth, Corellon shot out Gruumsh’s eye with an arrow. For this reason, orcs hold a special hatred for elves and eladrin.[/sblock]

 

[Scotley]

[sblock=Stonegod]The girl appears to be what she says. The dress seems torn by a powerful hand not cut and she is missing some hair from having it pulled. A few bruises are starting to form. Her terror seems genuine enough. There is nothing out of the ordinary around you.[/sblock]

 

[Insight]

Colin MacKinnon looks in the direction the frazzled woman indicated. "That'll be in the direction of that Cock and Dog," he says. "Those bandits er barbarians er whatnot better stay well away from me only source of spirits in this forsaken land!"

MacKinnon spurs his horse onward, in the direction of the roadhouse. "C'mon, lads... and lasses, I s'pose!"

 

[Rhun]

Lucien spurs his mount forward at the same time as Colin, drawing his pistol as he does so. "Time to teach these damnable raiders a lesson," he says to McKinnon as their horses break into a canter.

 

[Lou]

Alejandro (Ali) Arroyo

Riding along near Lucien, Alejandro Arroyo has settled into a comfortable friendship with him as each teases the other about his preferred fighting style. Dressed in a white shirt and leather armor that seems to not quite be all solid as it swirls slightly in the sunlight, the brown haired young man teases his mustache and scratches his beard. His crimson-hemmed cloak provides the only color or marking on his clothes, aside from the insignia of the Hounds. The crossbow at his side seems out of place compared to the long sword that so quickly jumps to his hand from seemingly any distance.

As the young woman approaches the group calling for help, Ali listens as his comrades question her. As the group starts to ride forward in earnest, Ali turns to the grooms and orders, "Pierre, see to mademoiselle's safety. Put her on a horse and guide her. Lead the rest of the horses to those trees, we can meet up there. Jacques, follow us and move our horses away from any fighting. It won't do to kill the horses we are supposed to deliver to the city."

With that, Ali spurs his horse forward to catch up with the others.

 

[Walking Dad]

Malkyr Tsul

Once the building is in sight, Malkyr reigns his horse and tries to discern if the orcs already noticed the group. Barring that, he leaves it with his cape, surcoat and hat behind after securing it from running away. His white hair is hidden under a gray bandana and he has the crossbow in his right hand as he sneaks forward.

[sblock=Mini-Sheet]
Malkyr Tsul
Perception: 17 Insight: 12 Dark Vision
AC 22 Fortitude 16 Reflex 20 Will 17
Initiative: +7
Hit Points: 40 / 40 Bloodied: 20
Temporary Hit Points: 0
Resist: -
Saving Throw: +2 vs charm, illusion, or sleep.
Action Points: 1 Second Wind: 1
Milestones: 0
Healing Surge:10 Surges per day: 8 / 8
At-Will Powers: Bola Takedown, Percision Dart, Quick Shot
Encounter Powers: Cloud of Darkness, Assassin's Strike, Spiteful Glamor, Cloak of Shades
Daily Powers: Carrion Crawler Brain Juice 1/1

Condition:


[/sblock]

 

[renau1g]

"Zut Alors!" Francois calls out as the woman's cries reach his ears.

He follows with the others, drawing out the pair of pistols that hang at his hips. While the human bore a large ranged weapon, the drow, a fitting addition to this gorup of misfits, carried his less obvious, but equally deadly weapons. They perhaps were not as finely crafted as Wilhelm's weapon however the drow could handle them with no difficulty.

"Orcs!?!? But it's barely lunch. What are those one-eyed trouble-makers up to this early? Well besides ruining a perfectly good day. Ah well, you needed the excercise anyways" the drow calls out, playfully ribbing the dwarf with his last comment.

[sblock=ooc]
nautre; int (1d20+10=28, 1d20=11)
init (1d20+7=18) Figure I'd save some time [/sblock]

 

[stonegod]

The old man rouses himself from his nap and follows at the rear, lazily pulling his musket out and laying it across his lap. It gets a bit tangled, so the old man is distracted from the goings on.

OOC: Nature 14, Int 5, Init 16 (for later) .

 

[Maidhc O Casain]

Aislinn spurs her horse after the others, sitting her saddle easily as she scans the area ahead for the Orcs spoken of by the girl.

[sblock=Actions/Rolls]Perception (1d20+19=21, 1d20+19=25) (Figures I'd pump her perception up to +19 and only get a 25 out of two rolls . . .)

Initiative (1d20+1=18)

INT, Nature Checks (1d20+4=13, 1d20+9=17)[/sblock]

 

[Scotley]

As the lead riders close half the distance the Road House comes into view. The Cock and Dog is a homely affair, two low stories in height, partly built of stone, and having a small addition on the far side, from the end of which projects the half-dome of a ‘bake-oven,’ constructed from the outside and reached from within. The building is old and comfortably worn. Ivy grows up the side and shrubs fill the small yard behind a split rail fence. A few chickens peck at the ground there and a small sturdy bulldog tied to a post barks and runs in circles clearly upset. The sign above the door is limed with a strutting rooster and a dog not unlike the one tied nearby. One of the double doors stands ajar and a chair has been thrown through one of the windows. A man lies face down in the mud near the door unmoving. The sounds of harsh laughter, screams and breaking crockery can be heard now.

[sblock=Perception roll 21+] A figure stands in the shadow of the partially open door. [/sblock]