Urn Your Pay (Rae judging)

covaithe

Visitor
INTRODUCTION

Even though we've perhaps not finalized the roster for this adventure, I think it's time to give it it's own thread and stop cluttering up the RDI with sblocks.

This adventure is an adaptation of one that I ran for my tabletop group in late 2007. It's my first time running a PbP game, so you may have to bear with me if things aren't as polished as they could be. Rolls will be by Invisible Castle, please. I'll post my rolls too, when appropriate.

I plan to post at least once every day, even if it's just to say "Hang on, still working on the map" or "Waiting for input from Trouvere" or whatever. There will be exceptions, but I'll do my best to let you know about those in advance. Likewise, I'll be fairly quick to NPC players who don't respond. I won't commit to a specific time interval, since it will depend on the situation, but I am going to try to avoid having play wait on any one person for more than a few days. If I don't hear from you at all for a few weeks, you may find yourself outside the RDI with a lump on your head and no memory of how you got there. Possibly without your clothes. :D Of course, none of this applies if you tell me you're going to be away ahead of time.

Finally, when I get the rules wrong (I'm sure it will happen at least once) please do point it out to me, and we'll work out how best to handle it.


For reference, here's Alvar's speech from the RDI:

In the back room of the Red Dragon Inn is a long table, less worn and stained than the one you were just drinking off of. The walls are thick plaster, and when the door closes behind you, you can only hear the noisy common room as a dim murmur.

"I know you all want to the details of exactly what I want you to do, but I'm going to have to give a little background information, a history lesson if you will, in order for it all to make sense." Alvar Thorne's voice booms out slightly too loudly for the room. "I'll try to make it quick."

"Two hundred years ago, the Grellgo river -- you all know the Grellgo? It's the big river running north towards Orussus from Lathim and points south. Anyway, two hundred years ago it was a much smaller river, and the lands along its banks were good farmland, not festering swamps. And the owners of that farmland ... Well. Since Orussus is ruled by a mayor and a council, you may have wondered -- I certainly have -- where all these lords and countesses and barons come from. It turns out that they are landowners, or were. They owned farmland. Good farmland." He smiles nastily.

"About a hundred and fifty years ago, some nameless river in the Badlands shifted course and became a tributary of the Grellgo. Overnight, the Grellgo tripled in size, jumped its banks, and flooded most of that good farmland. Family fortunes tracing back generations were wiped out in days. When the river settled into its present course, most of the best farmland had turned into swamplands: the Grellgo fens. Many of the noble families lost everything, and their names are mostly forgotten. A few managed to survive, much diminished, on other holdings: lesser farmlands, trade ships, gold stored elsewhere, and so forth. Those are the ancestors of our current crop of lordlings." His voice drips contempt.

"Now we come to my part in the story. My mother's aunt, Aurelia Higgenbottom, died ten years ago, and in her possessions we found a diary that had belonged to her mother; my great grandmother. The diary records that not long after her marriage to my great grandfather, she received word that her family home was lost in a flood. She goes on for several pages of rather purple prose about how she'll never see her childhood home again, which was painful to read, but was useful in that she described some of the landmarks in detail."

"Naturally, I gave the matter no further thought, but Fewtrell here,"
he waves towards the halfling, "It seems he makes a hobby out of studying genealogy. By referencing several old maps from before the flood, he has managed to present me a fairly convincing argument that the 'family home' she describes is the manor house of the Mordren family. The Mordrens were counts, and, if Fewtrell isn't mistaken, were among the most successful and respected of the noble families of the era. Their lands were entirely within the flooded lands, and the family was thought to be lost completely. But, if Fewtrell's theory is correct, my great grandmother might actually be the daughter of the last Count Mordren." He directs this mockingly towards the halfling.

"As genealogical evidence goes, this is pretty flimsy, and if I were to put myself forward as Count Mordren based on this, I would be a laughingstock. Even the fact that I'm thinking about it would be mildly embarrassing, which is why I'm asking all of you not to mention it, please. Now, I normally wouldn't give two bent coppers for the title to some land in a swamp, but it so happens that there are some business opportunities coming up which will be easier to capitalize on if I can call myself a count, so I've asked Fewtrell to look into the matter further, to see if there is any more evidence that might be found, and he's come up with something."

"Some other genealogical records of the time say that the Mordren family had a tradition of recording the births, marriages, and deaths of all the children of the current Count Mordren on a ceremonial funeral urn. When he died himself, his ashes were placed in the urn in the family crypt alongside the ashes of former counts. At first Fewtrell and I thought this wasn't helpful, since the urns would all be lost by now. But it seems that, according to my great grandmother's journal, the Mordren family manor house was actually at the crest of a small hill overlooking the surrounding area. Thus, it's quite possible that the house is still intact and the urn might be found." He leans forward and places his hands on the table.

"This is where you all come in. The swamps are dangerous enough that I can't just send one of my usual errand runners, and I can't spare any guards for the foreseeable future. But this is exactly the sort of task that you adventurers claim to be good at, so I thought I'd give you a try. My offer is this. I'll give 1500 crowns to whoever fetches me that urn. You can divide it amongst yourselves, however many of you there are, as you see fit. I'll provide maps indicating my best guess as to the location of the manor, but then you're on your own."


[sblock=Sense Motive DC 15]Fewtrell doesn't actually look all that excited about this genealogical discussion. In fact, he shows less interest in them than he showed in going over the accounts in the common room.
[sblock=Sense Motive DC 25]Alvar is quite glib, but he is much more excited by the idea of being a count than he wants to let on.[/sblock]
[/sblock]
 
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covaithe

Visitor
jcb2772 said:
Soocula finally draws towards the table and sits his mug down drawing all eyes up at him."It is most unwise to start any campagin without the proper people or equipment. So tell us more about what this area is like and might an advance be in order to outfit ourselves, and show your good faith?" Soocula sits so as not to strain anyones neck.[/sblock]
Alvar gives Soocula a cool stare. "I am a well-known and respected merchant, with holdings in Orussus, Monemvassia, Fallon, and elsewhere. Who are you, exactly, to question my good faith? As for the area and its dangers, I know little other than that it's swampland. You should ask in one of those villages close to the swamps. There's one on the map, it's called..." He snaps his fingers, and Fewtrell whispers something in his ear. "...Cragger's Rest."
 

jcb2772

Visitor
Soocula

Urn (earn) your pay. I like it though it is very foreboding hope we don't have to work and bleed to hard to urn it. Posting to let you know I found the thread and still wish to play still unapproved.

Edit: Soocula takes a pull from his mug, and giving Alvar a nod of respect. He says," I am just a fighting man Master Merchant. You are right it is not my job to question only to follow orders. Please forgive me." He sits alittle more rigidly.
 
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Trouvere

Visitor
Gildrim laughs a gurgling laugh deep in his throat. "Ye see, he answered aw yer points, 'cept th' askin' fur an advance! Anyhaw, Ah'm sure we aw hae a few coins tae uir names."

"Sae, it's a merse that's gane tae bog. Nocht but gellie-leeches an' bitin' midgies, Ah'll wager. If th' water is deep, Ah micht be wantin' a boat... a scowe tae skim ower th' reeds."
 

serow

Visitor
Ter-raen, quiet for the period of the story, shifts a little at the back of the room. He agrees that a healer would be very welcome, especially in some swamp. He doesn't want to eat swamp grass to get better! He calculates a bit mentally. 1500 crowns among 4 to 5 people. That should still be enough for a drink.
 

covaithe

Visitor
Alvar stands up. "Fewtrell, the map." The halfling digs out a rolled piece of paper, which Alvar takes and hands to whichever of you is closest. "Do you have any more questions? I need to be getting back to my offices soon."

A quick glance at the map reveals that it indicates an area about 100 miles south of Orussus, east of the main southern road, near the Grellgo river.

ooc: Please decide who is carrying the map. I'll get you an actual map later, but I'm at work at the moment.
 
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Trouvere

Visitor
"Ah don't trust Cyian haur nae tae forgit it, aw dicht his dowp wi' it in a moment aw inattention. Ter-raen, can you read? Ah'm middlin' guid wi' maps. Ah think Ah'll haud it fer noo, if thaur's nae pleenin'?" says Gildrim.

"Leuks like a hunder miles tae me, if it's an inch. A sennicht thaur, an' a sennicht back, an' a speal in th' swamp. Three weeks ay fuid each. We kin buy some at Cragger's Rest."
 
Cyian

Cyian sits back grompy, crossing his arms and giving the dwarf a what for stare. Just want to look at it, he thinks. When the dwarf says it's a hundred miles he look changes to that of an excited child ready to be off.

ooc: do we have a ooc thread or in LEW do you just post in game??
I really think we need a cleric or the anyone to help or just pray the dm throws some extra healing potions in the adventure for are fighters know they are going to need them.
 

Trouvere

Visitor
Gildrim hops to his feet. "Ah'm gonnae tak' a peek in th' main room again," he says. He opens the door with a crash and pokes his head through.

"Last chance!" he bellows. "We're wantin' a healer, an' a body wha's in wi' a guid god, an' kin cast proper healin' spells!"

[sblock=OOC]Not generally an OOC thread; I try to keep OOC commentary to a minimum or sblock them. They break up the flow too much, imo.[/sblock]
 

Trouvere

Visitor
"Weel, that was quick," Gildrim says, returning with an odd new companion, a gnome, following close behind. "Ah'll let him introduce himself in guid time. Fur noo, tak' a leuk at this map, seg callad." He hands the parchment over to the gnome.

"Weel, Maister Thorne," he continues, "Ah ken fine ye're a well-respectit merchand, sae ye'll unnerstaund aw aboot contracts an' sae on. Lat's git it doon in writin' afair ye leave: we'll gae tae th' Grellgo swamps, airt oot yer ancestral hame, an' cairy back this urn. Onythin' in th' hoose is yers; onythin' ense we micht fin' elsewhere is oors. Nae, whit dae we git fur oor trooble if we gang aw th' way thaur tae fin' th' hoose ur th' urn is missin', sae as ye learn th' valuable lesson that ye kin gie up yer dream ay bein' a coont?"[sblock=anyone who speaks Gnome]seg callad, distant cousin[/sblock]
 
Oh I speak gnome

"Cousins??" Cyian looks at the newcomer and then the dwarf. Gildrim sees him staring and gives him a pointed look before he contiues. Cyian just sits quietly now knowing he could be replaced just as easy as that- if he's not quiet.

[sblock=thanks]Thanks will keep ooc hidin[/sblock]
 

Halford

Visitor
"Wow I'm so happy ye speak Gnome, its binne while, too long! I wish I knew Dwarven, hmm, maybe I can pick it up!"

Erf clambers into a chair that dwarfs his tiny personage, with practiced ease, and his eyes flicker over the map alight with with interest. Giving a small satisfied nod he soon turns an incongorously large grin upon the company,

"Pleasure to meet ye all folks, here's hopin' I can be of service. I may be little, but my motto has always been speak nicely and ride a big dog! In any case I knows me way around in the wilderness and I can do a bitte healing and a few other helpful tricks 'specially in the woods. Oh, and doncha worry about me slowin' you down, I just ride me dog so we'll be good!"

He grins at everyone,

"Anyway, don't mind me I'll catch up do go on! I bet we're goin on a great quest and such right? I love you big guys, never dull, never dull!"

[Sblock=OOC]Hope its okay for me to jump in here Covaithe, just say the word and I'll delete this post. [/Sblock]
 
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Trouvere

Visitor
Jerrand Redband said:
"Cousins??" Cyian looks at the newcomer and then the dwarf. Gildrim sees him staring and gives him a pointed look before he contiues.
Cyian must have a guilty conscience, because Gildrim's in fact absorbed fingering the crispy ends of his beard anxiously. "Ay coorse ma beard's flourishin'. It's jest hud a wee accident ur two," he says to himself. "Eh, what's that, Cyian? Coosins? Aye, dwarves an' gnomes ur stone-kin, aw fowk ken that. An' jist coz a fella is a wee bit green in th' gizz is nae reason tae doobt it. Sae, ye kin speak Gnome tay, kin ye? Guid, guid."

"See, Ah seid Ah'd fin' a healer. Didnae tak' mair than fower breaths. Sae, Thorne, if ye're in a big hurry tae get back tae yer money-makin', ye kin draw up a contract noo, aw leave it tae yer halflin' adjutant."
 

serow

Visitor
Ter-raen looks at the newcomer. Gnome healer. He suddenly has this realisation that both the new gnome and the dwarf talk an awful lot. But the gnome speaks clearer. He is quietly amused by this party.

"Welcome," he says to the gnome.
 

covaithe

Visitor
[sblock=ooc]No problem, Halford; welcome.

As for sblocks for ooc, they're nice, but I won't make any kind of rule abou t it, since I'll probably be the first one to break it. :) As long as it's clear what's IC and what's OOC, I'm happy.[/sblock]

In response to Gildrim's question, Alvar nods thoughtfully. "A fair point. What I seek is knowledge, one way or the other. If you can say under the influence of truth magic that you've searched the area thoroughly and there is no house there, or that you've searched the house and there are no such urns or other documentation of interest to me, I'll pay the full reward. Will that suffice?"
 

Halford

Visitor
"'Ello Cyian! Cor I'm glad ye both speak Gnome makes me feel right at home! Yep Dwarves and Gnomes are Cousins, though I think us Forest Gnomes are farther removed than most!"

Erf leans forward towards Cyian,

"So what do you do Cyian? Are you a warrior? Ye look like a warrior. I bet ye've had loads of adventures 'ey? Me and Fenenn been lookin' for a bitte adventure, but we've not had much luck. Still I bet we find all sorts of interesting stuff where we're headed, loads of dangerous stuff lives in swamps!"

The Gnomes eyes shine with anticipation as he rubs his hands together gleefully. Alvar's response to Gildrim catches Erf's keen ear and he turns his attention to the Dwarf, murmuring only,

Sounds grand te me.
 
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covaithe

Visitor
Alvar continues after a moment, "And by the way, what I'm interested in from the house is documentation. If there are other valuables in the house that go missing, I won't be too concerned -- within reason. I'm not one to muzzle the kine that treads the grain. Do try not to do any structural damage, though."
 

Trouvere

Visitor
"Mair than generoos, mair than generoos," says Gildrim to Thorne. "Ah'll do ma best tae fin' th' hoose aw th' place whaur it stuid. Ye hae th' wuid ay a Steady Anvil."
 

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