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D&D Act One Scene III - Red Moon over Thurmunton

Fourier

Day 1:

The adventurers leave the city of Soetrard behind them as they venture forth into the farmlands beyond the city gates. Here small local farmers work from dawn to dusk in the fields to feed Soetrard with all the grains, wheat and oats it needs to function on a daily basis.

The trip is mostly uneventful. Farmers waving at the party, small children pointing and laughing at the halflings and the odd farmer's daughter taken in by the handsome elf.

That night, with the full moon hanging high in the sky, approaching the fork where the roads to Thurmunton and Cantry separate, the horses stomp and look agitated.

Saeros and BandyLegs make out eleven figures in the shape of men shambling in the nearby trees, approaching the group slowly. The humans and halflings clearly can't see them yet. The heat from their bodies is low. Saeros makes the conclusion immediately, undead....zombies!!

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Necro

Fourier wrote: »

Betty is over seven foot tall, with muscles to match, she is fair of hair and skin, not from the State of Soetrard originally that much is obvious, her back is turned.

"A Bastard sword, aye yer a big bad fighter are ya. Is this for the games Mr..."

She turns and pauses, gazing at BandyLegs. She stammers a bit, her checks going an obvious red.

"...Dwarf, a dwarf, a moun...mountain dwarf. Eh,...our bastard swords are over there..."

Bandylegs takes a step back in awe.

'My lady, ne'er before have I seen such fine specimen of woman. It's like ye were cut outta the mountain! Chiseled jaw, strong looking hands.... and I'd wager a few coppers there'd be a set a fine buttocks under that tunic!

Pardon, me lady though, I dinnae mean ta be so forward. I am Bandylegs of house McGillicuddy. It's meant as a compliment, hope ye take it as so!

I'm in town fer the blessing of Thurmun. Might stop by his restin' place for a few moments if I get the chance.'

Bandylegs walks over and admires the collection of swords on display.

'Tis a fine collection ye have here... any in particular ye'd recommend fer a dwarf such as mesel'?'

Fourier

Necrominus wrote: »

'Hail and well met. I heard tell from one of yer girls that this was the finest store in Thurmonton, with prices to match! I'm lookin for a sword, had me eye on a bastard one in the last place I stopped but the price be too steep.'

Betty is over seven foot tall, with muscles to match, she is fair of hair and skin, not from the State of Soetrard originally that much is obvious, her back is turned.

"A Bastard sword, aye yer a big bad fighter are ya. Is this for the games Mr..."

She turns and pauses, gazing at BandyLegs. She stammers a bit, her checks going an obvious red.

"...Dwarf, a dwarf, a moun...mountain dwarf. Eh,...our bastard swords are over there..."

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

"These are not questions for men enjoying their leisure! Tell me, Garp - where can a gal go to learn more about your wonderful town?"

Garp and the others seem very pleased with Othegre's interest in Thurmunton.

"Well if you want to know the history of the place. I'd talk to Crasten, Big Betty's father. He raised her as a model of Thurmun. They live next to the old warehouses.

Any questions about Thurmun should be directed to him. I cut out the saintly worship meself, pray straight to Soet, so the Canticle of Soet tells us to do, in fact in the Account of Gustus, Verse Four it tells us...."

The others roll their eyes as Garp rants on and on.

Fourier

OldGoat wrote: »

"Tell me this lads, how did last years Tourney turn out? Who were the winners, did anyone die, what are the daily challenges like and most importantly, where are the bookies to be found?"

Dropping to a conspiratorial whisper I add
"I've heard tell of a fighter known as the Devil Rider after his prowess in strength and his glories in battle. I want to place a wager on him before word gets out about how good he is."

Garp sniggers, "Big Betty has won ever since she came into womanhood. She's got to be half-giant that woman. The challenges are like wrestling, running, tests o' bravery, things like that. This 'Devil Rider' won't beat Betty, I'll tell you that for nothing. She can run faster than a horse, 'fraid a nothin', stronger than ox. So place yer wager, but it'd be fer nothin, fer nothin I tells ya."

The dice come up a success

"Three coppers to da elf!!" they shout.

"Ye can take those to the bookies, he's the innkeep. He only offers non-Betty bets, so you're in luck, in a way"

Fourier

Lord TSC wrote: »

Alexander: Hang on. You say the drake skin bound book will offer me protections of sorts. If that is true, it means you have a far greater ability than you would have me believe. You said you did this in addition to your "usual craft"? Who are you really?

The man swallows hard and lifts his hand, uttering a few words quietly and tracing arcane symbols in the air with his left hand. The complexity of the spell is too much for Alexander to follow it entirely but it certainly is related to sound.

"There, we may talk freely. No, I am not a tanner. My father was, so I know enough the copy that peasant art. Indeed I am a user of magic like yourself." He glances at Alexander's spell book "I've been to Carrador's shop as well even."

"No, in truth I came to this town posing as a tanner as a ruse. This Thurmun owned a castle near here. His tomb I cannot enter for some reason, but I think his castle should be simple enough. If the old scrolls are right, it contains a lot of treasure and items of great interest, including a mighty artifact known as the 'Portus Kallicorum'.

The only problem is I cannot find a way in. What do you say we work together on this point? I need another to help move the rocks and I could provide the spell required. A rare one, from beyond Zassan. I had to strangle a Golem to get it and I offer you it for free."

Fourier

sKeith wrote: »

"Blessings of Thurmon to be upon you... My name is Ekbard, the Devil Rider, I hail from far far away, and am pleased to make the aquaintance of pretty much anybody. I'm sorry that I almost damaged you with this boulder, but I am not sure what to do with myself, maybe you know what is going on here?"

"It's simple lad. The more boulders you lift after the bell is sounded the higher your score. Every day there'll be a different event and the highest score overall at the end of the five days gets the coveted 'Cloak of Thurmun', worn by Thurmun 'imself over 500 years ago. It's gone to Big Betty for the last four years runnin'

Oi, that accent o' yours is foreign, where are you from warrior?"

Necro

Fourier wrote:

"On a mountain dwarf I do not know, it is so long since one has visited. If you earn his respect I suspect it will be great indeed."

"Near the old plaza his ancient followers built. More than this I cannot say."

Bandylegs nods again and thanks the cleric.

'Again I thank you, now as I said I'll leave ye to yer worship. Blessings of Thurmun be with ye.'

Bandylegs leaves the temple and considers his next move.

'Need ter know where the blasted entrance is. Maybe charming Big Betty will help.'

Bandylegs heads towards the store the flower girl advised him to visit earlier.

He steps inside and walks up to the counter.

'Hail and well met. I heard tell from one of yer girls that this was the finest store in Thurmonton, with prices to match! I'm lookin for a sword, had me eye on a bastard one in the last place I stopped but the price be too steep.'

Fourier

Necrominus wrote: »

'Thankee, High Cleric, blessing of Thurmun to ya too. Now, I don't want to trouble you too much, I'll let you get back to your quiet reflection. Me own will follow later, once I've partaken in yer blessing ceremony this afternoon. Can ye describe what gifts great Thurmun bestows on fellows such as mesel'?'

"On a mountain dwarf I do not know, it is so long since one has visited. If you earn his respect I suspect it will be great indeed."

Necrominus wrote: »

One last question and I'll let ye get back to yer worshippin'. Not tryin' ter intrude, hope ye understand. When I travel to the canyon, I'd wish to be as near to Thurmun's tomb as possible for me own worshippin', if ya catch me drift. Whereabouts in the ground should I pray would ye suggest that would have me close as possible to bask in Thurmun's presence....?'

"Near the old plaza his ancient followers built. More than this I cannot say."

Banjo

"Enter the contest? Ha! My faith can move mountains, sure, but I have the good sense not to stand directly under those mountains when they're moving. Besides, I've met this Devil Rider on the road yesterday. They don't call him that because fire shoots out of his mickey. Well, maybe it does, but finding out was impractical, we just talked. Anyway, he literally climbed on a Devil's back. For fun. Any man gets into fisticuffs with a nutter like that.... well, that's why I'm here. I have an interest in injury and some small skill in healing arts. And your town will need all the healing arts it can get!"

"I'm a scholar, not a fighter. While I'm waiting for some heads to get busted clean open so I can see what's inside, I'd love to know more about this Saint Thurmon. What were his great works! What did he stand for! Who did he stand against! Why do people come from far and wide to beat eachother to a pulp in his honour? But... " she stands, "These are not questions for men enjoying their leisure! Tell me, Garp - where can a gal go to learn more about your wonderful town?"

Lord TSC

Fourier wrote: »

Alexander remembers old tomes mentioning that having the skin retain the magical properties of a living drake requires a Theurgist or greater, this man is not just a tanner.

OOC: Theurgist is a Level 4 Magic User

Alexander hesitates for a moment, and then pulls his spell book close to his chest. A memory of an old book, studied meticulously as a young teenager, comes flooding back.

Alexander: Hang on. You say the drake skin bound book will offer me protections of sorts. If that is true, it means you have a far greater ability than you would have me believe. You said you did this in addition to your "usual craft"? Who are you really?

OldGoat

Fourier wrote: »

OOC: Wisdom check to gauge the men. Given your age as an elf, you've experience, so -2.

"Oh ere" says one of the men "look at this lad, he's prettier than me bloody wife. You ere to gawk at us short lived mortals m'lord elf, bloody arrogant of ya you stuck up.." he receives another wallop

"Garp you idiot, dats a bloody high elf, he's got magic and all, could turn ye into a worm or shrink yer manhood
Beggin yer pardon Sir!"

OOC: Rolz 16 Vs my wisdom of 9

With a small smile I acknowledge the cleric. "Sometimes even the cobbler needs coin for his last. Are you thinking of entering the tourney by any chance?"

I say to Garp in a friendly, joking manner, after making a worm impression with my little finger, "Yep, a tiny little worm with a tiny little wormy cock". "I have two copper pieces that say the outcome of the next dice roll will be a success. Any takers?"

I take out a wineskin and pass it around in an attempt to put the dice players at ease and get them in a talkative mood.

"Tell me this lads, how did last years Tourney turn out? Who were the winners, did anyone die, what are the daily challenges like and most importantly, where are the bookies to be found?"

Dropping to a conspiratorial whisper I add
"I've heard tell of a fighter known as the Devil Rider after his prowess in strength and his glories in battle. I want to place a wager on him before word gets out about how good he is."

Fourier

Lord TSC wrote: »

(OOC: Rolled a 7, minus 4 is a 3, against a score of 14 so pass )

Alexander remembers old tomes mentioning that having the skin retain the magical properties of a living drake requires a Theurgist or greater, this man is not just a tanner.

OOC: Theurgist is a Level 4 Magic User

Lord TSC

Fourier wrote: »

OOC: Since you directly asked about the Drakeskins, roll Intelligence, -4. Arcane Lore again.

(OOC: Rolled a 7, minus 4 is a 3, against a score of 14 so pass

)

sKeith

Fourier wrote: »

The villagers are all preparing in the field, most of the maypoles are up and a cart lies in the center with heavy little boulders in it. The gathering of the village's most musclebound characters makes it fairly clear that today's event will be a weightlifting competition.

Ekbard takes note of the burly characters before him and seeks to find a conversational type. While taking note of his surroundings, he ventures towards the cart.

Ekbard places the barrel he is burdened with down near to the cart ladden with large boulders and rocks so that he is less encumbered. He grabs a couple of the smaller rocks from the cart of boulders and begins juggling them, not an easy feat, as these rocks are the size of water melons. Whist juggling these large rocks Ekbard encourages a fumble which causes one of the rocks to drop. This stray rock falls towards a person that Ekbard has decided, appears to be one of the more approachable possibly less secure of the musclar people that surrounding him in the field.

Ekbard throws the other rocks back in the cart and follows the path of the strayed rock to the feet of what he can identify as a musculary looking person of some description.

"Hello there, Are you here for the games? I've been told by the tavern keeper that these are games, and not duels to the death, I hope he has not mislead me.... "

Ekbard offers the strangers one of the chains of flowers that he has been gifted with.

"Blessings of Thurmon to be upon you... My name is Ekbard, the Devil Rider, I hail from far far away, and am pleased to make the aquaintance of pretty much anybody. I'm sorry that I almost damaged you with this boulder, but I am not sure what to do with myself, maybe you know what is going on here?"

Necro

Fourier wrote: »

"Of course you may enter the canyon where it is located, it's just around the western side of the bluff. In truth my order don't go there much any more. It'll take you about two hours walk from the center of town."

He pauses, happy to see somebody take an interest.

"The whole tomb and the plaza there were built by Thurmun's loyal followers shortly after he died. We know from the surviving writings that they entombed him and guarded the whole complex for over a hundred years, frequently fending off former minions of Thurmun's enemy, the dread priest Carax.

Eventually they sealed the tomb, why we do not know. Centuries later it was found and my order protects it now.

It is high blaspheme to enter the tomb itself, but only we know the exact location of the entrance and how to open it. In addition Thurmun loved your kind, one of your kings was his loyal adviser. So of course you may visit the canyon. None of the brotherhood will be there during the festival, so you will be undisturbed for quiet contemplation.

May Thurmun smile upon you"

Bandylegs takes all of this in, trying to mask his delight at the tomb being unguarded at present.

'Thankee, High Cleric, blessing of Thurmun to ya too. Now, I don't want to trouble you too much, I'll let you get back to your quiet reflection. Me own will follow later, once I've partaken in yer blessing ceremony this afternoon. Can ye describe what gifts great Thurmun bestows on fellows such as mesel'?'

Bandylegs pauses, not sure how to continue.

One last question and I'll let ye get back to yer worshippin'. Not tryin' ter intrude, hope ye understand. When I travel to the canyon, I'd wish to be as near to Thurmun's tomb as possible for me own worshippin', if ya catch me drift. Whereabouts in the ground should I pray would ye suggest that would have me close as possible to bask in Thurmun's presence....?'

Banjo

"My thanks sir. I agree, this is a silly looking mace, never morse-so than when it's hurtling towards your face at a rate of knots!"

She mock-swings the mace at Garp, then claps him on the arm, more gently than his companion. She has no skill for languages but hopes this will translate into neanderthal as "me friend". She sits down and awaits her turn with the dice.

"Indeed I am a cleric, from very far away. I'm sure my ways are as strange to you as yours to me."

Her turn to roll. She mutters "aid the dwarf, hinder the girl, stop the tourney, 3-5-1" as she casts the die. They come up 3, 4, 4. Not bad, far more in tune than she felt. The position on the dwarf hadn't changed but the girl meant to hinder her in some way? And what of the tourney? Could she trust this reading without a wager?

Saeros approaches, earning Garp another dig on his beleaguered arm.

"Hail, good sir elf! Is the cobbler mending his own shoes today?"

Fourier

Lord TSC wrote: »

Alexander: Drakeskins? That's quite an impressive little enterprise you've got going. Do you mind if I ask where you acquire these skins?

Alexander draws his spellbook from his backback, but retains a firm hold on it for now.

Alexander: How long does the process take, and where do you do it? I'd rather it not be out of sight for too long.

OOC: Since you directly asked about the Drakeskins, roll Intelligence, -4. Arcane Lore again.

Fourier

OldGoat wrote: »

I wander over, not taking part just yet. I'm watching and gauging which of the men might be the one best suited to making some bets on the tourney and who will give us details about how the tourney itself operates.

OOC: Wisdom check to gauge the men. Given your age as an elf, you've experience, so -2.

"Oh ere" says one of the men "look at this lad, he's prettier than me bloody wife. You ere to gawk at us short lived mortals m'lord elf, bloody arrogant of ya you stuck up.." he receives another wallop

"Garp you idiot, dats a bloody high elf, he's got magic and all, could turn ye into a worm or shrink yer manhood
Beggin yer pardon Sir!"

Fourier

Banjo wrote: »

"Gentlemen, may I join you? I have no coin but this mace has been imbued with great spirit and will confer a great magnetism on any man who wields it - would you put your gold against this magic weapon?"

"I ye may" says a slightly drunk old man "tis a silly little game, wouldn't be right taken your mace missy. Besides it's a daft lookin' thing at any ra..." he receives a swift wallop from another member of the group.

"Garp you bloomin' rough oaf, dis ere is a Cleric a' some foreign religion, Soet knows how they take that kind of thing.
Beggin yer pardon miss!"

Fourier

sKeith wrote: »

Ekbard leaves the shop and goes back to Menace. He says hi to Arry and throws the 16 torches into the cart. He puts his shield and sword and polearm into his backpack and then grabs the barrel and begins to look for the field where blesssing is happening .

The villagers are all preparing in the field, most of the maypoles are up and a cart lies in the center with heavy little boulders in it. The gathering of the village's most musclebound characters makes it fairly clear that today's event will be a weightlifting competition.

Fourier

Necrominus wrote: »

'Aye, and normally I wudn't be seeking out no clerics mesel, te tell ye the truth. But I came from afar as I said for the festival. I was hopin to cast my eyes on the tomb of Thurmun, but folk in these parts say your...brotherhood? Order? guard it. I figured I'd better ask permission rather than wanderin' in there off the road like some crazed drunken lunatic.'

"Of course you may enter the canyon where it is located, it's just around the western side of the bluff. In truth my order don't go there much any more. It'll take you about two hours walk from the center of town."

He pauses, happy to see somebody take an interest.

"The whole tomb and the plaza there were built by Thurmun's loyal followers shortly after he died. We know from the surviving writings that they entombed him and guarded the whole complex for over a hundred years, frequently fending off former minions of Thurmun's enemy, the dread priest Carax.

Eventually they sealed the tomb, why we do not know. Centuries later it was found and my order protects it now.

It is high blaspheme to enter the tomb itself, but only we know the exact location of the entrance and how to open it. In addition Thurmun loved your kind, one of your kings was his loyal adviser. So of course you may visit the canyon. None of the brotherhood will be there during the festival, so you will be undisturbed for quiet contemplation.

May Thurmun smile upon you"

Tigger

After riding hard all the way to Thurmunton Goodie needs a rest he makes for the nearest inn instructing the stab boy in how to mind Humility and his spare equipment for a decent tip and goes in for a hot meal and ale followed a sleep. He double checks his lodgings and takes the time to wash and condition his foot hair.
items carried now are
armour
bow
quiver 20 arrows on hip
backpack
remaining rations
encumberance
0-1

xp 444

gold
50 + 10 + 300 + 100

spent 58 11 180 50
balance available is 161

1. Name
Ilberic Goodenough the Halfling Veteran

2. Stats/Six main attributes
STR: 10
DEX: 12
CON: 9
INT: 13
WIS: 9
CHA: 13

3. Class Halfling

4. Hit Points 6/6

5. Spells

6. Alignment Neutral

skills

riding 2
balance 1
disguise 1

armour class
3 banded mail

Lord TSC

Fourier wrote: »

"I work in rebinding spellbooks in addition to my usual craft, I'll replace the wooden cover with one made from drakeskin of two species. It'll make yer book resistant to fire and water. The skin of a drake is magic in itself, so you'll also gain some protection from fire. 50 GP, what do ye say? Previous customers have been right satisfied."

Alexander: Drakeskins? That's quite an impressive little enterprise you've got going. Do you mind if I ask where you acquire these skins?

Alexander draws his spellbook from his backback, but retains a firm hold on it for now.

Alexander: How long does the process take, and where do you do it? I'd rather it not be out of sight for too long.

OldGoat

Searos nods to Ekbard.
I'll find out more about the tourney and see what I can get set up for us. We'll meet in the tavern later I'm sure.

I stroll towards the shabbier areas of the village knowing that is where I'll find those folk interested in games of chance. Soon enough I spy Othegre among a group of gamblers.

I wander over, not taking part just yet. I'm watching and gauging which of the men might be the one best suited to making some bets on the tourney and who will give us details about how the tourney itself operates.

I pay a lot of attention to my traveling companion and I wonder to myself if Othegre might be persuaded to play along in scheme I'm building or is she too unpredictable. I really don't know her well enough to trust her.

sKeith

Ekbard leaves the shop and goes back to Menace. He says hi to Arry and throws the 16 torches into the cart. He puts his shield and sword and polearm into his backpack and then grabs the barrel and begins to look for the field where blesssing is happening .

Banjo

Fourier wrote: »

She comes across a dice game being played next to one of the houses, three men sit playing, rolling the dice onto the road and cheering every so often.

Othegre moves close enough to watch the numbers on the dice, breathing as Feynman had instructed, clearing her mind and waiting for the rolling numbers to take over. The way forward was close... She feels Jammai's presence (cure light wounds, recharged!) but what to do about the festival without opposing the dwarf? Was it the little girl she should hinder? She needed more!

"Gentlemen, may I join you? I have no coin but this mace has been imbued with great spirit and will confer a great magnetism on any man who wields it - would you put your gold against this magic weapon?"

sKeith

Ekbard hands over the 8gp 2 sp and thanks brathen.

Tigger

Fourier wrote: »

OOC: His torches burn three times as long.

have bcaughtvupnyet ?

Fourier

sKeith wrote: »

OOC: torches come in 8 in manual, and im buying 16, does that mean 4sp? or is this another expensive shop?

OOC: His torches burn three times as long.

sKeith

:ooc, well my pole arm is cheaper than blue book price