strokesRPG: Gray Vale

Barrow of the Ogre King: An Adventuring Party Forms

Ches (The Claw of Sunsets) 19, 1479 DR, the Year of the Ageless One

Dawn of the Spring Equinox…

You stir from your night’s rest, awakened by a combination of the savory smell of frying bacon wafting from the kitchen downstairs and a halfling’s boisterous laugh emanating from the commons below.

Marsh Laval, the Green Tankard’s Proprietor, is an early riser and expects the same from his patrons. He’s obviously telling one of his infamous stories again, and your sure it’s at the expense of prompt service.

A moderate wind howls from outside gently rattling your room’s only window. The window is foggy and snow hangs upon it, desperately clinging to the panes as if it had a life of its own. Low white snow clouds hang above the frontier town of Loudwater like a frown upon a sullen face. Diffusing the sun’s warming light, they show no signs of burning off.

Its going to be a cold day and no amount of layering is going keep the last of winter’s tail from lashing out.


((DMnote: This is just an example of what an IC Comment should look like))

”... and that is how the wyvern lost its tail,” Marsh ends his story to the not so enthused patrons sitting at the bar.

What appears to be a local half-elf farmer sitting alone at a nearby table see’s his chance to interrupt, “Hey Marsh, can I get my breakfast sometime today? I’m needing to get over to Calla’s for them specialty goods I ordered last tenday. If I don’t get out of town soon the road may thaw out and I’ll likely get my wagon stuck in the muck.”

Marshes ears perk up as he overhears the mention of goblins from a table next to the warm hearth ((Perception Check (1d20): 14)). Listening more intently, the hin tries to eavesdrop on a bit more.


Having just arrived in town, Melieraz heads straight for the Green Tankard in a brisk walk. He bursts into the inn and yells “I love Loudwater and I happy to be here!” With that, he springs across the room and jumps up to grab a rafter either from the floor or a table. He swings around the rafter two or three times and dismounts with a double layout with 1 full twist and try to land on his feet. (Acrobatics check 1d20+9=15+9=24)


Having taken some breakfast up to his room earlier, Amagar gets drawn down to the common hall by the loud commotion taking place, just in time for some pointy-eared monkey to land on the ground close in front of him. Having interrupted his stride, Amagar glares at the elf as he walks past and goes to the bar for a tankard of dwarven ale. Once he had his drink in hand, he looks to the edges of the common hall and picks an unoccupied table out of the center of attention.


The tavern goes utterly silent as the patrons look on in amazement. The rafter creaks a bit from the weight of the elf, but it holds. As the elf goes round and round, dust fly’s into the air and gently floats down onto the tables and the floor below. Patrons frantically wave hands in front of their faces and over their plates of food trying to keep the dirt from it. The elf’s form is nearly perfect as he plants his feet squarely on the floor.

“What in nine hells,” the halfling behind the bar yells. Half looking angry but also surprised, Marsh sternly tells the newcomer, “Those shenanigans are better suited for the Fisher’s Friend Pub,” and he points to the door.


Finding his open table next to the roaring hearth, Amagar walks past a bald man sitting alone at a table. A cane leans against an empty chair adjacent to him and his right leg is withered like a raisen.

The man looks up from his bowl of mush, raises a tankard of his own, and gives the tiefling an friendly smile, “Must be highnoon somewheres… right?


Striding in from the street, an impossibly large form enters the tavern. Bending down somewhat to allow his huge frame through the door, the newcomer stands upright and fluffs an impossible mane of golden hair about his shoulders and takes a brief glance about the room. “I hope it doesn’t plan on getting much hotter today, I already had to shed my cloak.” He says to nobody in particular, then noting the stares from some of the patrons, he sighs to himself, and asks “you never seen a goliath before?” The stranger then approaches the Bar… “So barkeep, what’s the skinny about all the hubbub I keep hearing about Loudwater? I have just spent 15 of the last 16 months riding as caravan guard, and could really use a diversion.”


Melieraz throws his arms wide towards the bartender and says “I meant no harm or disrespect my good halfing.” And with a bow introduces himself “My name is Melieraz from the Dalelands. At your service.” His raises from the bow and asks “And what may be your name, fine sir?”


She’d been cooped up on that damn ice skiff for far too long now, and from the look her face had taken, she was obviously not happy. No, not happy at all.. The trip to the mainland from the Moonshaes had taught her that she absolutely hated traveling by ship, but at this time of year there was no option that could be said to be any more sane to get out here. I swear… This had better be important for Silvanus to ask me to come all the way out here to this godforsaken bit of civilization.

When one of the deckhands whistled at her as she passed, she hissed at him and repositioned her backpack before pushing her way out from the docks. She wanted to get as far away from that blasted ship as she could while still keeping warm. She considered for a moment shifting and going out into the woods, but she needed to learn about what was going on in this region before setting off on her own to find whatever it was that the Moonspeaker had told her Silvanus had sent her here to find.

Spotting the sign of the Green Tankard, Iris pulls her cloak tighter about her and slips inside with a scowl on her face, made even more apparent by the commotion within, and looked around for a seat where she could be left mostly to herself.


The halfling nods to the elf in a more friendly manner, “Marsh Laval is the name and the Tankard is my place. I run a respectable establishment here and I think you’ll find there’s no gulletfire to be found under t’is roof. Room rates are 5 silvers a day and yer welcome to stay as long as you can remain civil.”

Marsh’s eyes suddenly widen with amazement as the hulking form approaches the bar. “Skin, hub, what…” Marsh rolls his eyes and with a sigh he mutters more to himself, “Looks like its going to be one of those days.”


The Tankard begins bustling with activity as more and more goodfolk come in from the street looking for a hot first meal on such a cold day. Most greet Marsh with “Alae” or a “hey Marsh” and find their respective seats. As they pull off their heavy woolen overcoats, their attention is briefly drawn to a larger table by the hearth with the tiefling sitting by himself. They quickly look away and gravitate to the opposite side of the room as if he was plague ridden.


Amagar takes a swig of his ale to hide a smirk before replying: “Didn’t realize there was a time of day for it.” He says before turning to move on to his own table. Noting that there was a comfortable aura of quiet around his table, he rests his coin purse in front of him and quietly counts out what he has left from his last job.


Raz looks up and up and up at the goliath and can’t help stare at the hair! He says “My, my, you are one tall tower. And there is a god! Just look at that hair! On a goliath! That hair would make an eladarin princess jealous. Me name is Melieraz,” and holds out his hand for a friendly hand shake, hoping not to have it crushed.


Digi pauses at the bar for a moment looking about for a stool that will hold his weight, then asks the barkeep “Marsh is it? I heard rumors while I was waiting for the next caravan to form in Secomber that there had been trouble up ‘round Loudwater. Something about goblins…” Noticing the elf, he enthusiastically takes the hand offered, and says “ Well met Melieraz, I am known of as Digi – glad to meet one so discerning as yourself. It is rare to come across one who recognizes true beauty when he sees it. Tell me, when you left the Dalelands, had the lord of Mistledale rebuilt the west tower of his gatehouse? “ perhaps you know the place, about halfway between Ashabenford and Tilverton… where the forest starts to encroach on the road again?”


Raz says to Digi, “You can call me Raz. About that tower, ummm…(DM, can I make something up here, or should you tell me what Raz knows?). Say, Digi, you know what? We should form a Circus, but a special one. It would be like this: during the day we could entertain the good people in the area and then at night, we could hunt down evil things that are terrorizing them. We could be called the Killer Clowns or the Circus Freak Patrol, CFP for short. For the act, you could throw boulders as a feat of strength and I could walk the tight rope and do some flips. After that, we could hunt down the goblins you just mentioned. But we would need a few more well armed misfits for the show and for the after hours fun.” Raz is getting excited about the idea and has a good natured grin on his somewhat goofy face. “Like take him,” and points to thiefling, “he could smash ale mugs on his head. When the crowd cheers, he can glare at them to keep em quit. I’ve seen the glare and let me tell you, it would work. And look at those two short swords. I bet he knows how to use them. And take her,” and points to the shifter, “she looks like she was raised by wolves! People would flock to see the wild child. Maybe she could tame a wild tiger or wrestle a bear…he he… a bear, for the show. And I bet that spear could skewer two, maybe 3 goblins at one time! Wow! The fun we could have!”


(Going back to the tower q by Digi)...”Tower? Didn’t know the tower needed to be rebuilt. Why? What happened?”


...Raz says, eyeing Digi suspiciously….


Gwenna enters the Green Tankard, stomping her feet and rubbing her hands, trying to get some warmth back into her limbs. She steps up to the bar and asks for some watered down wine from the halfling behind the counter. She nods at at the elf but her eyes widen at the sight of the giant. “don’t see many of your type around.” Then she continues, “Mistledale? I am from that region…...” her voice falls off. She looks around the room, noting the tiefling and the shapeshifter. “ah,” she thinks to herself, “this what the world is like outside the abbey.”


Although he is very busy with the first meal rush, Marsh finds a moment to answer the goliath.

With a satisfied look upon his face the hin replies,”So word has gotten out about our goblin affliction… good. I sent that word out myself ya know, but anyways, there thick as flys in the Southwood, we don’t see sign of them to much, but when we do its obvious that its tem. They do nothing to hide their tracks, yet no one dares go to deep into the Southwood to follow tem to their hideout, specially this time of year. Anyway it used to be not so bad, tem goblins would raid a farm, come round moondark or nightsend with everyone sound asleep, and take a few supplies. Sure it would hurt when the cow go missing, or a good mule, but tem can be replaced. Recently though, it seems they be taking more. It seems even some children have gone missing.”

A loud “order up” bellows from the kitchen and Marsh jumps into action.


Marsh delivers a plate of hard boiled goose eggs and sizzling sausage to one of his patrons and heads back to his respective place behind the bar. In a somewhat hushed whisper he says to the goliath and elf, “There’s actually a few who may know where the goblin lair lie… one just happens to be staying here at the Tankard,” and he cautiously points to a table where another lone person sits.


Raz turns to the lady and says “Ahhh…Mistledale…springtime is a great time there with the smell of the fresh plowed fields in the rich soils. Didn’t farm myself, but you couldn’t escape it. What part ye hail from? My name is Melieraz” and offers his hand. “What’s yours? This here is Digi,” and points to the fair haired giant.


Iris had only caught a few snippets of the conversation between the halfling bartender and the goliath, but the few words she had heard were more than enough to gather her attention. Goblins.. Great, just what I need, more goblins…

She looked around the room for a while, then took a seat quietly at the table with the Tiefling counting his coin. A curt nod was offered whether he looked up or not, but most of her attention remained on the barkeep. Surely there was someone closer that could have come to deal with this…


Amagar takes another swig of his ale, keeping his attention on his coin despite the feral-looking person sitting opposite of him. Without raising his head, he says out loud, “Got business?”


The clink clink clink of his coins continues has he idly shifts them around, counting them for a second or maybe a third time, possibly hinting that he wasn’t satisfied with the result.


Gwenna holds out her hand to the elf beside her. “ah, Mistletoe…...,” she sighs deeply. “More recently I hail from Chauntea’s temple in Archenbridge.” She touches the holy symbol around her neck. “Gwenna is my name, and well met Melieraz. She looks to the giant and extends her hand. ” I am most interested in these goblim raid myself.”


The shifter girl merely shrugged, tapping one of her ears to signal that she was listening and then motioning toward the conversation at the bar to show what she was listening to. As for why she’d chosen his table, well, neither of their kind went anywhere without a certain degree of being ostracized from the rest of the crowd.


“Great to meet you too Gwenna. And, ummm…you mean Mistledale, right? You need to water that wine down a little more, har har,” and slaps her on the back. “Well, let’s see what we can do about these goblin raids,” and then mumbling, “under the CFP banner.” Then, back to normal volume, continues, “The man in the pointy hat knows where they lair. Let’s find out.” Then turning to Marsh and in a whisper asks, “What is the name of the distinguished genetlmen you just pointed to? What does he like to drink? Give me two and I’ll head over there to find out.”


The man with the shrunken leg pushes his bowl from him and finishes off the last of his ale. Grabbing his cane, he hobbles over to the tiefling and the shifter. In a polite manner the man interrupts saying, “I couldn’t help to notice you goodfolk are not from here, I’m Sunsteen, wellmet.”

Bringing his hand to his mouth to cover his next words, Sunsteen whispers, “Are you adventurers?” A look of excitement washes over the mans face.


Marsh looks shocked, “You wish to speak to Curuvar, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The wizard has yet to finish his first cup of tea. He’s not a morning person if you know what I mean.”

A smile then washes over his face as he leaps onto the bar, “As a matter of fact…” his voice carries over the noise in the tavern.

Many of the patrons roll their eyes and some even turn their backs to him, however a few actually turn to face him, looking eager.

”...Why the Tankard’s very own Ana went up to his room early one morning to offer the man a cup of tea. She knocked softly on the door and heard no response Thinking the wizard had already left she decided to enter his chamber a leave the tea for when he returned as kind gesture of service. She open the door and was shocked to see the wizard standing there robe less. The wizard was so angry he turned her stone and I had to offer him three days free stay to get him to turn her back to normal.”


“Bwa ha ha…Naked! Bwa ha ha…turned her to stone…he he…he must have been really embarrased about, er…Well, anyway, Marsh, that was one funny story. Good thing he didn’t turn her into a newt or else you would have never found her. Thanks for the bit-o advice. I’ll wait for Curuvar to finish his tea before I go over there.”

“One of these days, Marsh, you are going to tell stories about the CFP and how a goofy elf came in here and did some spectular lay outs off your rafters. The same one who helped save the town for those child stealing goblins!” With that, Raz glances over to Curuvar to see if he has finished his tea.


“yeah, CFP… I kind of like the sound of that. especially the going out at night and stomping some goblins. I am more than certain I can get my foot high enough to do some stomping. And if not, I have an axe that we can use to drop their height a bit with… Maybe a head or so” With that the Giant Barbarian begins to guffaw and snort. obviously rather amused by his own joke.


She studied the man for a moment, wondering what kind of trouble she could be getting herself into depending on her answer. She didn’t see herself as an adventurer, and would certainly like nothing more than to go back to the forests of the Moonshae Isles and leave civilization to consume itself as it was wont to do. She chose not to answer the man, instead turning her attention to the wizard that the barkeep had pointed out and watching him for a moment before turning her attention back to the man addressing them.


Digi takes a deep breath and faces the elf, “Ah the tower… Well it is a rather long story about that. I was working as a caravan guard, and we had pulled into the courtyard of the small gatehouse for the evening, as there had been a bit of trouble on that road during the previous season. Some petty banditry mostly, but the elf who hired us on hadn’t gotten where he was by being reckless. He had most of his routes planned with safe camps that had the dual purpose of giving him an opportunity to turn a coin or two along the way. This was no exception, and our caravan had brought a rather large iron cauldron which would be used to heat pitch in case of an attack. “

“It seems that the Lord Mistledale had decided that the roof on the west tower was in need of repair, so he had hired on a small work crew there and the entire thing was covered with scaffolding and a good deal of the upper story was being renovated as well; much of the framing timbers were still exposed. The workers had rigged up a block and tackle arrangement to get the cauldron up and onto the top battlements of the gatehouse where it could be poured out onto attackers. After watching the efforts of the men attempting to lift the cauldron, I decided to offer my services and hoist the thing up for them. I grabbed the loose end of the rope and set off at a trot to pull. As I hit the end of the slack, the other guy lost his grip, and the load shifted and began to swing. Feeling a certain sense of urgency, and in reaction to the frantic cries of the others, I redoubled my efforts to get the pot up before further mishap could happen. I heard yet another cry, and feeling the distress in the panicked voice, I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and went full out to get the load up. Much to almost everyone’s surprise, the rope that was used for a dog line didn’t quite reach, and as the momentum of the rising pot jerked the poor half-elf that was manning it almost out of his breeches. He clung to it for a moment before falling, and the pot, now swinging free wild gyrations hit the scaffolding which started to buckle. As the scaffold began to fail, the pot swung back and forth a couple more times, and knocked one of the supporting timbers loose from the tower, and the whole thing came undone…”

“When the pulley broke free and the rope I was pulling suddenly went slack, I looked up and saw the giant pot crashing through the half-framed wall, and falling down the inside of the tower. Clanking and banging all the way down the collapsing stairwell. When it hit bottom, a giant crack started opening; starting a few inches up from the base, and widening as it progressed up toward open top. Several pieces of stonework started to break free and everyone was just able to get clear as we watched the tower tremble then fall slowly in upon itself.”

“Lord Mistledale was mighty upset, and refused to pay for the cauldron (which had cracked and was now worthless) my employer blamed me for the fiasco (pfft the nerve), and I was asked to leave the company (without being paid for the 5 weeks I had coming to me) – in fact, the encampment as a whole was up in arms and pushed me out through the gate as night fell to make my own way through the woods on my own. I struck out to the southwest along the road, and picked up new employment in Tilverton with another caravan headed west towards Baldur’s Gate.”

The Goliath takes a distant look and pauses for a moment, “ A pity… I would really have liked to make it to Baldur’s Gate … I was so looking forward to the chance to buy a new brush there… Well, at least nobody got hurt with that business in Triel.”


Aravilar looks up at the man from his seat to make his reply: “Not really, I work for pay. Also, I don’t speak for the woman. She’s just eavesdropping on the crowd over there by the bar,” and with that he makes an obvious pointing gesture at the golden mullet in the room. With that he cleans up his coin and re-deposits his coin purse back into his belt pouch. “I suppose you wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t have work to be done. Chances are I could do better than an ‘adventurer’ with some heirloom sword and over-bloated head.”


Sunsteen replies, “Well, I don’t have any work for you, but if you are looking to stay for a while I could put a good word in for you with the river master. He’s always looking for laborers to help with moving merchant goods. You don’t mind laborer, right? The only reason why I ask is because I’ve always been fond of adventurers. I’ve always wanted to go on an adventure, but this leg wouldn’t allow it, right.”


As Raz looks over to the bearded wizard he notices that Curuvar looks oblivious to the Tankards activities going on around him. His table is covered with what looks to be ancient scrolls. As Curuvar studies he slowly strokes his long beard, occasionally lifting his cup to sip its contents.


A strong wind begins to howl outside, rattling the window panes of the Tankard. Having finished their first meal, many of the patrons begin to leave, however Sunsteen and Curuvar remain.


Gwenna smiles at Digi’s story. She leans closer to Raz and quietly says, “I am interested in finding the children that the goblins stole. And it appears that you might be interested too.. May I accompany you when you talk to that man?” She glances over to Curuvar. “I might be able decipher what is on those scrolls.”


Raz busts out laughing at Digi’s story. “You have GOT to be kidding! ha ha…Lord Denarian must have turned 3 shades of red on his bald head. Wow! You accomplished in a few minutes what the drow have been trying to do over the last several decades. And you’ve invented a new siege weapon. An empty caldrun. You, my friend, are very talented. As if that was not enough, you go and destroy something in Triel? I can’t wait to here that one!”

Then turns to Gwenna, “Good idea. Let’s the 3 of us go over as the newest, and only, members of CFP, if you are OK with that, and see what the wizard has to say.”

Raz heads over to the wizard and says “Good morning fine sir. You must be Curuvar. I’m Raz, a proud member of the CFP. Mind if we sit down and chat about the recent troubles around here? Maybe we can help.”


The wizard looks up from his studies…

((I’m going to need a Diplomacy check Raz, and If Gweena and Digi would like to assist they need to make one also))


((Raz diplomacy check (1d20 -1 ) = 7 ))


Digi smiles, and looks to the wizard with a pleasant expression. as the moment drags uncomfortably on, he adds “Seriously, sir, we HAVE heard that there is trouble afoot with local Goblins. W aim to help, and the gentleman at the bar said you might have some information. we would be most appreciative and if you could give us a tip on where to start.” (Diplomacy Check: 1d20: 3 not good.)


((This is getting funny :P ))


(Unfortunately Gweena’s check isn’t going to help)

The wizened wizard takes a good look at the intrusion to his studies before speaking. It seems he is weighing your worth with a glance. What seems like an eternity he finally speaks, “The CF..what?” He begins to laugh and grabs another piece of parchment and begins comparing it to the one that is already in front of him.


Raz is stunned. Making sure to talk loud enough for the other patrons to hear, he says “You laugh??! There are children out there suffering and scared and you sit there comfortable by the warm fire, reading your all important papers. The children are right at this moment being terrorized by some filthy goblins and yet you sit there and do nothing. All we want to know is where the goblins may be hiding, which I think you know where that may be. Then I and my friends intend to do something about it while you sit here and laugh and read!

Please, I beg you, think of the children! They are our future. We have no future if the civilized peoples of the land sit and do nothing while our children are stolen, abused and killed. All you need to do is give us a little bit of information and we will right this wrong.”


Amagar goes for his tankard and is disappointed to find it empty. The extra bit of frustration over that stacks on top of what he was already experiencing with the over-righteous shouting and compels him to shout back “What about my suffering where I have to listen to you vocalize the problems of the world?...” he then directs his shouting at Marsh “Without Ale!” With that, he slams his empty tankard on the table and holds it up in the air for Marsh to see.


Curuvar looks up from his work once again, this time looking the elf straight in the eye. In a sullen tone he says, “It seems you’re ambitious enough… let me ask you this. So you believe those dull goblins are guilty of thieving away Loudwater’s children? By Mystra’s lost spell, you may be right, however when I visited the Barrow of the Ogre King, your goblin’s so called lair, I saw no sign of the children. What I did find though was not what I was looking for. I took the goblins horn totem as a souvenir. Tell you what-if you recover the matching skull totem from the barrow, I’ll tell you the truth about the Ogre King.”


When Amagar looks to the bar he sees Marsh talking to a couple of what look to be riverfolk, obviously engaged in one of his stories again. Marsh briefly looks to the tiefling and holds up his index finger as if to say, “One moment.”

For what seems to be far to long for a patron needing service, Marsh finally comes over to Amagar’s table with a slight skip in his step. He’s whistling a jolly tune and carrying a tankard with a thick head of froth. As he sets the tankard down in front of the tiefling, its contents splash a bit onto the table. Marsh quickly pulls out a towel which he keeps loosely tucked into his breeches and begins to wipe up the spill. As he does so he says, “There ye go… can I get you anything else? Perhaps something for the, ah hem… lady?”


Raz is vaguely aware of shouting from the din, but maintains his concentration on the wizard. He steels himself and stares back at the human and says, in more normal tones, “I assure you, I can be very focused when the need arises. Don’t let my sometimes sophmoric antics fool you. Please tell us where the Barrow is and we will retrieve the totem. And if the children are not there, we will find them where ever they may be.”


Gwenna smiles warmly at the wizard. Hoping for a better response than her new companion received, she glances at the scrolls that the wizard has in his hands. “ah, old scrolls. I too am interested in learning of the old ways.” Gwenna looks at scrolls to see if she can determine what is on the scrolls. (Arcana/religion check (1d20 + 5): 9 + 5 = 14).


Iris rises from her seat as the halfling comes over to bring Amagar his new drink, using her spear as a walking staff as she headed for the door, having heard enough from listening in on Curuvar and the boisterous elf to have some clue as to what questions to ask the forest’s denizens.

She pulled her winter cloak tight about herself before pushing through the door and once clear of the doorway she wasted no time in heading for the western exit from the city, then made her way south towards the trees. As soon as she reached the forest she shifted into a timber wolf with a thick coat of fur, intent on hunting first and then looking for signs of the goblins or this Barrow the wizard had mentioned.


Curuvar begins to give Melieraz detailed directions to the barrow, “The goblins made their barrow in the ancient ruins of Torarr (give me a History check or Streetwise check for more info). The barrow lies southeast of Loudwater, a little over 3 leagues into Southwood. It will take you a whole day of travel, for their is no track, and the Southwood is thick with undergrowth. When you find Torarr, enter the gatehouse and into the courtyard beyond. Within the courtyard you will find the entrance into the barrow.”

Gweena cannot make heads or tails of the ancient scrolls, they don’t seem to be magic or religious in nature and are written in a language she doesn’t recognize.

Iris feels the bite of winter, even in her beast form(I need an Endurance Check for Iris). A strong wind blows snow in her eyes and whistles in her ears making it difficult to see or hear. She soon finds that its too cold for even the game of the forest. Most have burrowed deep to escape the days cold.


Raz comtemplates about the ruins of Torarr (History (1d20 = 3) for a moment and then thanks Curuvar for the directions and says “You will not be disappointed. One last thing. The weather is particulary harsh right now, even for those trained and prepared for it. Once we have gathered our CFP band together, would you have some sort of protection you could afford us for the journey?”


(Raz has no knowledge of Torarr or the Ogre King)

Curuvar nods yes to Raz’s request for help, “I have just the thing for your journey. Come see me when you and your CFP are ready.”


(Endurance Check: 1d20 + 7: 15 + 7 = 22)

Feeling the bitter chill, Iris soon realized she wasn’t going to find any fare on the hunt.. and that even in this form she would not be able to withstand the cold long enough to find the goblins on her own. Hackles raised and a snarl on her muzzle, she returned to the west gate of the city, changing form just before she left the cover of the woods and then running for the gates to keep warm..

Remembering the scene in the tavern she’d been in earlier, she made her way there.. If the Goliath and Elf were still there and by some miracle were serious about wanting to help against the goblins, then she would find a way to get them to help her.. As it was, if she couldn’t find them, or they had no real interest in dealing with the goblins and were as she suspected little more than show, she’d need to find a temple of Silvanus and pray for some fortification against the cold.


Feeling a little uncertain that the 3 members of the CFP would be enough to assault a goblin tribe, he looks around for the thiefling and the shifter he spotted earlier and noted for their entertainment potential and weapons. Disappointed to find the shifter gone, he approaches the thiefling, hoping he wouldn’t regret it. “Good morning sir, my name is Raz. May I sit down?”


“Yeeaah!” says the Goliath as Curuvar details the location to the goblins lair to Raz. “Finally some activity that doesn’t have to do with watching herd beasts pull wagons from place to place.”

“Ruins of Torarr” he thinks to himself ((History Check on the ruins of Torarr 1d20: 8)) “I wonder what happened to the place?”

after a short pause for reflection, he shrugs and follows the elf to the table and measures up the tiefling. In an instant, he leans on the table and speaks.

“you have a look of durability and savvy. We aim to go after these goblins in their lair, and would like you to come with us.” as he speaks, Digi slowly begins to absently pull out a chair as if to sit then “you don’t mind if i sit do you?”


Aravilar looks at the shifter as she leaves the bar, muttering “just the same as the way she came here” to Marsh with a shrug and then directing his attention towards his ale.

A short time after, his drink is disturbed by a goliath and an elf. In response to their presence and questions, he gives a gruff response: “Something tells me you would no matter what I say. Fine, what’s this about goblins?”


(Iris is able to fend off the bitter effects of the cold)

(Digi has no knowledge of Torarr or the Ogre King)


Raz backs up to give the enormous Digi room, hoping he won’t bang the table with his shin and knock something over. Still, if he even fits on the chair, it may come crashing to the floor. Seeing the potential breakage and spillage, Raz decides to stand and to the side a little bit.

Addressing the thiefling, “The CFP, which is us, has learned the location of the goblin lair and are intent are rescuing the children that may be there. Will you join us?” Then remembering how meticuoulsy the thiefling was counting his coins earlier, Raz says “Where there are goblins, there is loot. So, it could be profitable for you as well.”


Gwenna stays seated at the wizard’s table. Those scrolls interest her. But she thinks a moment about the Ruins of Torrar and the Ogre King (Streetwise check (1d20 + 2): 4 + 2 = 6). no, nothing comes to her. She smiles at the wizard and says, ” I am curious about those scrolls you are looking at. Can I be so bold to ask you about them? I too am a student of ancient ways.” Her eyes raise to study the wizard’s face. She ponders his person… this an honest man? are his motives pure? She wants to get of a sense of him (insight (1d20 + 9): 3 + 9 = 12)


Amagar scratches his chin. “So, you want to hire me with the chance that there’s something of value in a lair full of foul-smelling wretches wielding various sharp objects? Not to mention the weather. As odd as it might sound for someone traveling so far north, I’m not exactly one who appreciates cold climates.”

Amagar takes another swig from his ale for warmth, the mere thought of being out in those howling winds giving him a chill.


Having appealed to a sense of chivalry on one hand and to greed on the other, with neither seeming to pique the tiefling’s interest, Raz continues on with little hope, “The goblins are in the ruins of Torarr, and I’m guessing there are more than just goblins there. And, Curuvar, whom I’ve just spoken with, has offered some protection from the weather for our journey. So, why not just gather your supplies and join us for some fun? It will be more interesting than sitting around here drinking yourself silly, wondering what could have been.”


Rather than going straight back to the Green Tankard, Iris instead started looking around town for anything akin to a Grove or temple, hoping to find another Druid that could help her, though she’d still have to find a way to communicate with him or her. Even in the city streets it was cold enough that her spear rested on her shoulder, held in the same hand that she used to hold her cloak tight to her form.


(As far as Gweena can tell, Curuvar is not hiding anything).

“Oh these,” the wizard says, “There nothing really, just some essays on Karse’s Folly”

Iris finds the Temple of Silvannus (area 12) and it’s separated from the shops, homes and tenements of Loudwater by a small hedge. The vine-covered walls of the temple rise high above the walls of Loudwater, and the spire’s tip appears to reach a full 100 feet above the ground. The symbol of an oak leaf gleams with its own emerald light above the grand archway leading into the temple.


“Hmm… well, given that the cold isn’t going to be a factor, I could go along with this. This had better wind up being worth my while, though!” With that, Amagar downs the remainder of his ale and gets up from his table, leaving the common hall for his own room to gather his belongings.


looking to Raz. Digi smiles. “this is gonna be fun”

then using the polished side of his axe as a mirror, he checks that his mane is properly arranged.

“Do you think we will find a brush anywhere along the way? I haven’t had a decent brush since Triel.”


“Yeah, this will be fun. You stomp them, Gwenna and I’ll stick them with my arrows and bolts and our new friend can slash them. What was his name? It will be stomp, stick, slash and save the children type of job. The SSSS job…he he.

“A brush? Come on, Digi, you’re a barbarian. Just use your fingers like a comb. Or maybe a fork. I’m sure Marsh has one he could lend you.


Iris eyed the Temple oddly, unaccustomed to such a civilized display of her faith, but made her way within anyways, looking around for any other Druids present, and decidedly uncomfortable despite this being a place dedicated to her god.. She much preferred the more natural feel of the Groves she trained in back home.

When she found Brother Griffon, she greeted him in the Druidic hand-sign, then removed her totem from around her neck to show him. The markings carved into it’s rear face would inform him of her vow to Silvanus not to speak for a year and a day, and she hoped, get his full attention. It was rare for one committed to such a path to leave their own Grove, much less travel as far as she had already.


When the tiefling gets back, Raz takes a deep breath and approaches Curuvar and says “We are ready to head to the Barrow. We four and my feathered friend Screech,” holding out his arm calling the falcon from the rafters, where it had been lounging unnoticed, “will need the protection.”


Although Iris is unaccustomed to a Temple of the Tree Father of this sort, she is quite surprised to find it’s quiet interior calming. The interior walls are painted to resemble the sky, and the main floor is one expansive area dominated by a grassy hill around which a crown of trees gently sways in an endless breeze. The atmosphere inside the temple is impressively different than the cold weather outside.

When Iris finds Brother Griffon he gives her a warm smile and signs back “Alae”.

Several loud bells begin frantically ringing. “It’s Loudwater’s warning bells, there’s trouble outside the walls,” Brother Griffon says with concern.

A faint boom is then heard and the floor of the temple gently rumbles.

Meanwhile, back at the Tankard, when Raz approaches Curuvar, the thunderous boom is much more violent. A concussive blast hits the Tankard as if a hundred lighting bolts had struck the place. Windows shatter as warm air floods the tavern’s interior. The blast knocks most to the floor and as they rise again to their feet, blood can be seen running from their ears and nose.

Sunsteen is on the floor clutching his shrunken leg which is wreathed in blue flame. His teeth is clenched and his brow deeply furrowed. He rolls around as if he was having an epileptic fit.

The sounds of townspeople screaming can be heard from outside in the Southsquare. One of the Tankard’s patrons pulls themselves up from the floor and glances outside, peeking through one of the broken windows.

“The South wall has been breeched and goblins are attacking,” the patron cries!

Curuvar, who seems unaffected by the blast, says in a calm manner, “By Mystra’s lost spell, I thought they would have been here sooner.”


(The next scene is a Tactical Encounter. The encounter will occur in the South Square and that’s where PCs will start. Everyone in the Tankard will start right outside the door, and Iris will start from either the road entering the square from the North or East (your choice Sam). You can RP the moments before the encounter if you wish, but we will resolve the combat Sat. night, hopefully :P)


Gwenna, slightly shaken by the upheaval, turns to Curuvar, “what is going on? they? who is THEY?”


“It appears the barrow has come to you”, Curuvar responds.


Iris signs an apology to Brother Griffon and shifts into a raven, flying out through one of the temple’s windows to find the source of the alarm, and taking her normal form once she is back on the streets and heading towards the South Square, coming in from the north. This wasn’t her forest, and these weren’t her people… She would see what the problem was before deciding if she would intervene or not.


Shaken by the blast, Amagar curses at the situation. “It looks like your foul little friends are about to give me another reason to go kill them.” Amagar dashes to the front door and, in one motion, draws his blades and kicks the front door open. He then braces against the frozen wind and steps outside, looking for some cover outside to shield himself from the cold and goblins while managing to look around and assess the situation.


Raz says “GACK! Oh, no, Goblins breached the walls! WE ARE ALL DOOMED!” Instead of heading out the front door, he tries to rush through the kitchen and out a back door or window.


Digi howls with fury, shaking his mane from side to side to rid it of the dust that has fallen from the rafters. Glad to have his axe at hand, he takes comfort from the heft of the weapon. Seeing Raz begin to act unseemly, the grabs the elf by the cloak, and says “Get yourself together man! Now is the time for the CFP to stomp some goblins and show this town how these things are done.”

The Goliath then begins to head for the front door listening for the sounds of violence to direct him to the proper location to unleash carnage.

“YEAARRGGHH!” he howls as he begins to psych himself to a proper rage, shaking his head violently from side to side with tiny flecks of spittle beginning to fly from his lips. “ubba ubba ubba ubba! “

“Gobble… gobble… gobble… goblineses what is it you are looking for?” “Gobble… gobble…. gobble goblins! i am here!!! YEAHAERGHH! ubba ubba ubba ubba! Come get it, cause it aint going anywhere!”


After being jolted by Digi, Raz tries to gather himself, this being the first intense combat he has been in. He tells himself “Focus, Raz, focus on your training.” After a moment he thinks about the tactics Tharis had taught him. Then he says “Ummm…I was actually going out the back and try to flank the goblins from a covered position. Then I will rain down withering fire from my bow!” With that, he more resolutelyl moves to the back of the inn, hoping to exit through the rear and move east, using the building and trees as cover.


...and as Raz heads out a rear exit, he unslings his bow and puts in his off hand and then draws a dagger.

strokes strokes

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