Game logs

[Merc]

Note: Logs have been edited/cleaned up for reader consumption. >_>

***

Day 1: Where the Drunken Dwarf is instead a Sickly Dwarf

<GM-Rat> Tethyr, 1972DR. Barely recoverd from a series of devasting civil wars that rocked the nobility and peasantry of the land alike, Tethyr has gotten back on it's feet. The new nobility, even if not yet trusted by the common man, has at least been accepted, and under the wise rule of Queen Rhindaun and King Haedrak III, it should soon be the bustling, progressive nation it always wanted to be.
<GM-Rat> Or will it? Tethyr has always had a history of internal strife, thanks to the frequently-scheming nobles of the land. Granted, most of the old guard died in the recent wars, and the relatively young new nobility, though they are presently more concerned with public opinion that individual status, still frequently grasp onto power wherever they can find it.
<GM-Rat> Outside of organizing the nobility, the current major concern of Tethyr is dealing with the remaining bandit gangs and monsters- goblinoids and orcs, mostly- that still threaten the stability of the region. The elves have retreated into the Wealdath, the great forest of Tethyr, and guard it carefully from all kinds of monster.
<GM-Rat> The dwarves of the Starspire mountains are too few in number to aid in any sort of monster-clearing effort, leaving the only option of Tethyr up to it's recently broken armies. With little left from the civil wars, most military time is spent in training, and whilst the larger cities of the region remain relatively safe, the outlying areas and the vast plains of the land are still dangerous.
<GM-Rat> Therefore, anyone who can swing a sword or cast a spell is a welcome sight to most of the Tethyr. Peasants see adventurers as heroes, and the nobility see them as an expediant way of dealing with orcs and goblins- one that boosts public opinion and doesn't risk their own soldiers to boot.
<GM-Rat> Bounty-hunting monsters is not the only thing that an industrious adventurer could find in Tethyr, however, but it is where plenty are deciding to start- it will almost certainly raise them highly in the opinions of the nobility, and from there, who knows what opportunity awaits?

<GM-Rat> <->

<GM-Rat> Checking his map, Tybalt ascertains that the village in front of him is named 'Kaire', and as he walks into the, he can see it certainly is worse for the wear. As to be expected, given the rumors he'd heard of the place. Nestled alongside the border of Calimshan, it's a small farming community- fairly typical of around here, really. What makes it immediately remarkable to him are two things; firstly, the charred, burned-out buildings
<GM-Rat> firstly, the charred, burned-out buildings on the edge of the village, and secondly, the large mob of people gathered in the centre of the village, outside what looks to be the mayor's house.
* Tybalt folds his map up and sticks it through his belt, then heads curiously towards the mob.
<Tybalt> What are they saying?
<GM-Rat> As Tybalt approaches the mob, he can start to make out mumblings and demands. "Why hasn't anything been done?" "What's taking Lord Fyral so long?" "Where are the knights?" The general mood is more fearful than angry- and the speaker, a tired-looking man, can seemingly hardly muster the effort to reply.
* Tybalt puts his hands on his hips, and watches.
<Tybalt> "This seems a bit tense," he thinks.
<GM-Rat> After a short while, the speaker, standing just in front of the mayor's house, finally responds; "There's nothing more I can do, I swear! I've sent messengers to Fyral- by the hells, I've sent them to Douglas, and Lady Jemarra- but none of them have yet returned! When they do, I will let you all know, but until then... please, try to remain calm. Lock your doors. And trust in our militia. We were caught by surprise last week.. it will
<GM-Rat> When they do, I will let you all know, but until then... please, try to remain calm. Lock your doors. And trust in our militia. We were caught by surprise last week.. it will not happen again."
<GM-Rat> At that, the crowd begins to disperse- though Tybalt can catch some mutterings... "Damned useless mayor.. and his lord isn't much better, either..."
* Tybalt watches them leave, and bites his bottom lip. He frowns slightly, then heads towards the speaker.
<GM-Rat> The speaker- now that you can get a better look at him, he's just a young man- is decidedly downcast. As you approach, he shakes his head, beginning to speak. "I'm sorry, but there- oh! You're not from around here. What brings you to Kaire?" He glances at the sword on your belt with a little trepidation- but quite some hope.
* Tybalt bows.
<Tybalt> "Allow me to introduce myself," Tybalt said, "I am Tybalt of Sune. A paladin in Her service."
<GM-Rat> "A paladin!" says the mayor, his head snapping up. "Did Fyral send you?"
* Tybalt shakes his head.
<Tybalt> "No," Tybalt replied, "I was simply passing through, saw you in a bit of trouble back there."
<Tybalt> "Can I be of assistance?"
<GM-Rat> "Perhaps!" replies the mayor, creasing his brow. "We were.. attacked.. recently, and everyone is fearful," he says. "Orcs and goblins, you see. They hide in the nearby forest, and we've always been used to hearing about their attacks on travellers.. but they have never worked up the nerve to come after our town."
* Tybalt nods.
<Tybalt> "I see."
<GM-Rat> "I fear that one man could do little, for they are many. Our wizard- now, he was quite the capable one- could defend us against them... if they hadn't pilfered his spellbook last week!"
* Tybalt cracks his knuckles.
<Tybalt> "If you would like, I can stay around for a bit," Tybalt said, "Keep an eye out for your village. I'm in no rush to go anywhere in particular."
* Tybalt smiles, his amber eyes aglow.
<GM-Rat> "Well... we would certainly welcome a strong swordarm," replies the mayor. "I'll have a word with the innkeeper. If you promise to defend us, I'll pay for your room and board... who knows? But something must be done about this situation soon. If Lord Fyral does not send soldiers, then... then I don't know what to do." He sighs at that, and starts looking downcast again.
* Tybalt grins rakishly.
<Tybalt> "That sounds good," he said happily.
<GM-Rat> "Well.. I believe that a.. fighting monk is at the temple of Illmater," muses the mayor. "Perhaps I can form some expedition.. but there are too few able men, here." He shakes his head. "Idle musing. Just idle musing. Here, I'll show you to the inn..."

<GM-Rat> <->

<GM-Rat> From the north, the direction of Amn, walked a pair of boots. Filling these boots was a young (if a century or so can be considered 'young' in human lands) elfmaiden, who came to Kaire with *purpose*. Admittedly, she may have been starting to question her step- especially with that dead man lying on the side of the road with an arrow through his neck- but the last contact her family had given her was for one 'Rion Karian', a mage who
<GM-Rat> He had moved back to his home village of Kaire soon after, never to teach again. Or so he thought, at least, for he still owed the Tremere family a favour, and what better way to cash it in than to have him instruct one of their daughters- one with no small potential, at that?
<GM-Rat> The burnt-out buildings on the outskirts of the town were doing nothing for Siret's confidence, though, but from her directions, she knew that Rion lived in a house somewhere near the centre of town- a distinctive house, with his magic symbol upon the door.
<GM-Rat> At present, Siret can see a dispersing mob, and a ruffled, depressed-looking man leading another, more-cheerfully looking swordsman to an inn. A couple of people raise an eyebrow when they see her elven heritage, but nobody tries to talk to her.
<Siret> Siret continues forward, her steps as light and quiet as any other elf along the road. She frowns at the curious looks, but raising her hood now, in the middle of town, would attract even more attention. With nary a hesitation, she continues towards the center of town, keeping an eye out for the sigil of her family's 'friend'.
<GM-Rat> That looks like it. Siret comes before a fairly large house, at least by normal peasant standards. There's certainly a sigil on the front, but it's charred; like a sigil made of ash, instead of one carved out of wood. Similar to how the runes of certain magical traps look after they go off. A small sign hangs next to the door; "Please knock before entering."
* Siret smiles wryly. The burnt buildings at the edge of town would have suggested this being a possibility, but he probably wasn't hurt, not with a mob of peasants around, and his spells. Raising her hand, pale skin ungloved for the moment, she knocks four times.
<GM-Rat> An angry-looking half-elf throws open the door, glad in an undershirt and tattered-looking pants. "If you'd excuse me, I'm- oh. You.. you.. who were you supposed to be, again?"
<Siret> "Siret Tremere," Siret informs gently, treating this man with at least a little respect, and a nod, even if his appearance is rather laughable.
<GM-Rat> "Ah, the Tremere girl. Training, was it?" replies the mage, nodding. "Please, ah, come in. I'll get dressed.. and then we'll talk." He opens the door wide for you, then vanishes into a back room of his house- which looks like the house of a professional scribe than a mage. There are no items of obvious magical power lying about, no great staves or mysterious orbs. Just paper- lots of paper, stacked neatly and arranged perfectly- and b
<GM-Rat> Just paper- lots of paper, stacked neatly and arranged perfectly- and books. Shelves full of books- surprisngly, more on history and lore than any on spells. In fact, Siret can't see a single magic-related thing in the room.
* Siret smiles at the familiar surroundings. A lot like her own home, only smaller, much smaller, and perhaps a little more limited as far as subjects. The lack of magic is strange, but that would have to wait for Rion to provide an explanation. Closing the door behind herself, Siret waits for him.
<GM-Rat> Rion soon returns, dressed in a neat shirt and more suitable pants, along with a short black jacket. He ties some loose brown hair into a topknot, then eyes Siret speculatively. "Training, you say. It has been some time since I last taught, but ordinarily, I would have no qualms about educating a scion of Tremere." He frowns, pensively. "Unfortunately for the both of us, my spellbook was stolen only last week. You understand the.. dif
<GM-Rat>  You understand the.. difficulties... of educating without my own material."
<Siret> "Ah...yes," Siret agrees in vague amusement. shifting her own pack, and the book contained within. "Do you know who or what took your spellbook?"
<GM-Rat> "Absolutely," replies Rion, spitting out a curse. "The blasted goblins did! A week ago today, this village was raided by the flearidden idiots. They burnt the outlying farms- surely you saw them as you entered- and butchered a few of the folk before the militia rallied. I myself slew several- only to return here to find my traps triggered, a pile of goblin corpses, and the book gone."
<GM-Rat> "I theorize that it was their sole reason for raiding this far into the village- they usually don't even destroy, merely thieve away bags of grain and whatnot."
* GM-Rat is now known as GM-Rat
* Siret nods, wincing slightly at the foul language, though she knows even worse terms herself. "I see...but why would goblins steal a spellbook? The vermin are rarely capable of using such a tome, if ever."
<GM-Rat> "Stupid the beasts might be, but anyone can see the value of depriving a wizard of his spells," replies Rion, snorting. "Perhaps they are in the employ of someone who can use it. One way or the other, I can do no teaching unless it is recovered. I would hire mercenaries... but I fear to leave the village to find some without my magic, and there are few enough such types here."
<GM-Rat> "It galls me, to be sure- why, I have a scrying spell still memorized! I could easily find out the precise location of the spellbook- just no way of getting to it."
<Siret> "Mmm..." Siret hums in thought. "There was a swordsman heading to...I think it was an inn, when I arrived. It would depend on how many goblins there are, but it adds possibility."
<GM-Rat> "Hmm.. a swordsman, you say? Could he be the reponse sent by lord Fy- no, he would have sent many soldiers, to be sure. Still, yes, possibility.. I believe there is a monk staying in town, too. Broken One, or some such. He's staying at the Church of Illmater. I wonder..."
<GM-Rat> "...I am sure Mayor Devan would relish the thought of dealing with a few of those goblins. He may even offer a bounty on them. If that were so, and a suitable group could be formed, would you be adverse to hunting some goblins and rescuing a spellbook?"
<Siret> "With a suitable guard, no..." Siret agrees, frowning a little. "The spellbook, yes, definitely worth it."
<GM-Rat> "Then I will speak with the Mayor at once," announces Rion, gathering up his things. "It would be best if you came wit- no, perhaps you could look into the church," he says. "See if you can speak to the monk staying there. Certainly, I think he will aid you- probably with no expectation of a reward, though I'm sure Devan will give him one for killing some goblins."
<Siret> "I'll try," Siret agrees, frowning a little. Teachers may demand such things though, and it isn't really below her. "Which way is the church?"
<GM-Rat> "To the east of town," replies Rion. "It's not far. The church rests on top of a hill; it's not very large. I will meet you in front of the inn once I'm done.
<Siret> Siret nods, pulling her hood up this time, before they leave. The sun was an unmerciful thing this time of year. "Very well."
<GM-Rat> "Good," replies Rion. "I will see you soon." He opens the door for you, and when you are both out, he walks practically across the road to the Mayor's house, and lets himself in.
* Siret begins her walk east, to the supposed location of the church of Illmater.
<GM-Rat> While Siret makes her way to the church, Kethean stands guard at the front door.
<GM-Rat> Kethean arrived at the village a couple of weeks ago and was invited to stay at the church for a while by an old cleric; when the goblins raided the town, the town's mayor had practically begged him to stay longer, and so he had. Often, he saw plenty of figures attending Illmater's church, for who does not experience a setback or loss every now and then, and wish to be comforted?
<GM-Rat> Today, however, it seemed as if half the village was approaching the temple- among them, one distinctive figure. It was hard to tell, but Kethean was sure it was an elf, or at least a half-elf. Wearing a hood, of course, made it uncertain, but she was walking up towards the temple, much faster than the slower, tired-looking peasants nearby.
<GM-Rat> The church itself was not a large affair; only a single story, and with only a single front door, it was still a grander sight than the rest of the village. Illmaters symbol, a pair of hands tied up with cord, was pained on and over the front entrance to the church.
* Siret approaches the church, remaining at a relatively stately pace, and trying to meet eyes with the monk. "You...are the monk staying here?" she asks, her eyes flickering across the obvious monkly paraphenalia.
<Kethean> "I am," Kethean says simply with a polite nod.
<Siret> "My...instructor, Rion Karian, is trying to put together a group to counter-attack the globlin raiders. He asked that I request your participation in this."
* Kethean nods again. "I see. I had been asked to stay around to help with the situation, so I'll be glad to be of assistance."
<Siret> "Are you available now? We were to meet in front of the inn soon..." Siret inquires, her fingers playing with the edge of her cloak. Oh, if only this was a library.
<Kethean> A smile at that request. She must not talk with many of Ilmater's followers. "I am always available to those in need of help," he answers, still smiling. "I would ask that you wait 'til I inform the cleric of the church the situation."
<Siret> "I will," Siret agrees easily, returning the smile witha very slight one of her own.
<Kethean> "One moment then," is the only reply as he enters the compound, seeking the old cleric in charge, or anybody else who could pass on the message for him.
<GM-Rat> The old cleric is quietly talking to a distressed-looking woman, calming her, soothing her. Dressed in ecclesiastic robes, the cleric looks like much of the town- tired. This one, however, is a cynical one; throughout his long life, he has seen plenty in the course of his devotion to Illmater, and the suffering he has witnessed has certainly coloured his worldview.
<Kethean> Giving a small apologetic bow as he stands in front of the two, Kethean interrupts. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I wished to inform you that my presence has been requested in dealing with the goblin situation, so I will be departing."
<GM-Rat> OOC: Seeeeense motive!
<GM-Rat> The cleric waves to show you he understands, and his eyes flash as his face turns away- is that resentment? One way or the other, you certainly have leave to go.
* Kethean feels some surprise at that, but does not push in that matter, instead taking his leave. He takes a small detour to grab his backpack, before exiting the church and joining the elf/half-elf.

<GM-Rat> <->

<GM-Rat> Meanwhile, back at the inn...
<GM-Rat> Tybalt has hardly had time to get settled in his (very sparse- just a bed, a small table, and a chair) room before there's a knock on his door.
* Tybalt finishes laying a red cloth over the small, rickety table and turns, eyebrows raised. Not worrying about redonning his chain shirt, he goes to open the door a crack.
<GM-Rat> It's the mayor, who is looking optimistic rather than depressed.
<Tybalt> "Eh?" he says, looking out into the hallway.
<Tybalt> "Oh, your Honour," Tybalt says warmly, noting the bronze mayoral chain, "What can I help you with?"
<GM-Rat> "Ah, yes, Sir Tybalt," says the mayor. "Please, come with me. We are.. debating a solution to the goblin problem."
<Tybalt> "Of course." Tybalt nodded and grinned, "Please give me a minute to get ready."
<GM-Rat> "As you wish. When you are ready, please come outside," says the mayor, before departing."
* Tybalt turns back inside his room and chuckles. He dresses fully, kisses his medallion of Sune and slips the copper chain over his head, to clink against his breast. He belts his scimitar, then comes out of his room, locking the door behind him.

<GM-Rat> <->

<GM-Rat> A short while later, Siret, Kethean, Tybalt, Rion, and Mayor Devan are gathered outside the inn. "Ah, Rion. This is the mage you were talking about?" says Devan, extending a hand to Siret. "Good, good. And well it is to see you again, master Kethean." He's clearly excited, now.
* Tybalt stares admiringly at Siret.
* Siret shakes the mayor's hand, nodding to him.
<GM-Rat> "Well. Let us get down to business," says Rion. "Naturally, nobody wants to see more goblins attacking the village. It would likely be impossible to eradicate all the goblins.. but we are on our guard, now. Despite the villagers fears, I suspect we will suffer no more serious damage."
<GM-Rat> "One way or the other, however, it would do some good to slay a few of the cowardly brutes. Certainly, if we strike out against them, they would become discouraged," continues Devan. "And now that we have the means to do so, I do not wish to hesitate. I will pay you all well, of course- 25gp for every.. ah, what was it, Rion?"
<GM-Rat> "Scalps, lord mayor," replies Rion. "25 gold for every scalp you can bring us. Not only that, but as you may have all heard, my spellbook was captured by the thugs. If you can return it to me, I'll make it worth your while. All of you," he says, though his eyes come to rest upon Siret.
<GM-Rat> "Is this acceptable? I can certainly point you in the right direction to start looking in."
* Tybalt holds up his hand.
<Tybalt> "25 gold pieces is too much," he says, slightly conflicted, "Surely the money would be better put to repairing your village?"
<GM-Rat> Rion and Devan look at each other for a moment. "I suppose," starts Devan, as Rion says, "Not at all." Then they look at each other again, and Devan eventually shrugs. "I do not consider it so small a sum to pay for our safety," he says.
* Tybalt looks somewhat crestfallen, and scratches his short red hair.
<Kethean> "I will do what I can to protect your villagers, lord mayor. The money is not something I find that necessary myself. Pay as you feel is right," Kethean comments. If they felt so strongly about paying them such money, he could simply funnel it back to the community by donating it to the church of Ilmater.
* Siret breathes a little easier as her family's friend interjects slightly. "I for one, would appreciate it...the studies of magic are not inexpensive by any stretch," she offers softly. "I would not wish to strain your coffers, if it were an issue, though," she adds, refusing to look at the swordsman.
* Tybalt 's face brightens slightly. "Maybe I could donate it back?"
<GM-Rat> "Well.. uh, if that is your will," replies Devan, shrugging, as Rion says, "Well, we don't *need* it...". They look at each other again, before Rion just shakes his head. "When you want me to scry out the location of the goblin tribe, I'll be in my house," he says, before walking back.
* Tybalt smiles, resolved in his course of action, then turns to Siret.
<Tybalt> "Arasi," he says, taking one of her hands and bowing slightly, "Pleased to meet you. I am Tybalt Ha'shazir, paladin of Sune."
<Siret> "Ah..." Siret stumbles, wondering at the sudden introduction. "Siret," she offers in reply, slowly pulling her hand back from the paladin, and turning to the monk. "Your name...?"
<Kethean> "Kethean Evenwood," the man replies with a small bow.
* Tybalt recovers his composure and makes a quick study of Kethean.
* Siret nods, clasping her hands behind herself, inside her cloak. "It's nice to meet both of you," she says evenly, almost formally.
* Kethean is fairly average in appearance for the most part though, with wavy light brown hair and blue eyes.
* Kethean is wearing a typical monk outfit, loose and only bound as needed with sashes. The breeches are a very dark blue, easily mistaken for black, which contrasts with a white short-sleeved shirt. Both his sandals and sashes are the same sandy color.
* Tybalt nods, then extends his hand. "And you are of the..." He pulled on one of his earrings, thinking hard. "umm..."
<Kethean> "I am of the Broken Ones, a monk in the service of Ilmater as can be seen," the monk offers, pointing at the red cords wrapped around his arms.
* Tybalt looks at the cords, and raises an eyebrow. "Sorry," he replies sheepishly, "I'm not really...familiar with other gods and orders."
<Kethean> "It's quite alright," Kethean replies with a smile.
* Siret hums quietly, nodding to the monk. "Same, unfortunately...my studies were focused elsewhere."
* Tybalt beams at Siret. "And what is your calling, Anasi?"
* Siret frowns just a tad at the strange word, trying to place it. "The study of magic."
* Tybalt gapes. "You are a wizard!"
<Siret> "Yes...?" Siret asks, wondering if that's strange to the swordsman. If there was a wizard this far out worth learning from, it shouldn't be all that odd.
<Kethean> "A wizard? I must admit, I have not had much dealing with those of your profession," Kethean admits.
* Tybalt blinks. "Oh...eh, it is just interesting. I have never seen a lady wizard."
* Siret frowns a little. "The path of magic is a quiet and studious one, for the most part. You are...not a mercenary, for certain, but what?" she asks Tybalt.
<Tybalt> "I'm a paladin," he says back, looking a little confused, "I said that before."
<Siret> "My attention wanders," Siret admits. "I guess we make an interesting group."
* Tybalt nods. "It would seem so. I have never met others like you. I hope we can work together."
<Kethean> "I suppose we do indeed," Kethean says in agreement. "I am surprised that they only plan to send 3 of us though..."
<Tybalt> "Feh." Tybalt snorted, making a dismissive gesture towards the woods. "They are scum. We can beat up a few goblins."
<Kethean> "A few," Kethean replies carefully.
* Tybalt pauses, then grins.
* Siret nods in agreement. "A raid, I believe would be the term, to retrieve the book, and weaken the goblins further, so that the militia may have an easier time."
<Tybalt> "Ah...of course," Tybalt says, "she is right. Perhaps we should go to the Mayor's house. And I should get my pack."
<Kethean> "Rion's house," Kethean corrects politely with a nod. "I have my things with me already."
<Siret> "Ah...Rion was the one that was going to tell us more of the goblins, with a scrying spell," Siret corrects the paladin, glancing back towards the wizard's home.
* Tybalt laughs.
<Tybalt> "Sure," he says, "I'll go and get my things."
<Tybalt> Tybalt strides off, whistling a Calishite tune.

<GM-Rat> <->

[Merc]

Day 1 - Part 2: Where the Mystic Elf has Desire and Delight

<GM-Rat> When we last left our adventurers, they were just about to enter the abode of Rion, in order to divination the location of their forthcoming strike against the goblin raiders.
<GM-Rat> We return back to the Kaire, the village in which all this was taking place... not focusing on our former group, but on a new arrival!
* Tybalt comes trotting back out of the inn with his pack, feeling cheerful. He spots the new arrival and his eyes widen slightly with curiousity. Slinging the pack over both shoulders, Tybalt rejoins the group.
<GM-Rat> This arrival, a surly-looking dwarven warrior, trudged past the array of burnt-out farms and cropland, no doubt raising an eyebrow at the ash and devastation. He approaches the village; sleepy, to be sure, but with an aura of slight fear about it. Nearing the centre, he can see a small group of people- a tall warrior, with the 'skin of the desert' and a commanding presence. A quiet-looking young elfmaiden, and a wiry-looking man, his fists wrapped with red cloth. Just nearby is another man- a fairly well-off man, judging by his dress. He's probably the mayor of the town, or at least an influential individual.
<GM-Rat> The group in question see a dwarven warrior (are there any other kinds of dwarves, anyway?) approaching them from the north. He's wearing armour and carries a shield, with a longsword strapped to his belt.
<Grisen> Slowing a moment in the slight shade of one of the buildings, Grisen looks to the grouping in idle curiosity. Some sort of gathering, perhaps.
<GM-Rat> The mayor looks at the dwarf, raising an eyebrow at Grisen's apporach. Gesturing to the group to head into Rion's house, he walks up to him. "Sir Dwarf, what brings you to Kaire?" he questions, curiously.
* Siret eyes their new arrival warily. More guards would be good, but a dwarf...then, dwarves are notorious for their hatred of quite a number of things. Goblins included.
<Grisen> "Travelling," is the near monosyllable answer that emerges from his mouth, almost offensively curt and sharp. He takes another step or two forward, surveying the entire group. A nobleman of a human, maybe, a quiet elf and another less impressive human.  With burned out farmland...
<GM-Rat> "Oh, I see," replies the mayor, nodding. "Well, I was just, ah, if you'd like some work," he continues, gesturing at your sword, "I think we have some. Though if you're just passing through..."
* Tybalt comes trotting back out of the inn with his pack, feeling cheerful. He spots the new arrival and his eyes widen slightly with curiousity. Slinging the pack over both shoulders, Tybalt rejoins the group.
<Grisen> "Work?" A slight tilt of the bearded head, black hair and dark blue eyes sharp as they regard the mayor. HIs voice is extremely gruff and short, almost naturally like a bark. "What sort of work?"
<GM-Rat> "Bandit-hunting," replies the mayor, recoiling slightly. "Goblin bandits, to be precise. We're offering 25 gold a scalp..."
<Grisen> Grisen takes a moment to regard each of the other travellers, looking for visible weapons or sign of skill. "Mmm. Goblins...how many are there?" His gaze passes over each without too much lingering, though he pauses on the wiry human a moment longer.
<GM-Rat> The tall human carries a long, curved blade, while the elf carries a knife and a shortbow. The human, on the other hand, holds a staff. He looks phyiscally competent, though, moreso than the average wizard. "We're not sure," confesses the mayor. "Not a large number- but certainly enough to cause this town some problems.
<Grisen> Another short pause, this one perhaps thoughtful. Or not, Grisen's face stony like his motherland. "Alright."
<GM-Rat> "Oh!" replies the mayor, thinking Grisen to be quite the dangerous one, and surprised he agreed for so small a sum. "Well, ah, you'll be working with that group, there," he continues. "Though you.. might have guessed. They're going in to see our wizard about some divination, and then.. setting off, I suppose."
* Tybalt turns to the Mayor.
<Tybalt> "Is the wizard almost ready?" He asks.
<GM-Rat> "Probably," replies the mayor, turning from the dwarf. "Yes. Why not go in and check? I'm sure he's prepared now."
<Kethean> "So, sir dwarf, what might we call you?" the young monk asks curiously, while maintaining his tone polite and respectful.
<Grisen> Turning to the human with the odd hand coverings, Grisen takes a moment to get a better look at them. "Grisen," is the simple answer, only a name and no surname given, nor a clan.
<Kethean> "A pleasure to meet you, Sir Grisen," Kethean notes, and with a nod, adds an introduction for himself. "Kethean Evenwood."
<Tybalt> "And I'm Tybalt of Sune," Tybalt adds, extending a dusky hand.
<Siret> "Siret," Siret adds simply, bestowing an amused smile on the dwarf.
<Grisen> Eyes rest on Kethean a moment, before going to the warrior of Sune. "Priest, are you," the dwarf asks, slightly colder and harder, now. A glimpse to the elf, though his attention mostly stays on the paladin.
* Tybalt quirks his mouth slightly, withdrawing his hand. "I'm a paladin," he replies, a touch of pride in his voice.
<Grisen> Grisen's face stays cold, though his eyes quickly turn away from him and to the elf a moment, looking her over briefly as well - mainly to her visible weapons - before going silent again.
* Kethean coughs, somewhat ill at ease from the odd analysis the dwarf seems to be giving them, and adds, "So, shall we join the esteemed wizard as the mayor suggested?"
<Tybalt> "Sure," Tybalt says cheerily.
<Grisen> Grisen is silent, simply sticking to the group and following along.
<GM-Rat> Into the wizards house you go. Now that everyone is here, they can all see the sight Siret was treated to earlier: mighty bookshelves crammed full of ancients tomes, and paper- so much paper, stacked up in neat piles.. mostly, anyway. A clattering sound is heard out the back of the house, followed by a rustling of fabric.
* Kethean looks towards Siret, figuring she should show them the way, as she had claimed this Rion Karian to have been her instructor.
<Grisen> Out of his territory, Grisen goes quiet, using his eyes and ears to observe. Might as well, even if this is one of those mages.
* Siret shrugs to Kethean. "We're here," she announces to her family's friend in Elvish, waiting for him.
<GM-Rat> "Ah, come through, come through," says Rion, from one of the rooms at the back. It's a fairly cramped room, but everyone could fit, if they wanted to. Inside is a large, orante mirror, with a (gold!) gilded frame. It might be shocking to some, to see how they appear to others. Then again, some might not care.
* Tybalt checks his hair in the mirror, being used to them in the temples of Sune.
<GM-Rat> "This is the window through which I will cast my scrying spell," says Rion. "To the rest of you, it will not look like much, I fear. A mere blurring of the land. But I will be able to tell exactly where you must go.. and mark it on this map." With a flourish, he produces a sheet of parchment, and lays it on a table.
<GM-Rat> "Watch closely, Siret," he says. "When you are strong enough, I will certainly teach you this spell. It has so many.. applications."
<GM-Rat> And at that, he begins waving his arms in tight circles, incanting in a voice that does not sound like his own. His eyes take on a slightly glazed look... "Scio... Didici... Petro!"
* Siret nods, smiling a little at the thought. Ahhh, magic' lovely, lovely magic.
<GM-Rat> His eyes roll back up in their sockets, so all you can see are the whites! He seems to peer into the mirror, closely, and all of you notice a blurring, a faint shifting of the image, but none of you can truly make out what is there. All of a sudden, Rion begins to speak- in a tight, breathless voice.
<GM-Rat> "I see... yes.. few goblins... some have died... punishment.. others have fled... barely two dozen of them remain.. and an orc, yes- and.. a human.. a cleric? Ah, yes, a Sharran cleric..."
<GM-Rat> "I can see it! I can see my spellbook! A cave.. not far, not far.. two or three days walk... intertwining and.. here, here, here!" He rips his gaze from the mirror, and stamps down a mark on his map.
* Tybalt scowls. "Sharran?"
<GM-Rat> Rion staggers slightly, but aligns himself shortly, shaking his head to clear his mind. "The Lady of Loss, indeed," he says. "Though I suspect this one is just a pawn..."
* Kethean frowns slightly at the mention of the Lady of Loss, but does not show much more reaction than that, choosing to let the wizard speak without interruption from his part.
* Tybalt frowns, his amber eyes burning with a fire light at the thought of an evil cleric.
<GM-Rat> He shakes his head. "Yes, yes. There are still a number of goblins, but they are worried and fearful. About what, I don't know... the orc and the cleric are trying to galvanize them to act. The orc is just a strongman, hired muscle, and I suspect the cleric is organizing things.."
* Tybalt swears in Alzhedo.
<GM-Rat> "My spellbook isn't all I saw, though. They have.. other spellbooks, and I believe they have some minor magical items hoarded away. I could not see them, but I caught glimpses of their scent on the weave."
<GM-Rat> Rion pauses, glancing at all of you, giving you a chance to speak.
<Siret> Siret's eyes harden at the news, though a strange desire and delight is on her face. "More spellbooks? That could be...well worth anything needed to retrieve them."
<Grisen> Grisen is still quiet, having crossed his arms settled in to watch the proceedings. Magical items and a cleric, though...this gets complicated.
<Tybalt> Tybalt smacks his gauntleted fist into the open palm of his other hand. "Dark clerics are an affront to everything I stand for. That person is mine!"
* Kethean frowns, but remains quiet like the dwarf, as he ponders the situation.
<GM-Rat> "Well, the world could certainly use one less Sharran cleric, by my estimation," replies Rion, rummaging around in some junk. "Here, you might need these." He gives each of you a vial, filled with a clear, blue-tinged liquid. "Healing potions," he explains. "In case.. well, you know."
* Siret nods, trying to not glare at the paladin. "Thank you," she offers politely.
<Grisen> Grisen takes it, peering at the blue tinted brew, vial held up to his face. After a moment of seemingly satisfactory inspection, Grisen puts the vial away in his pack.
* Tybalt smiles warmly. "Thank you."
<GM-Rat> "The caves you'll be exploring won't be very deep. I suspect torches would work against you, in any case. As things stand, if you left immediately.. you should arrive there at dusk, two days hence."
* Kethean nods. He already has a potion, but another cannot hurt. "Thank you, hopefully it won't be needed though," is the monk's reply.
<GM-Rat> "Hope is good. Assurance is better," comes Rion's reply. "Happy hunting!"
<GM-Rat> "Oh, yes. Take this," he adds, handing Tybalt the map. "It's fairly accurate.. you shouldn't have much trouble finding the network. I suggest you travel cautiously, though.. no telling what guards might see you coming."
<Tybalt> Tybalt accepts the map and nods. "Thanks."
* Tybalt leaves, then pauses and looks over his shoulder before continuing out.
<Grisen> Grisen follows, the events here pretty clearly played out. Besides, the smell of old books is giving him a slight desire to sneeze.
<GM-Rat> Everyone bustles out of Rion's house. A quick glance at the sky confirms that it's just past noon, and the clouds above don't look like they're going to be raining down anytime soon (though in Tethyr, violent summer storms are not an impossibility.)
<GM-Rat> It's decent travelling weather- though it's barely been an hour since you arrived in town, and your legs are still a bit stiff (except for Tybalt, who did get a chance to sit down, if only for a short while.)
<GM-Rat> You'll be travelling cross country. Tethyr's terrain isn't hilly at all- mostly grassland, plains.

<GM-Rat> <->

<GM-Rat> After many hours of solid travelling, the group eventually pitches camp for the night. Without much in common, they may not speak to each other much- but one way or the other, before the gruop heads to sleep, they are interrupted by the sound of galloping hoofs.
<Grisen> Grisen looks up from his mental ponderings at the sound, looking about for what the hooves are from, as well as letting his hand stray to his sword.
* Kethean also looks up at the sound of galloping, and grips his staff firmly, as he stands at the ready.
* Tybalt stops practising his evening martial arts exercises and puts a hand on the hilt of his sword.
<GM-Rat> The galloping is, of course, a horse, and as the rider approaches, those with darkvision can see that it's just a human rider- a soldier of some kind, with a sword belted to his hip and a bow on his back. "Ho there, travellers!" he says, broadly. "What brings you to these fields at this late hour? Why leave the road?"
* Tybalt relaxes somewhat. "We're on our way to do some hunting, goodman soldier."
* Siret stands from her silent pondering, a longsword in its sheath held in her left hand.
<GM-Rat> "Hunting? Ah. Not much game around these parts, and certainly a late hour..." says the horseman, shrugging. "An overnight journey?"
<GM-Rat> "Quite late for such activity. Where are you headed?"
<Siret> "Goblin hunting," Siret answers as the paladin falls silent. "We've been...commissioned to reduce the number of goblin bandits hereabouts."
<GM-Rat> The soldier blinks at that. "Dangerous work," he says at last. "There are quite a number holed up in those caverns, I fear, and- though I do not doubt your strength- their numbers may overwhelm you. Perhaps it would be better if you returned to.. it must be Kaire, and gathered reinforcements."
* Tybalt looks doubtful.
* Tybalt closes his eyes, and feels out for the soldier's aura, to glimpse into his heart.
<Grisen> Grisen is quiet, eyeing the soldier. He speaks not, only quietly watching.
* Siret raises her eyebrows, stepping closer to get a better look at the man with only her low-light vision available. "And who might you be, sir?" she asks politely.
<GM-Rat> Tybalt sees a faint red outline about the man- a clear sign of evil if there was one.
<GM-Rat> "A scout," he replies. "I was sent by Lord Fyral- to see if the reports of monsters are really as bad as they appear. I intend to return myself with reinforcements."
<GM-Rat> "But I would not begrudge an adventuring group a chance to strike out themselves- perhaps save the Queens soldiers some work!"
* Tybalt scowls. "You lie. My goddess gives insight into your soul."
<GM-Rat> The soldier stutters at that. "Pardon?"
* Tybalt draws his scimitar in a fluid motion.
<GM-Rat> The soldier shakes his head. "I'll not stay to deal with this!" he announces, spurring his horse into motion and starting to gallop away.
<Grisen> Grisen raises a single black eyebrow to this, turning his attention to the paladin but not speaking quite yet.
<Tybalt> "Coward!" Tybalt roars after him.
* Tybalt brandishes his sword like the firey young man he is.
<Grisen> A deep sigh, sounding like a breath of wind from the earth's bosom. "Hope he reckons us just drunken travellers and not loons or bandits ourselves."
* Tybalt whirls on Grisen.
<Tybalt> "His heart was full of malice," Tybalt says hotly, "I could see it!"
"Aye. Say you're right, even then, tippin' your hand isn't wise. Say you're right, and he knows that you know, and if he has friends..." The dwarf shakes his head.
<Siret> "And can make us known as treasonous traitors to the queen," Siret adds, going back to her thoughts of the world and its magic.
* Tybalt looks slightly glum.
* Tybalt scowls again.
<Grisen> Grisen sighs again, "Clan leader had a sayin', the fool that he was had one thing right. Chargin' in leads to dwarven funeral pyres."
<Tybalt> "I'm not sure he would be a soldier anyway," Tybalt argued, his Alzhedo accent getting thicker as he spoke. "But it is not the point now."
<Grisen> "It isn't," Grisen agrees. "You've cast yer lot now, and we're in with it. Hope you're right."
* Kethean nods. "Quite right. However, the matter now is if Sir Grifen's thoughts are right, perhaps we should move camp?" the monk suggests.
* Tybalt sheathes his sword. "Yeah. I'll take the first watch, to make up for it."
<Grisen> "As will I," Grisen speaks up again, beginning to gather his things.
<GM-Rat> Later that night, during watch, Grisen can spy, in the distance, the form of a rider, arcing back around and heading roughly in the same direction that this group was.

<GM-Rat> <->

[Asrana]

Days 2 and 3: Wherein Our Adventurers Defeat Creatures Most Fetid and Foul

<Mighty-GM-Rat> <->
<Mighty-GM-Rat> When we last left our mighty not-cannon-fodder-at-all adventurers, they had just had a run in with an apparently evil soldier, who, when his nature was discovered, ran away. Suspicion was perhaps confirmed by the sight of his horse arcing back around, towards the goblin caves to which the group was heading. It is now morning, and those who were on watch are munching on breakfast, while those who were asleep are just waking up.
* Siret sets mode: +v Tybalt
* Tybalt finishes his iron rations, then does his morning training exerises, moving through the animal stances of his martial art with fluid grace.
<Grisen> Grisen rises in a bleary daze, taking a moment to freshen up with water before joining the group. Looking to the other two as Tybalt exercises, "Had a visitor last night," he offers to the elf and human.
* Tybalt pauses, then nods.
* Siret sits calmly, paging through her spell book, selecting, reading, studying. "Hah?" she asks, glancing up, confused. "You mean after the soldier ran off?"
<Tybalt> "Yeah," he adds, frowning slightly, "I bet it was the soldier from earlier that night."
* Siret shrugs, going back to her spellbook for the moment. Such is life, and time would tell.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> After eating and the like, the group continues to trek onward towards the supposed location of the goblin caves. Another day, another night, and they near their destination just as the sun begins to set. There's no cave in sight, but according to the map, they're approaching a valley of sorts. The terrain gets a little rockier, and vegetation a little sparser.. for the most part. Loose trees dot the landscape, and the onset of
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Loose trees dot the landscape, and the onset of dusk, along with a few thin-looking trees about make easy vision slightly less-so. Clouds are beginning to gather as well; looks like it could be a rainy evening.
* Tybalt sees something in the distance, then stops and bites his bottom lip.
<Tybalt> "Hey, get down," he says in a hoarse whisper, "Get down!"
* Siret frowns, crouching, and getting off of the road at the call. 'What could it be now?'
<Grisen> Grisen turns to the paladin, but simply does so, dropping into a kneel while peering forward himself.
* Tybalt points. "Look. Goblins."
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Kethean acts switfly, crouching down and rolling to one side, eyes darting about in slight fear of an attack.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> And lo, the when directed by the pointing finger of the paladin, the party can make out the same small shapes in the distance, moving slowly. There are 4 or 5 or so that you can see in the light.
* Tybalt pulls a pair of throwing knives from their sheathes. "They're a bit far away," he muses in his native language, peering to see if he can make out their weapons and armor..
<Tybalt> "Can you see anything?" He says softly to Siret.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Nothing big, that's for sure. They're not carrying *large* weapons, but for all Tybalt could know, swords and bows they could hold.
* Siret shakes her head, unslinging her shortbow, and knocking an arrow. "Grisan, Kethean...do you have anything you can use from a distance?" she asks, her voice low.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Kethean produces a sling, at that, and shrugs. "I'd need to get quite a bit closer," he replies, quietly.
<Grisen> A shake of Grisen's head, as he idly readies his long sword.
* Tybalt grins. "Maybe it's worthwhile just charging in."
* Siret nods quietly, not expressing that they all would have to get closer. "Kethean and I will begin firing at the same time, draw them into a charge...don't worry too much about missing, but if we kill one or two to get the others angry, all the better. Tybalt and Grisan, try to stay out of sight, and hit them from the sides as Kethean and I draw them in. If they stop to return fire, charge."
<Grisen> A quiet nod, Grisen looking bout for a convienent tree or shrub or two.
* Tybalt nods soundlessly, replacing the knives and drawing his scimitar before padding off, his torso bent over, deceptively graceful for such a large man.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> It's not so hard for Tybalt and Grisen to find decent hiding places; it's not exceptionally bright, and a shrub here or a thick tree there aren't so hard to find. They hide on either side of the goblins supposed route, which the greenskins slowly walk towards. As they get closer, all of you make out their equipment; surprisingly well-made swords, and two of them carry shortbows.
<Tybalt> Tybalt, his back to a stout tree, touches his holy symbol to his forehead reverently.
<Grisen> Long sword out, Grisen simply waits, keeping his eyes on the goblins some, and about otherwise. With good equipment...it may not serve to underestimate the green pests. There may be a brain behind all this.
* Siret continues waiting, arrow knocked, bow held ready to raise and draw. If only they had a couple of good elven longbows...
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Barely metres away from Grisen and Tybalt, the greenskinned goblins (5 in number) start to shout excitedly, and one of them points at Kethean and Siret. Tybalt and Grisen can see that one of the goblins is carrying a horn- coincidentally, he's the one doing most of the shouting. The other two non-bow-wielding goblins start running towards Siret and Kethean, while the archers draw arrows...
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The two armed goblins immediately start rushing towards Siret and Kethean, hooting calls and jeered threats in their guttural tounge.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The archers are still fumbling arrows, and the one with the horn is fumbling for that.
<Tybalt> Tybalt's nose wrinkles slightly as the foul smelling goblins rush past him, oblivious to his presence, then whips out from behind the tree, running towards the creature fumbling for his horn.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Tybalt's blade catches the goblin by surprise- but doesn't cut all the way through his scarred-looking leather armour.
<Siret> Siret stands, raising and drawing her bow in one fluid motion. Years of childhood training taking over, she aims the shaft for the goblin charging her, and lets it fly.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> A pity the training was in 'childhood', and not 'yesterday'. The arrow flies over the head of the charging goblin and lands well off-side.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Fate must smile on one of the goblin archers, because his accurate arrow imbeds itself in Kethean's gut- a serious wound indeed!
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The monk, pained, nonetheless stays upright (though that wound looks horrible). Meanwhile, the goblin leader of the goblins pulls out a shortsword and takes a swipe at Tybalt, cutting a nasty gash across his thigh.
<Grisen> Rising out from his perch, Grisen charges the seemingly fell goblin archer! Sword shining in the sunset, he attempts to cut the vermin in twain!
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Grisen manages to miss badly, though, and his sword almost sinks into the rocky dirt in the ground.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Sling whirling, Kethean actually scores a hit on the archer who hasn't fired yet, who snarls and fires back- and misses again.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The charging goblins are wary at the presence of a sling and a bow, but they continue to rush in, oblivious to the fighting behind them.
* Tybalt puts the tree between himself and the goblin, placing his hand over his bleeding thigh and softly singing a prayer to Sune, feeling slightly woozy from bloodloss. A warm reddish light spreads out from his palm, sealing the wound with a sensation that reminded Tybalt of a woman's slender fingers on his skin. He shivered slightly, feeling stronger and refreshed, then faced his opponent, his sword held out.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The archer that hit Kethean fires again- ignorant of the dwarven warrior at his side!
* Siret drops her bow, her fingers moving as an almost incrompehensible cascade of Elvish pours from her lips. With a slight blur, a nearly imperceivable distortion composed of pure force forms in the air in front of Siret.
<Grisen> Bringing his sword back around, Grisen attempts to do a passing fair job of reducing the archer by a head or two.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Grisen achieves exaclty what he wants. The goblin head slips off it's shoulders with a satisfying *thunk*.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> A bullet from Kethean's sling reduces his partner-in-crime to a goblin with a hole in his head.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The charging goblins close distance with Siret and Kethean. Kethean nimbldy dodges the goblin that tries to slash him (no mean feat with an arrow in him), but Siret isn't so fortunate, suffering perhaps the most minor of minor cuts to the side.
<Tybalt> Tybalt, his leg newly healed, charges the goblin who wounded him.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Tybalt's swing arcs towards the goblin, who somehow parries on his short blade.
<Siret> Relying on her shield of force, Siret reaches back beneath her cloak, drawing her longsword and attacking the foul creature.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Swift Siret Silently Slices the goblin, slash open it's chest. Ow.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The goblin leader slashes out at Tybalt again, but cuts through empty air as the deft warrior slides out the way.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Keathen throws a kick at his charger, who replies with a wild swing. It's an impressive display of incompetence, as both of them manage to miss completely.
<Grisen> Seeing the situation changing as goblin blood runs into the fair earth, Grisen turns to the motley leader of the group, rushing to add another notch on his longsword, steeped in steaming goblin guts.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Grisen drops the goblin in a hit, the beast clutching his sword as if it could actually have saved him.
* Tybalt looks sidelong at Grisen. "You've been doing this for a while, haven't you?"
* Siret moves to attack the remaining goblin from his exposed rear, shifting the shield of force with her movement. Lasshing out with her blade, Siret attempts to end the evil thing's life.
<Grisen> Grisen grunts and shakes his head, turning his attention to the remaining goblinoid.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Siret's sword-fu is lacking with this strike, which neatly misses the goblin.
* Tybalt turns his attention onto Siret as she gamely swipes for the goblin, but misses. He runs towards them, switching his scimitar to a reverse - hand grip.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Not to worry, as Kethean delivers a crushing hammer-fist to the goblin's head, dropping it. He tempered his hand, however, and the goblin is likely still alive- just unconcious.
<Grisen> Seeing that the carnage is over for the moment, Grisen takes this time to look about. Seeing if any green skinned pests still live or linger, or if the danger is truly over, while heading over to the rest of the party.
* Tybalt continues to run, noticing the arrow in Keathean's abdomen. He pulls a potion from his pack as he moves.
* Siret sighs. Prisoners were so troublesome most of the time. Wiping her sword on whatever these things call clothing, Siret begins to routinely search the bodies, using her blade for most of the manipulation.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Kethean has produced his own potion, and downs it with a chug. The arrow he carries falls out, and the wound begins to close.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The goblins are wearing leather armour and carry daggers or shortswords- nicely made ones, too. Not masterwork or the like, but they look like they came from a good smithy- probably not a goblin one. Siret could easily scavange another 20 arrows off the goblin archers if she wanted, and their bows aren't that bad, either. They're carrying a little gold; not much, 16gp between the lot.
* Tybalt stops and smiles. "Glad to see that you are alright."
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The horn the goblin 'leader' carried is nicely carved, however- it probably came from a human outpost somewhere, likely stolen in one of the frequent goblinoid raids. He's also wearing a necklace- nothing special, just looks like an amulet with a fairly wide, flat black disk.
<Siret> "Someone restrain that one," Siret speaks up, gesturing to the still potentially alive goblin with her longsword, and apparently all business. "It looked like it was still alive, and we could use it for questioning," she elaborates, picking up perhaps five six of the arrows, slipping one into her quiver, and another dagger. The gold, she collects in one of the goblin's pouches, keeping it in ready sight for the rest of the group. Fair spoiles is fair spoils.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> Kethean dutifully produces some rope, and starts tying the goblin up.
* Tybalt scratches his head. "We should collect the scalps from the dead ones for the mayor."
<Siret> "I'd forgotten that," Siret admits, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the thought.
* Tybalt looks at Grisen hopefully.
<Grisen> Grisen nods, heading to Siret and looking over things. A glance over the body, "Aye," he shakes his head. "You have a knife?"
* Tybalt hands him a throwing knife, just big enough for the job.
* Siret shakes her head, repocketing one of the goblin blades as Tybalt acts first. "Apparently, we have an abundance."
* Tybalt turns and grins cheekily. "Yeah. But my knives are nicer."
* Siret shrugs, resheathing her longsword now that activities involving the touching of horrid goblin flesh are over.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> In short order, Grisen collects 4 scalps, and soon, the goblin prisoner begins to stir. He begins squeaking in fear when he sees what's happened to him (and his companions).
* Tybalt raises an eyebrow, then swaggers over to the goblin, his aqualine face growing stormy.
<Grisen> Having taken the time to clean his blade, Grisen stands a little away, keeping an eye out and around. Something about this...the bows, the guardsman, the talk of a wizard, all doesn't play. Leaning against a nearby tree, he lets his eyes go as his mind works.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The unfortunate goblin quakes in fear as the vision of righteous might stalks towards him.
<Tybalt> Looking down at the goblin, his tawny eyes at once disdainful and angry, Tybalt pokes him with one booted foot. "So, little scum," he rumbles ominously, "You're going to answer a few questions of mine, eh?" He kicks him, harder this time, but not enough to injure. "EH?"
<Mighty-GM-Rat> The goblin recoils, squealing in disjointed common, "Pleases mercies, master! Gorbak no want die!"
<Tybalt> "Then a few things, and I will try to convince my companions - " he gestures at Grisen, who's hands were still bloody from the scalping, and grins ferally. "First, tell me about your boss. The person who wears the dark circle."
<Mighty-GM-Rat> "The Leader! The leader! He so mad at me will be when learn I captured yes is!" screeches the goblin. "Oooh.. he cleric, of the Dark Lady."
<Siret> "How many more of you are there?" Siret asks, trying to get into the act, as she smiles, stepping closer.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> "Many lots!" says the goblin, emphatically, sounding proud. "Dark Lady Cleric teach counting! One, two, lots, many lots!"
<Mighty-GM-Rat> "And an orcses! Big orcses, big axe," continues the goblin.
* Siret sighs. Stupid goblins. "What else has the Dark Lady's cleric told you?" she asks, turning one of the goblin arrows over in her hands.
* Tybalt is slightly cuted out, but wisely keeps that to himself.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> "Ooh. She doesn't speak us much, apart from counting lessons," replies the goblin, shaking his head. "She very scary! But she talk to orcses, and orcses talk to us, and he say group of stuupid humans coming out to get us, so we go out to kill! But Gorbak so so sorry, Masters! Gorbak just not want splattering by big axes of orcses!"
* Siret shakes her head. This idiotic goblin doesn't know anything, or is too dumb to comprehend it. "Is the cleric always there?"
<Mighty-GM-Rat> "Oh no! He comeses and goeses, like the ranger!"
<Siret> "Ranger?" Siret asks, her eyebrows going up. "Who's this ranger?"
* Tybalt tilts his head, tapping the tip of his sword on the ground.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> "Ooh. He talks to the cleric and the orcses. Goes and getses news from Darromarrowarromar." (The goblin is probably talking about 'Darromar', the Tethyrian capital.)
<Siret> "I see...when did this ranger last show up?" Siret asks, beginning to frown herself.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> "This mornings!" replies the goblin. "Still there, he ises. Gonna help with movings the bitses and bookses."
<Siret> "Ah ha...and when will the...bits and books be moved?" Siret asks again.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> "Oooh.. I not know. But tonightses, or tomorrow nightses, or maybe tomorrow tomorrow nightses. Ranger never stay long."
<Tybalt> "Right." Tybalt looks at Siret. "What do we do with him now? I want to let him go, but..." he says in heavily accented Chondathan.
<Siret> "Couple options," Siret answers, in a great deal clearier, though accented in its own distinctly elven way Chondathan. "Keep him until we head to the caves, tie him to a tree when we and he'll eventually get away by chewing the rope...or just execute him."
* Tybalt keeps his face blank. "I think the tying to the tree option is fair enough."
* Siret shrugs, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and mutter 'Paladins'. "All yours, then," she dismisses, disgarding the five extra arrows that turned out to not be needed.
* Tybalt nods, then hauls the goblin up by a handful of rope and proceeds to lash it to a nearby tree.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> "Oh noes!" squeals the goblin, but he can't really protest anymore than that.
<Mighty-GM-Rat> <->

[Merc]

Day 3 and 4 - Wherein something happened

<GM-Rat> A short while later, camp has been set up, and nothing eventful happens in the night. Dawn is just breaking when everyone is awake again, and their captive goblin is.. still around, snoring away himself.
* Tybalt stretches, then eats some trail rations. He takes out a mirror and rosewater from his pack, and sets about shaving.
* Siret glances up from reading her spellbook, having long ago made her morning preparations. Nothing going on, all is well, back to studying.
* Kethean finishes with some prayers to Ilmater after waking up and much like the paladin, digs into his trail rations.
* Tybalt puts away his stuff, then turns to Kethean.
<Tybalt> "I feel like scouting out the place," he says, fitting his gauntlet on, "What do you say?"
<Kethean> "Perhaps, it would be best you leave scouting to me," the monk offers after eyeing the paladin's armor doubtfully. "I may have better luck moving silently, I believe."
* Tybalt looks slightly crestfallen.
<Tybalt> "Well, I suppose," he sighs.
<Kethean> Giving a nod to his companions, Kethean takes off, silent as he can manage, to scout some distance ahead.
<GM-Rat> Ketehan manages to locate what Tybalt found earlier; the same bridge, halfway down the canyon, that connects caves on either side. They aren't accessible without climbing down the rock face of the cliff. The land about isn't much to look at; dusty, with tufts of grass here and there.
* Tybalt watches him leave, then recalls the extent of Kethean's injuries during the last battle they fought. He squats, considering his options, then sighs and gets to his feet again before heading off after the monk, removing his chain shirt on the way.
<GM-Rat> Tybalt shortly catches up to the (now perfectly healthy) monk.
* Kethean eyes the approching paladin with surprise. "Has something happened?"
* Tybalt smiles. "Not yet. I'm not as quiet as you, but I can trail you and help out if you get hurt."
<Kethean> The edges of Kethean's mouth tilt upwards at that. "I suppose being alone might not be the best of ideas considering what traps might be to be found," the monk admits, figuring it can't hurt to stay in groups of twos.
* Tybalt beams. "Exactly."
<Kethean> "However," Kethean notes, as he looks the paladin directly in the eyes. "I would at least recommend keeping some distance back. Wouldn't do to be caught in the same trap."
* Kethean leaves unsaid that it would be easier not to worry for the paladin if the need to run and hide arrises if the paladin is a distance back from whatever dangers the monk might encounter.
<Tybalt> "I was intending to," Tybalt replies, ruffling his gingery hair, "I'm not wearing my armour anyway. It's in my pack, but, yeah." He shrugs. "Shall we?"
<GM-Rat> While the two are searching, Tybalt trips over something that's not right; a quick inspection reveals a trapdoor. It was well-hidden; covered by a small tarpaulin and plenty of dirt- but the slight feel of wood managed to tip him off.
* Tybalt beckons Kethean over and points.
<GM-Rat> The trapdoor itself is locked, but flimsily; it wouldn't be hard to break through (though you'd undoubtably make some noise). It's not that big, either; only one person would be able to go down at a time.
<Tybalt> "A trap or an entrance?" Tybalt asks, squatting down beside it.
<Kethean> "Considering how it's hidden and that we had to stumble into it, I would assume an entrance," Kethean replies.
* Tybalt pokes it with a stick. *Pokes*
<GM-Rat> The trapdoor fails to react. Then again, wood was never very reactive. Perhaps you should try fire.
<Kethean> "...maybe we should go fetch our companions now," the monk suggests, staring at the paladin and his poking stick strangely. If he didn't trigger a trap when he tripped over it, he wouldn't trigger one with a poking stick.
* Tybalt throws the stick away.
<Tybalt> "Well, it was worth a shot." Tybalt grins, then sets about trying to pry the door open with a knife.
<GM-Rat> While Tybalt is trying to force the trapdoor, he hears something from the east! A low roar, like a fire, and a scream of pain! Looking, both he and Kethean can see quite a conflagration taking place, and someone running from it!
* Tybalt swears colourfully in his native tongue, then starts hastily donning his chain shirt.
<Kethean> "I'll see what I can do while you get your armor on," Kethean says quickly as he already is on his way rushing towards the action.
* Tybalt wrestles with his shirt.
<GM-Rat> "Incorrigible fool! Stand still so that I may smite you!" bellows a voice- a womans voice. Clad in black robes, she is clearly talking to a figure (also dressed in black), that is making off with a bundle of some kind. He flings a knife at the woman, but misses badly. Nonetheless, he continues to run.
* Tybalt casts out his sense of detect evil while he is getting dressed.
<GM-Rat> Nobody evil here! Neither man or woman glows at all.
* Tybalt nods to himself and rolls around with his armour some more.
<Kethean> "Halt! Whatever your issues be with each other, death should not be the answer!" the monk of Ilmater cries out in a pleading tone as he moves closer towards the duo.
<GM-Rat> "Whoa, sorry there, friend," says the man. "Better get out the way fast- there's no telling when my sister might unleash one of her so-called 'spells'."
<Kethean> "Your sister?" the monk parrots in surprise before turning to the woman. "M'lady, surely you have no intent to kill your own brother?"
<GM-Rat> "That little fool! If he interrupts me again, I really *will* kill him!" screeches the 'mage', who a bag of.. something, and slings it at the man
<GM-Rat> Ooh, it was a direct hit, too! The man is covered in some kind of goo, and slows down considerably and he finds his legs are stuck together. "Dammit, wench! I found it first!" he yells, clutching the bundle and hugging it protectively.
<Kethean> "Found what? What might cause two loving siblings to react in such manner?" the monk prods, glad at least it doesn't seem to be -too- volatile a situation.
<GM-Rat> "Loving! Hah! This little fool has been stealing every one of my discoveries!" shouts the woman, rapidly closing distance with the man. She produces a staff from somewhere, and starts rapidly bopping the guy on the head with it. "And then he expects me to make potions and whatnot for him! Phah! The cheeck!"
<GM-Rat> "Ah, shut up," replies the man, sulking. "You know, that idiot swordsman still has the other one. *He* stole it for real. Why don't you go pester *him,*?"
<Tybalt> 'So much for being quiet,' Tybalt thinks to himself.
<GM-Rat> "Yeah, well.. he had a sword, Tsinon! He might be a dirty low-down thief, but he had that desperate look in his eyes..." The woman seems clearly harried.
* Tybalt *finally* gets his shirt on, then walks over to the scene.
<Tybalt> "Hello there, Milady," he says, with a small bow, "What is the problem?"
<GM-Rat> "Oh," she says, looking away from Tybalts eyes. "I.. you startled me. Yes. Well, er, my brother stole the Mask of Tsangg from me... no doubt to go and sell it for money-" "Only to keep our larder stocked," grumbles the man. "If you'd actually do some real work for a change..."
* Tybalt regards the lady warmly, and somewhat appreciatively.
<Tybalt> "Well, surely this dispute is best solved away from danger, Mi'lady," he says cheerfully, "I am Tybalt, of the Order of the Firehair. May I be of some assistance?"
<GM-Rat> "Hah! Maybe you can, if you're any good with that sword of yours," says the man, snorting. "That idiot, Glass, stole the companion Mask of Tsangg-" "Only from you, because you were going to sell it," mutters the woman. "Yes, well, he wants the other half, too. With all your yelling, he'll proably find us in a moment. Hey, you could beat him up, and get back the other half for us! Wouldn't that be great?"
* Tybalt looks sidelong at Kethean.
* Kethean remains quiet for now, choosing to let his more flamboyant companion take the lead, only giving a 'Do what you think is best here' look.
<Tybalt> "Well...uhhh..."
* Tybalt shrugs.
<Tybalt> "Why not?"
<Tybalt> "So, where is this person?"
<GM-Rat> "Because he's an idiot of the first calibre," replies the woman, snorting. "I swear, some of his stupidity has rubbed off onto-" Another voice sounds, from the east. "Aha! Craven cowards! But none can hide from the all-seeing eyes of Glass!"
* Tybalt steps in front of the squabbling pair.
* Tybalt calls on his ability to sense evil again.
<GM-Rat> This guy glows red; somewhat evil, at least.
* Tybalt puts out a hand and rests the other on his sword. "Halt, ruffian!"
<GM-Rat> Glass balks at that. "Ruffian? I? Glass? The finest swordsman this side of the Hordelands? Phah! To call me 'Ruffian' is an inuslt!"
<GM-Rat> "The gods fear my name! And yet you still stand before me?"
* Tybalt regards him blandly.
<GM-Rat> "Well, then! Either you'll get out my way, or I'll go through you!" says the man, twirling the sword (it's a scimitar, and a fine-looking one at that) a little. "Phah! Cattle such as you are nothing before my might!"
<Kethean> "If you were no ruffian, why would such a supposed fine swordsman have need of threatening two siblings?" the monk asks in a rather polite and friendly tone, even as he grips his staff tightly.
<Tybalt> "Sune does not fear your name, Rogue," he says levelly, drawing his own scimitar, "And neither do I!"
<GM-Rat> "Pfft. Obviously you cannot begin to comprehend my reasons," says Glass, rolling his eyes. "Surely you do not think they acquired it legally? No! They took it from me! Glass! They took it from my very tomb!"
<Kethean> "Your tomb?" is the questioning reply.
* Tybalt isn't the brightest spark who ever graced his Order, but even he begins to feel witty compared to Glass.
<GM-Rat> "Yes! The Tomb of Glass! They have taken the Mask of Glass from it, and if I had not arrived to stop them..." Glass growls. "Why, the gall! Simply because I have been reborn in the body of a fine young fighter does not mean I have lost any of my godly strength! Hah!"
* Tybalt looks at Kethean. "For the love of my Lady, kick him or something."
<Kethean> "I would prefer to resolve this without fighting if it is possible, you know," the monk replies.
* Tybalt gives you a withering look. "Just knock him out. I don't want to use my sword on a crazy man."
* Tybalt takes a defensive stance, just in case.
<Kethean> "And yet you have no problem with a monk of Ilmater using his fist on one?" the monk asks with a raised eyebrow.
<GM-Rat> "'Knock me out?'" spits Glass, contemptuously. "You couldn't anymore 'knock me out' than you can cause the heavens to split open, or the fires of the Abyss to consume a city!"
<Tybalt> "Well at least you won't cut him up!" Tybalt protests, maintaining his defensive position.
* Tybalt checks on the brother and sister.
<GM-Rat> They're still cursing at each other. The brother produced a knife, and is scraping off the good; the sister is berating him for even letting Glass take the mask in the first place.
<Tybalt> "Right." Tybalt continues to watch Glass warily.
<GM-Rat> "Enough! It is time for you all to know the fury of Glass! Behold my might!" At that, Glass charges towards the group!
<Kethean> "So much for reasoning," is the frowning reply as Kethean prepares to fight back.
* Tybalt sighs.
<GM-Rat> Glass hurls himself at Kethean, trying for some elaborate sword-dance, but managing just a fairly crappy overhead swing.
<GM-Rat> A clear miss if there ever was one.
<Kethean> "You know, this would have been much easier if you would have been agreeable to just talking," the monk comments as he takes a swing of his own at the mad swordsman with his own weapon.
<GM-Rat> Perhaps it would've been, because then he wouldn't be involved in this crazy dance. At least, that's what it lookes like to Tybalt.
* Tybalt attacks, deciding not to hold back lest the crazy man harms the lady and her brother.
<GM-Rat> Tybalt joins the frazy, twirling like a dancer as he expertly misses Glass.
<GM-Rat> "You impudent fools! Kneel and submit to my grandeur!" bellows Glass, whipping out his sword!
<GM-Rat> OOC: It's like an opera, really.
<Kethean> "I'd rather not, sorry about that," Kethean replies apologetically as he attempts to smack the dancing swordsman once more with his staff.
<GM-Rat> Kethean manages to give the ground a good whack.
* Tybalt swings out with his sword, slicing across the top of Glass's thighs.
<GM-Rat> Glass stumbles a bit, but carries on nonetheless. "Foolish mortal! Such a wound is nary an inconveniance!" he says, slashing back.
<GM-Rat> Perhaps only to his missing.
* Tybalt parries the blow easily. "Please calm down. You are outmatched."
<GM-Rat> Kethean actually misses again, but he's getting closer to Glass' corporeal form.
* Tybalt strikes!
<GM-Rat> Tybalt manages to miss with yet another blow. A brutal melee ensues, as all participants quickly get sick of the idea of constantly not hitting anyone. By the end, Glass is lying comatose on the ground, Tybalt and Kethean are slightly bruised, and a delighted mage-woman grabs the mask.
<Tybalt> Hurrah!

[Merc]

Day 4 Part 2 - Wherein a missing part exists

[Merc]

Day 4 Part 3 - Wherein the tale continues

[10:05] <GM-Rat> Recent scouting, done by Kethean and Tybalt, has not only managed to solve a small problem of 'rightful ownership', but also uncovered a mysterious trapdoor, which they suspect may lead into the caves of the goblins. Having dealt with their earlier issue, they are now returning to camp to discuss this with the others..
* Tybalt kicks in the trapdoor, getting impatient.
<GM-Rat> There's a skittering noise, and Tybalt can hear some tiny footsteps running away somewhere. Peering down into the door, he can see a rather steep, rocky slope down into a cave, which has a dim light extending from it. It's difficult to see clearly.
<Tybalt> "Well, seeing as none you of you are rush to go down, I might as well," Tybalt says, peering down.
* Tybalt feels out for any evil presence in the chamber.
* Kethean motions for the paladin to go right ahead, and waits behind him.
<GM-Rat> There's a faint evil presence, but it's leaving very quickly, and soon, Tybalt can't sense anything except dangerous-looking rocks... and an echoing drip-drip-drip from somewhere deeper in the caves.
* Tybalt shrugs, murmurs a quick prayer to not have his legs cut off, and scoots in feet first.
<GM-Rat> Tybalt slides to the ground, and feels something- like a thin wire- break against his feet. Luckily, however, he manages to roll out of the way as a small avalanche of rocks tumbles in from the steep tunnel, and is thus not beaten around the head at all.
* Tybalt grins. "Sweet."
* Kethean looks down the opening of the trapdoor and checks on the status of their paladin. "Still alive and safe, I assume?" he asks.
<Tybalt> "Somewhat," Tybalt replies cheerfully.
* Anastasia is now known as Grisen
* Tybalt kicks a rock.
* Siret coughs at the upfly of rock udst from the mini-avalanche, stepping away from the trapdoor to clear her lungs of the aggravating particles. "Well, this is certainly interesting," she notes wryly.
* Tybalt gets impatient again and starts scouting out the corridor.
<Grisen> Grisen stays silent, only wrinkling his nose at the odors and dust within.
<GM-Rat> Tybalt walks headfirst into at least one low rock overhanging (his head makes a semi-hollow sound), but he he managed to find the source of the dim light; it's from around a corner in the rocky cave, and as he peeks his head around, he can see a torch burning.. which promptly goes out.
* Tybalt bites his lip ring. 'Shit'.
* Tybalt clutches his head and moves back.
<Kethean> After the dust settles a bit, Kethean begins to clear the rocks blocking the path down slowly.
<GM-Rat> It doesn't take long for Kethean to clear the rocks; heck, he could probably have squeezed through without doing that. There's now no light down in the caves, however.
* Tybalt feels slightly nervous, and carefully draws his sword.
<Siret> "So how is it down there?" Siret calls, not having heard much from their paladin in recent moments.
<Grisen> Grisen exams the room around him while he waits, scratching his chin and quietly waiting.
<GM-Rat> Grisen isn't actually in a room; the trapdoor is more a loose plank with a lock (well, it used to be) that was previously camoflagued with a hefty layer of dirt and scrub.
<Grisen> Grisen then examines the area, and shakes his head clear of rockdust. Must've gone to his brain.
* Tybalt guards the darkened cave entrance wearily. "Come down, lady wizard. We could use your light magic."
* Siret looks at the dwarf curiously. "Your kind see in the dark, don't you?" she asks curiously.
* Tybalt listens and sighs.
<Grisen> A curt nod, Grisen's hand resting on the hilt of his sword by nature. "Aye, elf," Grisen rumbles.
* Siret smiles at her dwarven companion. "We'll need time for proper introductions later, it seems. In any case, would you mind following the paladin down? I'm not a fighter by nature, and there ARE a large number of goblins down there. I'll follow momentarily, and Kethean can cover rear guard, yes?"
* Tybalt shakes his head silently, keeping a watch for goblins.
<Kethean> "That sounds fine to me," the monk notes in agreement to the elf's plan.
<GM-Rat> The cave is eerily silent. Only the constant dripping breaks the bleak monotony, and a smell of unwashed flesh.
<Grisen> With a single nod again, not another word escaping his lips, Grisen begins to follow down.
* Tybalt is nervous, but stands firm.
<Tybalt> "Come on, before the sun sets," he says with uncharacteristic seriousness.
<GM-Rat> Grisen doesn't have much trouble making out the tense figure of Tybalt, standing just next to a corner that leads off into parts unknown.
<Grisen> Looking deeper into the dark tunnel, Grisen goes to see what he can see as he goes down.
* Siret follows after the dwarf, sniffing in distaste at the stale and sour air.
<GM-Rat> Around the corner, Grisen can see.. yes, one tiny goblinoid figure, hiding in the darkness. He twitches slightly at Grisen's approach- blasted critters have the same sort of vision he does- but makes no move. An ambush if there ever was one. Apart from the goblin, Grisen can see part of larger cave around this corner, but not all of it; there are likely more goblins hiding within.
<Grisen> OOC - How close am I to the paladin?
<GM-Rat> OOC - Pretty much next to him, I guess.
* Tybalt looks at Grisen gratefully. "Hey."
<Kethean> With a look around to give one last check, the monk soon follows after the elf and dwarf into the darkness where the paladin waits.
<Grisen> Turning just enough to keep the goblin in sight and hide his lips, a soft whisper to the paladin. "Goblin ahead. Hiding."
* Tybalt nods.