RPG.avioc.org

He sat in the shadowed corner of the common room. It was a simple place and thus very much to his liking. They were simple people and that, too, added to his comfort. A short candle flickered in the middle of his table giving light sparingly and desperately trying to stay alight with the breeze that would flow through the windows. He rubbed his index finger along the edge of his wooden cup, feeling the cracks and grooves of overuse. He felt that way at times - overused and coming apart.

He was adorned in clothing from the multiple lands that he had visited, but these too were simple. His skin was the rich bronze of his people, and his hair straight and black. There were markings on his skin - inked tattoos in patterns of his tribe and the scars that had been left from the many altercations in which he had been involved. His name was Strongwind and as far as he knew, he was the last of his tribe, the Daqeen.

Once a strong people, they had roamed the lands of the Nestar Plains, keeping their herds of ponies and following the seasonal game. But then the men of the north had come carrying their banners of Aodhan to purge the sin from any who would not submit, and even those that did. Strongwind had watched as all of his people had been first driven back south, and then slowly destroyed. The rage that sparked within him set mettle to his hands and vengeance in his heart. He had ridden hard into the lands of his aggressors to reap upon them what they had sowed, but he failed. He was captured and tortured and made to repent for his sins to the One True Light. It was during this captivity when his life was almost at an end that he was saved by an unlikely rescuer, a man named Tarkus Haas. Tarkus was there to deal his own judgement on the zealots that ruled the lands of Ashera.

Strongwind's nail dug into the crack in his cup, as he sat and thought about his yesterdays, but they were over. He was still a wanderer but had now, at least for a time, found a place to stop and rest for a while. He liked the people. They were in some ways like his own folk, save they lived in the foothills of the West Barrier Mountains instead of the wide plains, and they herded sheep and goats. The similarities of life were enough to make it comfortable. Their structures were simple, too, of stone, mud, and wood, but not the monolithic cities that he had seen down south. It was simple. Easy. He drank from his cup and took another spoonful of the porridge that was before him. It was warm and the salted mutton tasted rich in his mouth.

The Daqeen was not sure where he was in respect to the lands that he had visited, only that he had ridden the westside of the mountains north out of Old Vil Galith and over the Plateau of Trelleu. He had spent a short time within the boundaries of Fallon earning money by entering their game pits. It had been dangerous and he had new scars to show for his efforts, but he had survived and had filled his coin purse enough to move on. Now Strongwind new he was somewhere along the mountains within the realm of the five city-states known as the Quintaal Compact. He figured that one day soon he would mount up again and maybe seek a passage over the Barriers, back into his own realm or maybe even the realm of his hated enemy - the Theocracy of Ashera.

But for now, it was quiet... and he was content.

Strongwind had not given much thought to his one true companion, Tarkus Haas. The Daqeen was not even sure where the Rider had gone. But he knew that one day they would band together again - Fate guided their fortune.

It wasn't until now that Strongwind realized that two newcomers had entered the small inn. They sat on stools near the large table that served as a bar and a place to serve oneself some of the evening's fare, and spoke softly to Dobbin, owner of the establishment.

"Not rightly sure of what I heard, but they say that the ground won't keep its dead there," mumbled one.

"Aye, t'is true... the whole town is plagued with horror and wickedness!" exclaimed the other.

"Sounds like the road has taken toll on your imaginations, lads... how far did you say you come?" asked Dobbin, a big toothy grin on his face.

"It ain't no lie," said the first traveler with a tinge of offense in his voice. "I'm tellin' ya! There be a blight upon that town and only those wise enough to leave are safe."

"Did you travel from there, or pass through it to see?" inquired Dobbin. The other answered, "Well... er... no! But we heard rumor on the road of people sufferin'! Who knows? Mayhap it stems from across the mountains... from the evil realm." The traveler's voice ended in a whisper as he spoke of the evil lands that were just over the Barriers. The land ruled by the terrible witch-lord, Ethicus.

"Sounds as if ya've been hearing some good ole yarns to keep the youngers from sleepin' at night. It is certainly worth a penny or two, or at least a bowl of mutton porridge on the house!" Dobbin winked as he picked up two wood bowls and slopped some of the thick soup into both. The two travelers did not protest the free meal, nor did they try to persuade old Dobbin anymore in the truth of their tale.

Only Strongwind sat and listened, and believed... after all, he had seen the dead walk.

---

:ooc: Hey John! Here it is, if you decide to play. If not, it can be an introduction for us the next time we are able to sit once more at a table together!  ;D

 And where was Tarkas, no matter, he would ride his own path until the winds brought them together again. Strongwinds finger made one more pass at the rim of the cup, overused and coming apart indeed! He rose quietly from the table ,took his unstrung bow from where it leaned lazily against the wall, and made his way to the bar, "Hear your tale, wine for your bellies, trade fair?"

The two travelers were slightly taken aback by Strongwind's presence. The Daqeen's build, manner of dress, tattoos and scars were intimidating and the travelers had a hard time meeting his gaze. The broken manner of Strongwind's words had at first made the one man look at him with questioning eyes, only to have them change to understanding when he realized what was asked.

"You want to know our tale?" the one man asked, to which the other replied, "We'd gladly accept some wine!"

Strongwind looked at the two travelers with a wan smile. They were happy to take his wine for their story, just as they took Dobbin's meal. "Beggars," he thought and he wondered at the validity or their words. No matter, he had already made the offer and so he might as well hear what they had to say. The Daqeen signaled to Dobbin to fill the two mens' cups and he threw a silver piece on the table.

The shiney coin made one of the traveler's eyes sparkle, "Yes, well... we come down the Tres road* over the last week and not three night's prior before we made it here, we came across some gypsies on the road. Not your normal fortune tellers either... these were working folk, woodsmen and their families. They said they had just abandoned thier homes the morning before due to problems with the dead not staying at rest. They said there was a plague, or something, which made me and my mate here wanna get some distance from 'em quick." He took a pull of wine from his cup, "They said that whatever had happened in their village had caused the dead to leave their graves, and those that were bitten by these horrors, would soon take sick and then rise some time later with the desire to kill and consume the living." The other traveler chimed in, "Yea, we hear that the whole village was being ransacked and that some of those most brave were holding out trying to kill the beasts. But how do you kill what is already dead?!" The traveler's last remark was said excitedly and it caused the few other patrons in Dobbin's place to look their direction.

"Anyway," replied the first. "We didn't stay near the gypsies too long. I didn't want to see anything that had passed the gates of life walking again. Nor did I wanna take sick with any disease they might be carrying. So we moved on fast, and here we are." The other man slurped the last of his wine from his cup, "They came from Barovia. A little town that sits between here and Kalspar on the foot of the Barriers. It is an old place, I hear. Folks have been living there for generations - woodsman and farmers and I guess miners. I hear they take good ore outta the hills. I reckon there are Dwarves amongst them. Anyway, the town sits under the eyes of Castle Barin-fel. I hear the lord of that place is a bit queer himself! Guess the castle has been in the same family since before the rise of Arnon... even back to when Vil Galith still ruled this far north."

The two fell silent and looked at Strongwind, then the silver coin that lay on the table - both with eyes that wondered if they had earned their cups and mayhap a second fill.

---

:ooc: *Tres Road is the name of the main road that runs out of the furthest city-state north in the Quintaal Compact, passing through Kalspar, and south to another city. I need to come up with the names of the four remaining city-states and will put them on the Darkhaven map, so you have points of reference. I have attached a map with the locations of Barovia and Castle Barin-fel - you are in Dobbin's inn in the small town called Tulwin.

He nodded to dobbin to take the coin, but there wouldnt be another forthcoming. He drank the last swallow of his own wine and placed the cup on the bar. "I must go Dobbin, good host, my thanks, but tonight i sleep below the sky". He gathered his pack and bow, he turned one last time to the men at the bar and a sneer found his lips before he could stop it. His heart needed a purpose, but much like the men themselves, his mind found the bulk of their words for lords and towns of little use, he liked to keep things simple. "This place, this Barov is north yes? Among the foothills?"

"Aye, sir. You will find it along the base of the Barriers. You can either take the main road north, or use the mountain foothill trails that the hunters and shepherds use. In any case, you will know Barovia when you see the castle sitting atop the crest that surmounts the town."

Again the sneer, "Borovya" He could never guess why the whiteskins mangled their words. A nod was the only thnks he gave the men, and as he turned to leave he flipped another silver Dobbins way "For your little ones" And then headed for the door, his mind already wondering at the path of his feet. His horse Pedowin loved to ride at night beneath the stars, as did strongwind, perhaps it would  clear his thoughts.

Strongwind rode through the evening under a sky blooming with stars. To his right, the mountains rose into the sky reaching for the very stars themselves. There was a cool wind that blew down upon him carrying the scent of pine and the occassional musk of an animal that had claimed its territory. Pedowin would whicker at times giving warning of some potential unseen threat, but nothing revealed itself to the man and horse.

When the moon began to wane, Strongwind reined in the mare and dismounted. Weariness had caught up with him and he quickly set a camp - more so, he laid out his blanket and lay down under the eves of the mountains. Pedowin was free to roam about and crop at the sweet grasses that grew in abundance.

The night passed. Two more came and went with no incident.

On Strongwind's fourth day of riding, the clouds rolled in out of the west and seemed to stack themselves up against the sides of the mountains. Rain did not fall, but a cold mist rose and fog settled in the recesses of the land. The Daqeen's clothing soon became damp and chill, as he rode - even Pedowin seemed to lose spirit, the horse's head hanging low as it walked. Then, the animal raised up, its ears back in alarm. It snorted and stamped as it smelled at the wind. Something was wrong.

Strongwind peered through the fog trying to discern any threats, but only the trees could be seen rustling in the faint breeze. Then the fog was drawn away and he could see a small village that lay down into a valley, and above it, sitting atop a rise of hills was a massive castle. The ramparts looked weathered, almost dilapidated, with dark portals overseeing the valley below. Strongwind had the impression of a great carrion bird sitting atop a branch as it waited for its prey to die.

He spurred Pedowin forward, towards the town, and towards a new adventure.

No one who truly knew the man would ever call Strongwind cautious, but he trusted his mounts senses more than he trusted anything. He kept Pedowin at a slow walk and strung his bow,  he also loosened the strap of his shortsword on his back. He had a mind to check for tracks to gain an idea of recent traffic passing this way, he also thought to put his own nose to the air, that thought brought a twisted grin at an old memory. In his youth, the Balkep of his tribe, which loosely translated to war captain or cheif of the hunt, would always have strongwind ride out front. He claimed Strongwind could smell a bear shitting in a cave on far side of the barrier mountains, that smile and the memory of his youth brought back that shadow of survivors guilt that had not quitre left him. His people had been burned to ash and taken by the wind. With an iron will he pushed that darkness back down into his soul. He rode on, breathing deeply through his nose, he would find what manner of beast shit hereabouts, and perhaps what cave or keep it hid within.



:ooc:
Track 66%
Roll(1d100)+0:
57,+0
Total:57

Scent 92%
Roll(1d100)+0:
65,+0
Total:65

Strongwind looked down into the valley to the thin, winding ro :xad that led to the small town. It was rutted with hoove and wheel tracks, as if a great amount of travelers had recently arrived in Barovia... or perhaps fled. Great fir trees grew along the roads length and the valley walls, surrounding the town in a pleasent setting. Rearing above all were castle on the higher foothills, and the snow-capped mountains, stoney and gray. The clouds were still roiling against the peaks and the winds came down off the bluffs swelling the pine trees and blowing cold into his face. The air was rich with the scent of pine, but Strongwind could also sense a fetid odor, that of rotting flesh.

Strongwind's acute sense of smell also discerns the scent of burning wood. His eyes rove down the valley-side and catch sight of a thin wisp of smoke rising from the trees. A campfire?

(http://rpg.avioc.org/webimages/dh_images/wickedrealm/loc3.jpg)

Strongwind only hesitated for a second before turning his mount towards the campfire. He made no attempts to mask his aproach, but kept his bow at the ready. He tried his best Tarkus Haas impersonation, which was not all that good. "Hail, hail the fire"

"Hail to you," replied a voice from the forest."If you have come to rob me, sir, then you are to late! Others before you have already stripped me of my worldly goods."

There was no fear in the voice that Strongwind heard, only resignation.

"Not theif, but not victim either" Strongwind said, as he slipped off of Pedowins back and walked towards the fire. Pedowin was an old hand, she walked patiently behind him eyeing the fog. "Perhaps can help, share food, for fire and story, trade fair?" He moved closer trying to get a look at this man. "Called Strongwind, am honest, but have no trickery, cross me, take life the theives left you with, do quickly so, peace between us?"

The hooves of Pedowin clomped softly on the needle-covered forest floor, as Strongwind weaved his mount around and under the pines. He soon was close enough to see the smoke rising from a small fold in the valley-side and a man in a simple white robe sitting next to it. He idlely poked a stick into the coals, but then turned back to look as the Daqeen warrior approached.

The man raised an eyebrow when he saw Strongwind and then spoke, "Not a thief, eh? Well... then Aodhan be praised. The last group that looked and sounded like you were not so kind. Your accent is strange, but familiar... perhaps are you one of the many pony tribesmen that live on the other side of these mountains? If so, you are far from home. I guess the same could be said for me."

Strongwind looked at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed man with a peculiar gaze. He was quite handsome, in an almost feminine way, but seemed of good build and health. There was no apparent worry of sickness or disease, though he looked to be a hermit. Still, he seemed to be conversing with himself more so than to Strongwind and he wondered at his state of mind. Yet, the Daqeen took pause when the man mentioned the deity - Aodhan, the bringer of Light - lord of the Theocrat of Ashera.

The man continued, "Yes... yes... peace between be certain. I have no wish to harm you, nor would I have the means!" He chuckled at his joke, "Please sit by the fire and warm yourself. I would appreciate the company of another honest soul. Your help, a story, and food are all welcome as well! My name is Branon, and until the winter past, I was once a proud servant of my master, Aodhan." Branon put his hand to his forehead, "Perhaps that is the reason for my fall to this level - pride! One never knows, eh?!"

He laughed heartily and pointed to the ground around his fire, "Come! Sit. This fire and this robe are all I have now, but you are welcome at my table."

Strongwinds knuckles whitened on the grip of his bow. "Your ears are true, am of the pony tribes to the east" He deftly unstrung his bow and leaned it against a nearby tree. He took a breath to calm himself and rifled through his pack on Pedowins rump, pulling out the last of his salted meat. "My people called Daqeen, but they no more. Crusaders from ashera see to that. Ive no love for Aodhan Brannon, but am sharing food for fire and news. We speak, maybe find a reason let you live." He busily began setting up a crude spit with whatever materials are nearby, keeping one eye on Brannon to gauge his reaction.


:ooc: This is kool buddy having fun, gonna update my sheet with Pedowins stats cause i gotta fealing she will be biting and trampling people before im done here :)

"I am not familiar with your people, but neither was I part of the crusades into the plains. I am sorry for your loss... it is sometimes so hard to see His Light." Strongwind heard the words regarding the holy light of Aodhan, but he also heard true sincerity in Branon's voice for his tribe. "Oh, I kid myself... I, too, have found it hard to find love for my god. My faith in him, my church... all broken. Pride and broken faith... perhaps that is truly why I am lowered to this." Branon looked up to the sky, as if expecting a confirmation. "I was cast from my order. Cast from the church. And now I wander, trying to bring the word of Aodhan's kind love, but I may be alone in this journey. I am certain that he has also abandoned me." The cleric looked at Strongwind, a handsome smile crossing his face, "I mean look at me! I sit in a hemp robe, penniless, shoeless, and all of the items of my state stolen by the Vistani! Most certainly I have been damned!" He then breathed in deep and his face lost its amusement, "Though I wonder what that holds for me..."

His last words ended in a whisper. Strongwind tore some meat from the now warm, cured roast, and handed it to Branon. "Bless you, sir Daqeen," was the humble reply.

They sat there quietly for a time and then Branon spoke again, "News? You asked for news. Of this area, I assume? Well... tis said that the region is suffering a plight of the undead, centered around Barovia. I was on my way to the town to see if I could lend some aid. There is a church in Barovia, but they do not pay heed to the Light of Aodhan, and so I journeyed there in hopes to offer help. And perhaps find my salvation." Again the cleric's last words fell to a whisper. "Anyway, as I lay in sleep after a long day's journey, I awoke this morning to a poniard in my face. A long-haired halfling stood atop my chest and declared my life forfeit should I not give to him and his brothers my worldly things. I declared to them that I was a man of the Light and Aodhan guided my path. He declared that Aodhan must certainly have guided me for their need was plenty and that my gold would feed them for a year." He chuckled, "They at least had the courtesy to leave me my modesty."

Branon sighed, "So, Daqeen... what is your tale. What brings you to the edge of nowhere?"

"My tale, too long to tell. Roaming this land, and many others, eight seasons now. Fight wars, many battles. Have friend says am "stuck in loop". Came here same reason as Branon, hear trouble, come to help" Strongwind let those words sink in as he situated Pedowin, gave her the last of the carrots Dobbin had given him, and then settled back down by the fire. "Am thinkin, church throw Branon out. Branon not so bad. Seen courage and pride, seen simple and not simple ways to live, seen evil like men of Ashera, like Darach Fain, black hearts, kill children"

"Well then, Sir Daqeen! We shall go and aid this town of Barovia, together, eh?!" Branon smiled wide and then tore the meat in his hands into two strips, pushing one into his mouth. He gripped it in his teeth momentarily, breathing in and out to cool it. "The food is good. Thank you. Oh, if only we had a cold ale to wash it down. Here is my promise to you, Strongwind, help me help the people of Barovia so that perhaps they will rain their gratitude down upon us, and I will buy you the best wine from the vineyards of Arnon!"

"It is plan then, let us see." Strongwind gathered his bow and situated his pack on Pedowins back. He took a quick look around the campsite to see if the aforementioned halfling theif left any tracks, and perhaps which direction the thieves traveled in.


Track66%
Roll(1d100)+0:
45,+0
Total:45

If there had been a halfling walking about, Strongwind could not find any sign of his path, but his comrades were a different story. This was no surprise to the Daqeen, as halflings were known to be able to pass without leaving a trace. But whomever he had surrounded himself with, and Strongwind made a guess at four others based on the tracks, it was easy to see the direction that they had run off.

Now there were two choices - go north to find the Vistani rogues, or go east towards Barovia. Branon saw the question in Strongwind's eyes, "I can say one thing, Daqeen, if we find these thieves then I am certain to regain the few items that I had which should aid in our work in the town. Otherwise, I enter with nothing but my faith as a weapon... and it may not be well-honed! I hear the Vistani reside in these hills near Barovia, so it will not be as if we will go far. But, it is your choice of course."

"North then, maybe get posessions back. See tracks four or five here, think more in hills?"

"The gypsy camps are many around here, so yes, we will probably see more than five. They have matriarchal figures, three old crones that supposedly can tell a man's future. Anyway, I have been told that they reside near Tser pool which lies on the northside of the village."

---

:ooc: A correction, John - I made a mistake based on my map. The tracks that you can see go west, and Barovia lies north from the point I marked called Branon's camp. So west would be the route to follow the rogues.

I attached a zoomed out map below. It will also be on the drop down above for future reference.

"Follow tracks, maybe get lucky find hideout. If lead to village, look for halfling."

The two men gathered their remaining items and then Branon lifted his robe to urinate on the fire. He turned towards Strongwind and smiled, "Forgive my rudeness, Daqeen, but I have no desire for my little campfire to escape its bounds and catch any of these dry pine needles. It is like kindling and the whole forest could go up! It would certainly please the Lord Karaturr, but I pay no homage to him and so will extinguish this small flame."

The priest finished his work, dropped his robe and turned to follow Strongwind who led his horse by the reins. The two men moved down the graded valley wall until they came at last to the level plain of its riverbed. The Ivlis River had once been wide and cut deep into the earth to form this valley, but now it was thin though its waters were still clean, cold, and good. As they marched, Branon began a dissertation on the land around them, "These woods, Daqeen, are called the Svalich. It is a dense forest of pine and other deciduous trees..." Seeing confusion on Strongwind's face, he continued, "Trees that drop their leaves. I studied these things in the University of Ashera, along with my studies to be a priest. The air is cool here and mists seem to cling to the mountainside and most times will fill this valley. It actually can make the place damp and dreary and I know not why the people stay, but they do. Anyway, soon we will come down to the Old Svalich road where we may either turn north for an easy walk to Barovia, or pass over and continue our hunt for the rogues."

Branon was quite right. They soon were standing on the road. A cool wind blew from off the mountains, yet the wispy fog hung close to the many defiles in the land. Strongwind let go of Pedowin's reins and moved to locate the tracks that might lead them to the Vistani gypsies. He walked some yards up the road when he espied the two high stone pillars, gray in the fog. Gates of iron were closed between the stonework, dew clinging to their rusted bars. Also before the two pillars were two statues of armed guardians at attention with long polearms in their hands. Their carved heads lie among the weeds at their feet, neatly broken from their stone shoulders.

A wolf howled far in the distance. Its sad cry hanging long in the valley.

The mists clung close now to Strongwind and he felt a chill up his spine.

The Daqeen saw at his feet the trail he was looking for. He turned back to Branon. The priest and Strongwind's horse seemed farther away then what he had thought he had walked. He called out, but his voice seemed subdued by the fog.

"What?" replied Branon, his voice also small.

Strongwind was about to reply when a grating sound startled him. He quickly turned to see the gates of Barovia opening of their own accord... inviting him in.

Strongwind strung his bow and peered through the gates. Without turning away he called to Brannon. "Am at gates, going in, come to voice, or follow Pedowin." He gave a low clicking sound from his throat to lead his mount throiugh the fog, he pulled a red feathered arrow from his quiver and knocked it to his bow. He stood ready at the gates of Barovia, waiting for his companions.


:ooc:Idk if this seems tedious or is unnecessary but id like to make a see role and a scent roll doug, lol i feel like im abusing my skills or some such, but he would definetly utilize his senses atm


See 59%
Roll(1d100)+0:
7,+0
Total:7

scent 92%
Roll(1d100)+0:
73,+0
Total:73

:ooc: Nothing is tedious or unnecessary, man. Play it like you would if we were sitting at a table. If your PC is wanting to make a concentrated effort at something, then roll the dice. If he is just giving a standard cursory glance, then no dice rolls are necessary. There is no abuse here. Also, feel free to tell me if there is something in particular you are trying to achieve when you make a roll. This is not always necessary, and there are times that you do not know what can turn up, but the more info you want to put never hurts.  ;)

Strongwind could smell nothing more in the air save the forest and the faint fetid odor, like a breeze that softly blows over spoiled meat. He peered around him looking deep into the mists that clung close to the ground but there was nothing there.The muted clop of his horse's hooves came up behind him along with Branon.

"Maybe the wind?" asked the cleric regarding the open gates.

All was quiet around them and no wind stirred.

"Very well, not keep wind waiting. I go in, horse follow, stay next to horse." Strongwind thought to offer brannon a dagger, or one of his many hatchets. "Can help you if stay close. Can protect self?"

"Aye, Sir Daqeen, I am very good with my weapon of choice... unfortunately, I see no blades here amongst your stash. Alas that it was taken from me whils't I still slept. I will stay close to your horse, but mayhaps the prayers to my Lord will aid us."

And so the two men passed through the gates of Barovia - one going forward alone, armed with bow and arrow, the other following a few paces behind. When Pedowin and Branon caught up to where Strongwind had advanced, a grating metal sound came again as the large gates began to swing closed. They clanged upon reaching each other and the two were now within the bounds of the town.

"Strange set of gates," said Branon. "They are inefficient for any defense, nor do they keep anyone contained! All you needs do is walk around them on either side." He chuckled.

Again a wolf's lonely cry  echoed through the valley causing Pedowin's ears to fold back against her head.

"Well Strongwind, what path does your nose take us now? T'would seem that we have been invited in to the town, yet the trail to the Vistani goes west."

Up the road lay Barovia and now to their west was more of the Svalich Woods and then the Ivlis river. They had to choose.

---

:ooc: I know you guys were following the Vistani, but does the gates create more of an appealing path? Let me know.

"Stay on tracks from theives, while still fresh."

Yeah he will keep tracking the theives for now doug

Strongwind led Branon off the road and into the Svalich woods, leaving the old rusted gates of Barovia behind. The land pitched down into an apparent long-dried river basin. The trees grew tall and full, digging deep into the rich soil. Branches hung low and the two companions were occassionaly snagged, or tugged, as they weaved about. Strongwind stayed tightly on the trail. It was apparent that the Vistani rogues did not bother too much with stealth.

Soon, the air became thick with mist and the smell of decay hung heavy. The ground changed from firm footing to thick mud that sucked at their boots. Flies and gnats swarmed in clouds and irritated both eyes and nose of men and horse alike. Branon swatted at something that buzzed deep in his ear, "Aodhan be blessed, but this is a nasty bog we have found. I have heard that the Ivlis marshed in this basin, but I did not know that we'd march right into it!"

Strongwind heard the exasperation in the priest's voice, but said nothing. There was nothing to say. The land did what the land would, and you learned to live in accord with those things that lived within this world - nuisance though they be. Still, the Daqeen warrior did begin to worry about Pedowin. This terrain was the perfect place for him to have his mount break a leg. That was when Strongwind saw the form - a man - standing some yards in front of them, obscured by the mist. Its back was to them and it was apparent that he was hindered by the marsh, the man's legs sunk deep up to his calves.

In the distance, a lonely howl echoed again.

The mist seemed chill and Branon pulled his light robe away from his skin. "I am getting soaked," he muttered, his voice muted.

Strongwind could plainly see the tracks of a group of people, at least five strong, continuing north.

Strongwind made a sign to Branon to keep quiet, as he gathered some supplies from his saddlebag. He fished out a riding cloak and handed it to Branon.  He motioned for pedowin and Branon to hold position, taking his rope he moved slowly towards the mystery figure in the mist, testing the ground gingerly before him. Moving closer to get a better look.

As he approached, Strongwind felt the tug on his feet from the thick marsh mud. He looked at the man who stood there, stuck as he was, and could see he was a trapper, or hunter. Skins of small animals hung from his belt along with snares and other implements for trapping.

But something was off.

The man's movements were odd. He was standing there looking towards the mud, but he made no obvious movements to free himself. Where one might grab with their hands to pull their foot free, the man's hands instead grasped at the air in slow awkward motions. It was then, too, that Strongwind saw the brown smear that stained the trapper's collar and tunic. The Daqeen moved slightly to his right to get a better look and saw that the trapper's throat was near to torn out.

Strongwind's foot made a sucking sound and it caught the trapper's attention. The man slowly turned to look in the Daqeen's direction and it was a face from hell that stared hungrily at Strongwind. The mottled flesh was gray, the eyes wide and staring, and the mouth a maw of torn flesh and gore. The trapper, stuck as he was, started to reach out towards Strongwind, grasping at the air as if to get leverage to pull him in that direction. A slight moan escaped the mouth and caused the hairs to stand up on Strongwind's arms.

Alow hiss escaped strongwinds lips. He droppped his rope, his rescue attempt a distant memory. He rasied his bow and fired two silver arrows in quick succession.

Bone bow atk119%
2d6+1d4+5  silver arrow +2d6 vs undead

Roll(1d100)+0: 21,+0 Total:21
Arrow one
Roll(2d6)+0: 2,2,+0 Total:4+5
Roll(1d4)+0: 4,+0 Total:4
Roll(2d6)+0: 2,3,+0 Total:5
85%to save

Roll(1d100)+0: 1,+0 Total:1 (ouch)
Arrow 2
Roll(2d6)+0: 1,3,+0 Total:4+5
Roll(1d4)+0: 2,+0 Total:2
Roll(2d6)+0: 5,2,+0 Total:7
85% to save

 :ooc: First combat so let me know if this is ok or i need to change the way im doing it

Quote from: Callowmoryne on Jan 09, 2011, 08:06 AM
:ooc: First combat so let me know if this is ok or i need to change the way im doing it

:ooc: I made some modifications so I can read it better, but I will let you know if there is anything else needing changed.

I will get you some more info later tonight or tomorrow.

:ooc: Dude, I forget what the hell the 85% to save means on the arrows. Did it mean the creature had an 85% chance to save against the additional effects, or is it that Strongwind has an 85% chance to save the arrow once fired? Let me know if you have any clarification on this, but for now I am going to call it the latter.

---

Strongwind's arrows struck the trapper easily. If the first had not killed it, the second arrow assuredly did. It hit the undead creature just under the ear and crashed through the opposite side of the skull, gray matter clinging to the protruding end. The man went limp and fell to his knees and then forward into the bog. The Daqeen would need to wade out into the muck if he were to retrieve the two enchanted arrows that were tempered to slay the undead.

Around them, save for the clicks of frogs and insects along with the occassional bird call, it was quiet and nothing in the fog stirred.

 :ooc: It was the former sir, the quiver of many was self replenishing so he had an 85% to save against the extra 2d6


When the abomination fell Strongwind recovered his rope frm the mud where it lay, and made his way back to the priest and his mount. He strained his senes at the fog around him. Stuffing his rope back in his saddlebag, in low voice to his companion "The dead walk here Branon,  follow track of thieves, but be ready and make little sound."

:ooc: Self replenishing? Man, I was a damn nice GM back then, huh? Maybe one to many Wild Turkeys!  ;)

I may re-think that 85% chance to save stuff... I might base it on the attributes of the victim instead of a flat 85% chance.

---

With the zombie dead and no other apparent threats, Strongwind led them on. The two men skirted the wet, and thick marsh following a track that was seen by the Daqeen's keen eyes. The sun overhead, although only a bright white spot in the fog, slowly arched over their heads as they day passed.

The ground began to firm up once more and the Ivlis river could be seen through the woods, defined in its river bed instead of the washed out land of the marsh. The trees dispersed as the men exited the Svalich woods onto the long flat plain on which sat Barovia to their north. They continued along quietly until Strongwind and Branon both spotted the wisp of smoke that rose from a campfire.  They slowed their movement and peered out to see what was there. Branon spoke, "I see a wain... unlimbered and the horses, or mules, wander to the west cropping grass." At his words, Pedowin seemed to understand, and whickered at the scent of the other animals. "I see a number of folk walking about the camp and some to the north of it... they number more than us. We should be careful, less we both be reduced to paupers."

---

:ooc: R on the map sinifies a male rogue, F signifies a female

 :ooc:  Lol yeah may have been a wild turkey night :) You created buddy, im ok with u modifying it, And thats alotta rogues!! i may be waiting for some more of my table to show up b4 i get too far into this lol

Strongwind took a moment to think, only a few seconds really. " Tracks lead here, good chance they have your things. If try talk, talk from far so can kill some before they reach us. Can protect self, or want to hide in the woods?"

Strongwind now noticed the purpose of the few rogues to the north of the camp. The men were armed with bow and arrow and were firing at a few shapes that staggered in the mist. The rogues laughed amongst themselves as they would fire an arrow. The Daqeen realized they were targeting undead in the mists that were moving towards them!

Pedowin whickered again, which drew the attention of the other horses. This in turn drew the attention of the Vistani around the fire. The two groups looked at each other from a distance, and then one cried out, "WHO YA BE AND WHATCHA BE WANTIN'?"

Strongwind and Branon could hear the accent in the man's voice. The priest suddenly noticed the short halfling rogue that sat up off of a log. He tapped Strongwind's arm, "That is the one that stood on my chest with his poiniard in my face while his friends rustled my things."

With a hiss Strongwind mounted and made his bow ready. Am called Strongwind, took some things from this priest. Was hoping to take them back. Can help with the dead if give back. But no doublecross, wont hesitate to kill you all and take what i want. Trade fair?"

:ooc: John, I think I am going to hold off on moving this forward until I hear more from Chris and Phil.

 :ooc: Thats kool buddy, trying to get them to get their shit together

"Let's not be sparring words from afar and making threats! Come forth and we'll see about your trade." The Vistani smiled to himself, his thoughts being that he might be even more rich within the next few minutes.

Sitting amongst the Vistani kin, silently warming himself, was a Yoshiman named Sho Soga. The man was from the island nation of Naipai and had found himself far from home after his vessel had been washed over by the sea. He was fortunate to find land off the Quintaal peninsula - south of Dezolan - but soon found himself indebted to those that had fed and sheltered him. His own wealth was far away on his home island of Honakki, at least as much wealth as a monk would gather unto himself, and all else was lost to the sea. The only things he possessed were his personal items - quarterstaff, robes, and jewelry - which he would not offer up as trade or sale due to their uniqueness. So, he was stuck selling his skills to those that would offer food, shelter, medicine, or any other need. The unfortunate thing was that each trail that led to compensation led him further inland and south, instead of north, towards his home.

Sho was none to pleased with his current hosts. They were petty, dirty, and cheaters. He recognized the priest that they had robbed two days hence and felt pity for the man. He had laid there sleeping while the Vistani rooted his items only to awaken to steel at the tip of his nose. There was only so much that Sho Soga was willing to barter for a warm meal, and his honor was not one of them. He only watched as the rogues had pilfered the priest to nothing but his cotton robe. The Yoshiman felt that there would not be another pirating this day... indebted for food or not, he would not aid in another theft.

 :ooc: Fuckin Sweet!!

Strongwind made a double click sound, and Pedowin began a slow walk towards the camp. "I say again, am called Strongwind, am Daqueen,  not use threats. Always speak true." He pulled Pedowin to a stop after he was in range of the farthest of the bandits. He loosened the vorpal sword on his back, and the hatchet at his belt. He pulled a red arrow from his quiver, knocked it,  and drew back his bow sighting one of the archers who were firing at the walking dead.  He gave their leader a cold smile. "Am killing now, promise to stop when return property."

Composite bone bow 119

Damage

2nd arrow 99

Damage

Sho leaned heavily  on his staff , his head low and his heart heavy. He had seen into the hearts of these men whom he rode with these last days, and found them an abomination. Forced himself to deny his inner beliefs for want of food and survival he pitied  these men around him.  Pitied but not forgiven. Remembering the wise words of his ancestors before him, he closed his eyes. Clearing his mind of thought and emotion he slowly walked into the fold, quarterstaff in hand.

 :ooc: Oh man phil! Great post bro, right out the gate lol

Situation: The Vistani rogue encampment - Strongwind engages with surprise.

R1 has taken 27 damage (reduced by 4 for armor), he is Wounded -50%
* I will label each rogue with a number as you guys make your attacks.

Situational Modifiers: none

Physical Modifiers: none


Initiative:
Strongwind 17
Sho 16
Vistani 13
Brannon 12

---

The leering smile of the Vistani turned to a look of shock as Strongwind's arrows flew through the air and struck one of the rogue archers. The man grunted in surprise from the impact and then fell to the ground, looking in horror at his ghastly wounds. His fellows also turned to him in surprise, all the while the shambling undead moved closer in the field.

A gurgle rose in the leaders throat and expelled as a scream, "ACK! We can talk!"

Amongst the Vistani, Sho Soga readied himself against these people with whom he found dishonor.

:ooc: Yea it was, man! I think Phil will work into this format of playing just fine.  ;)

And to help you with my manner of posting Phil...

:ooc: - this icon signifies Out of Character (which just means you are talking and not your PC)
:csu: - this icon tells me that you have updated your character sheet for things like damage, treasure added, ammo used, etc. It keeps me from making changes to your character sheet and doubling the cost or bonus.

---

I use a horizontal line to separate my in game/character stuff from out of game character stuff, and usually paint my out of character stuff MAROON.

And finally, I do enemy actions (dice rolls) in RED  and good guy stuff in NAVY. I do not care what colors you use, but please steer clear from RED when you do your actions as I will sometimes scan pages looking for colors to find when actions are performed.

 :ooc: Ok I think I'm getting the hang of it now.

:ooc: John, you may act in this round even though you fired already. The first arrow attack was essentially a surprise attack and now we go into Agility order.

Also, if you guys decide to refrain from combat and talk, that is fine too - we will use this thread for that.

Strongwind sneered at the man. He was brave enough to rob a simple preist in his sleep but had not the guts to stand against a true warrior even with his greater numbers. "It is good, i send Brannon forward and you return property. I also help with the dead, but no tricks. Am serious sort." He looked to the priest at his side and searched the mans eyes for fear. "Go get your things, call out if need help."

:ooc: Doug id like to ride straight north and attack the undead but still keep my distance from the camp. If thats possible in this round, here is the rolls against the closest animated corpse. Ill stick with red arrows.

Bone bow 119

Damage

2nd arrow 99

Damage

Listening to that warriors words brought Sho a chuckle to his lips. So proud that one is he thought. Turning his attention north all his muscles tensed and ran shivers down his spine as he glanced at the walking dead moving towards him. Let these thugs and pimps succumb to there own fate in the hands of this strongwind. Shock and disbelief were racing through his thoughts of the undead. To see something that is the ultimate definition of unbalance in the universe before him. Slowly tensing the small muscles in his body back to discipline he lunged forward into a small sprint with his quarterstaff stuffed behind him, towards the real enemy at hand.... :ooc: Not quite sure the distance, if I'm close enough to strike one this round. If so I'd love to pommel one of the zombies on the left ....Quarterstaff

Brannon approached the camp and gave a nervous bow to the rogue, "Umm... well... yes, I am here for my items that you pilfered from me yesterday."

The Vistani glared back at the priest, but then shifted his eyes to the Daqeen that rode not too far away. Just who the hell did he think he was attacking his people and then riding around them like some kind of champion defender. He ajusted his sight to rest on a woman that sat near - her mending needle and thread still in hand - and softly spoke to her, "Ula... mortay d'ando sai."

The woman Vistani looked at the priest and nodded. She stood and walked towards the wagon. Brannon made a smile at her and watched as she trotted away, presumably to acquire his things. The rogue leader kept his eyes now on the priest and then his mouth opened to cry, "SAVEZ! SAVEZ!! DAQEEN!"

In the field some distance away, the Vistani archers turned at the cry from their leaders and then nocked arrows to their bowstrings and fired.

---

:00: Bow 57% - attack on Strongwind




Damage if successful:

:ooc: Well don't those dudes just really suck!  (-D

Hey John, your arrows hit one of the creatures and it staggers and falls. They are not an integral in the scene at the moment - just background flavor - but still, you have success.

Phil - you sprint a good distance away from the camp, but the creatures are still another round of running to close for melee.

"Come Pedowin, these wolves have teeth after all." He turned his horse and rode towards the archers. Firing his bow as he went.

:ooc: Attack closest archer Bone bow 119

2nd arrow 99


Damage

Damage

 :ooc: damn I posted last night but never checked my rolls, that 01 is gonna hurt lol

Sho realized half step that his new acquaintance was in real trouble with these archers. Pivoting half step with his right leg he made hast for the vistani woman with the priest. Although it guilt-ed him slightly to attack these people for all human life is sacred to him, he would not let innocents suffer.He brought his quarterstaff to bear with a twist of his hands. Feeling the cold wood of the staff brought a warm familiarity to his mind as he released the energy of the staff into the woman.In the chance to free the unarmed priest. 
Quarterstaff
Damage 18

Strongwind's arrows fly straight and brutally true striking an archer in the throat and sending him reeling backwards. The man grasped futilely but was dead as he hit the ground. Pedowin brought the Daqeen warrior in closer to the rest of the armed Vistani.

Sho had changed his direction and ran back into the camp to aid the priest. He brought his staff around in an arc, attempting to drop the woman he believed threatened the unarmed cleric. Unfortunately the swing was too soon, and she went unscathed.

---

:ooc: Sho rolled an 89, but needs a 68 or less.

New round is going to be posted. All surprise has been executed, and now the Vistani are aware of the threats and have orders to kill.

Situation: The Vistani rogue encampment - Strongwind engages with surprise.

R1 has taken 27 damage (reduced by 4 for armor), he is Wounded -50%
* I will label each rogue with a number as you guys make your attacks.

Situational Modifiers: none

Physical Modifiers: none


Initiative:
Strongwind 17
Sho 16
Vistani 13
Brannon 12

---

The Vistani all drew weapons. The interlopers would pay for their attacks.

Strongwind finally noticed the Yoshima in the midst of the Vistani rogues. He was foreigner, much like himself, and seemed to have made a decision about the company he kept. So be it. His arrows fired on approach, had found their mark, and one of the archers went down. He was in their midst now. The thieves came face to face with a cold-eyed killer. He kept his bow in his left hand, and pulled the vorpal sword from his back, slashing overhand at the next closest target.

:ooc: Vorpal sword 79% -20% for drawing weapon = 59%



Damage if successful

 :ooc: Sorry forgot to say attacking R1

:ooc: Just waiting on Sho, and then I will move this round on.

 :ooc: K kool, also if these guys go to surround me ill need to find Pedowins abilities cause she will be kicking and biting fools who get to close

Sho is taken aback that his limbs have failed him. He decides to lean his body on the staff and and whip his right leg around at the female rogue standing next to him. Let her death be quick and may her force find peace.
 
Leg 63%
 
Damage
  +

 :ooc: Man what the hell have they been feeding my guy, I blame all that starch in his diet.

:ooc:  (-D Dude! I know your pain sometimes!

Strongwind's Vistani (8 HP per level) takes 14 more damage (31 total) - reduced to Near death -90%

The Vistani attack back...

R3 and R4 attack Strongwind with arrows:
:00: Ranged 57%





R5 and R6 rush to attack Sho with shortswords:
:ooc: Melee 68%





RL (leader) attacks Brannon with a shortsword
:ooc: Melee 78%



Brannon will attempt to Dodge if leader is successful
:ooc: Dodge 65%

:ooc: Okay...

-Strongwind takes 1 hit for 11 that he needs to dodge
-Sho takes 1 hit for 10 that he needs to parry
-Brannon takes 9 damage

 :ooc: Since im still on my horse its a ride skill to dodge correct? If not ill give you a reg one

Ride 97%

:ooc: Ride is right... you are all set.

dodge 85%

Situation: The Vistani rogue encampment - Strongwind engages with surprise (Vistani have 8 HP per wound level).

R1 41 hit points of damage; -90% Near death


Situational Modifiers: none


Physical Modifiers: none


Initiative:
Strongwind 17
Sho 16
Vistani 13
Brannon 12

Strongwind took in the entire feild in a seconds glance. He feared the priest and the yoshima may need his help soon. Nevertheless he couldnt leave these archers at his back. If they died before he could reach them than so be it. He would give their spirits to the mud. He quickly replaced his sword to its sheath on his back, and pulled an arrow in the same motion bringing his bow up at the nearest archer.

:ooc:  assuming i can do that with only a -20% i will only fire one arrow this round if it makes it seem more plausible your call.


Composite bow 119%-20  99%


Damage

:ooc: Also i forgot the 1d4 Ranged and the +5 damage bonus on my previous rolls

 :ooc: hey man gonna post for phil this afternoon, he's got issues with being the only available manager at his work for the next few days, he said we can post for him to keep things moving

:ooc: sounds good, dude.

 :ooc: phil is gonna post tonight  buddy, also I see mr. Lilly may be joining us :)

:ooc: Yes he is!  ;D

With a chuckle on his lips he sweeps into motion. First a powerful dip into a swan like motion reaching for his staff. He sets his hips and powers into the motion as he brings his quarterstaff around.

Quarterstaff 68 %


Damage
18 +

 :ooc: nice pic :) also a good hit

Rogue 3 attempts to Dodge Strongwind's arrow:
:00: Dodge 55%


Rogue 5 attempts to Parry Sho's quarterstaff:
:00: Parry 65%

:ooc: Vistani Rogue 3 takes 20 damage (armor takes 2), reduces him to Injured -20%

Rogues attack Strongwind:
:00: Archers 57% (R3 at 37%)



Damage if successful:



Rogues attack Sho:
:00: Shortswords 68%



Damage if successful:



Rogue leader attacks Brannon:
Rogues attack Sho:
:00: Shortswords 78%


Damage if successful:

Brannon attempts to Dodge:
Dodge 65%

:ooc:
Sho is hit once and will need to parry.
Brannon takes another 7 hit points damage

Brannon looks at his light robe stained now with his blood and he begins to panic. He neither has his armor, weapons, or even the talismans of his faith. He reaches out with his mind and spirit to his god - Aodhan - in hopes that maybe he might be graced and that his spell would be empowered.

---

Brannon casts Call lightning on the rogue leader - spends 4 MP for a 4d10 charge:
:00: Casting skill 79%

There was a sudden flash of light and then a bone-rattling BOOM!

The Vistani leader disappeared in the stark white bolt of lightning, only to reappear, after it dissipated, smoking and stunned. Brannon smiled to himself. Aodhan had heard him and answered - perhaps his soul was not lost.

---

:ooc: Going to post the new round but Phil can still parry here.

Situation: The Vistani rogue encampment - Strongwind engages with surprise (Vistani have 8 HP per wound level).

R1 41 hit points of damage (of 48); -90% Near death
R3 20 hit points of damage (of 48); -20% Injured
RL 25 hit points of damage (of 54); -20% Injured
Brannon 16 hit points of damage (of 66); -10% Dazed

Situational Modifiers: none


Physical Modifiers: none


Initiative:
Strongwind 17
Sho 16
Vistani 13
Brannon 12

May the proud one find his targets well for Sho had his hands full with no quick end in sight. In a flurry of movement he back peddles and brings his staff to parry.
 
Parry 65%

Two more arrows flew past him. He was glad these wolves were poor shots. But anyone could get lucky if he let his guard down. Lightning burst from the sky  to strike among the melee at the campsite. It drew his eyes for a fraction of a second. He needed to finish these archers and find his way into that managerie.

:ooc:Bone Bow 119% attack r4
Arrow 1

Arrow 2 99%

Damage 1

Damage2

:ooc: Just waiting for Phil to get a chance to post then I will move this round on... Carl should be joining soon, too.

Slightly off balance from the bright light coming from this not so defenseless priest next to him, Sho manages to strengthen his grip on his quarterstaff. With a flick of his wrist he sends the quarterstaff spinning in a low arch as it comes around his waist to lash out at these undisciplined dogs.

R5 Quarterstaff 68%


Damage

 :ooc: POW Right in the kisser

:ooc: Sorry for the delay, guys! I SUCK!

Okay, R4 attempts to Dodge Strongwind's attacks:
:00: Dodge 55%



Okay, R5 attempts to Parry Sho's attacks:
:00: Parry 65%

:ooc: R4 takes 15 (17-2 armor) damage from Strongwind and is now Dazed -10%, Sho's attacks is parried.

---

Vistani attack

Rogues attack Strongwind:
:00: Archers 57% (R4 at 47%, R3 at 37%)


Damage if successful




Rogues attack Sho:
:00: Shortswords 68%


Damage if successful



RL needs this round to recover from the lightning strike

:ooc: Again, only Sho needs to Parry.

 :ooc:Sorry I've had some problems with my computer here

Sho beginning to feel more comfortable in his rhythm of the song and dance he now plays, shoots his quarterstaff up in a defensive move.

Parry 65%

:ooc: Sho takes 8 damage  :csu:

And so you know, Phil, this icon :csu: means I updated your character sheet.

---

Exhilarated by the power and presence of his lord, Branon calls to the sky again, "AODHAN! Show these thieves their folly once more for menacing your servant!"

---

Brannon casts Call lightning on the rogue leader - spends 4 MP for a 4d10 charge:
:00: Casting skill 79%

:ooc: OUCH! That was a brutal attack!Three 10's in damage.

---

Not far away, from where Branon stood, Sho saw the priest, his eyes had become alight with flame and his face was a mask of terror for any that may oppose. It made the Yoshiman uneasy and then the sky above roared with light and noise as another bolt came down from the heavans.

The Vistani leader, still stunned from the first attack, was struck once more and he disappeared inside the terrible arc of energy. Seconds later it was gone and the man fell to the ground, his flesh burnt, eyes gone, along with any life. The sky rumbled once more above them and then silenced.

Aodhan had spoken and taken vengeance on those who had disgraced his servant.

The lightning bolts had drawn everyones attention and with the death of the Vistani leader, his followers will to fight was shattered. Those that could turned to run from those whom they attacked, and those that could not fell to their knees in fear.

Sho kept his guard but the two rogues before him were no more threat. The Yoshiman was not all that sure how safe he was when he looked upon the still mad eyes of the priest. Branon strode to the halfling that kneeled before Sho, "My things! Where are they and be quick?!"

With trembling hands, the halfling Vistani pointed to the wagon, "They have been stored within the wain! Please, forgiveness, I beg!"

"You will find the Light of Aodhan shall judge you soon enough!" Branon walked quickly away to find his personals.

 :ooc: Doug did the archers near strongwind surrender or run off or whathaveyou?

:ooc: they are running.

Sho was always curious to the hold possessions had over the spirit of people. With his hands beside him Sho casually bowed never breaking eye contact with the priest. I care not for your things, what is yours please take. My name is Sho soga a Yoshimen a race from Napai. I mean you no harm, and I'm willing to accept judgement for my dishonor. With that Sho went to his knees in a meditative state with his head down and eyes closed, and started to chant a hymm from his forefathers.

:ooc:"Momma said my magic shoes could take me anywhere"

Branon felt the adrenaline subsiding within himself and with it came the shakes. The rage, too, began to ease and he blinked at Sho. He went through his memories of the recent events and had only a vague remembrance of the Yoshiman being present at the Vistan's pilfering of his goods. He recalled the man had stood on the outskirts, while the rogues threatened and stole Branon's items.

"Perhaps judgment was passed and by your efforts in bringing justice to these rogues your debt is paid... only Aodhan knows, for he too bore the affront. He is my patron, but I am disgraced so I cannot assume anymore, or pass judgment of my own, so no dishonor."

That said, the priest went to the wain and dug through the items it contained until at last he came upon his personals. He pulled forth a heavy robe of leather - more of a surcoat - that was well padded and would protect better than his light clothes. He hung a belt at his waist; an amulet of his faith went around his neck; and he slid a slender sword into a scabbard. Once done, he yanked out a small backpack that was full to the top and whose leather flap needed tied down to keep the items contained.

"At long last," he muttered. "Aodhan be praised. Thank thee my lord for thine grace and all-seeing Light to show me the path that led me back to my articles."

Sho overheard the prayer and wondered if it were standard... if so, he thought it very... odd.

Strongwind rode into the clearing just in time to hear the preast praise his lord for bringing him back to his belongings. Seeing the man in the all to familiar trappings he wore made bile rise in his throat. "Thine grace and all-seeing light must shine from Pedowins ass. Was Daqueen who drove the path you followed priest. Have Killed many men dressed like you. Still not even the loss of entire tribe. Hope not have to kill Brannon too." Strongwind dismounted, releasing Pedowin to graze a bit. He walked passed the knealing rouges, paying them little attention. He moved on to the Yoshiman, meeting the strange mans gaze. He even tried a smile but the burns and claw marks on his face made it into more of a sneer.  "Am called Strongwind, well met. Not seen your like before. Home far away?"

:ooc:  this is awesome Doug!

"Come, Daqeen!" said Branon as he hopped from the wagon. "We have but just become traveling companions and now you want to send me off to see my lord! You might be surprised very soon... looking at those staggering figures out in the field, it might be the Light of Aodhan that saves all of our asses."

He gave a laugh and then continued, "Barovia lies in that direction. We might want to see if the town is suffering these undead, as well. Yes?"

Sho replied with a slight bow to Strongwind. Never had he seen a man with such cruel scars as this one. He has read of zealous priests that would scar there bodies in such fashion to invoke the spirit. After a second Sho decided that this man was not in league or of same mind as this charismatic priest, Sho replied. I am Sho Soga a Yoshimen from a place far from here. I have nothing to offer you for my life but If your quest is just I will accompany you. Not waiting for a reply Sho casually walked over and retrieved his quarterstaff.

"Another soul to aid us would not be a bad thing," said Branon. "In any case, we may wish to move soon as to avoid the undead that lurch towards us."

The priest gestured to the fields. There were undead still moving about - some with intent on approaching the Vistani camp, others that seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Branon could count twelve at least that encircled the camp.

Sho gathered his things with a heavy step needing to heal on the journey. A rest he knew would do him good but that time will wait. Not very comfortable in the presence of the priest he gave a wide berth to him. Glancing over at Strongwind he knew he wasn't the only one with reservations about this new companion.

 :ooc:  Is there a fire going doug? also what are the remaining vistani doing atm?

:ooc: There is a fire, and two are grovelling on their knees hoping for release. The women folk are hiding near the wain, and the two archers you were fighting ran off into the fields and now may have to deal with the undead.

 :ooc: Thnks sorry not sure what I want to do here, I will come up with something kool and try to post tonight

Strongwind stared at the strange man as he gathered his things. "Your life is your own. Can come with us, but plan to see this through. Find source of sickness n these parts." Strongwind looked around the clearing soaking in everything. To the remaining Vistani he growled "Can take your wain, n womenfolk, can go, or can stay. I mean to use your fire, then be gone with my-" He paused, his eyes agin finding the strange yoshiman and then the priest in  turn. "Companions" He let a click click roll off his tongue to get Pedowins attention.  He rifled through his saddlebag for his pigments, a wrapped piece of animal fat, and a bowl and pestle. He then went to the fire to mix a paint so blue it was almost black.


:ooc: Not sure how dangerous the clearing is depending on the undead and how far away they are but hes adamant about painting his horse and his face before the mission moves on so if i have to stop to defend the clearing with my bow i will. otherwise he'll heat the fat for the grease and mix his paints and let it kool a bit doug, paint one big line across his forehead and two small under his eyes and a thumbprint on his chin and also apply 5 blue palmprints to pedowins flanks

While the animal fat began to melt down over the fire, the Vistani quickly collected what items that Sho and Branon would allow them and then rode off in their wagon. It had a dual effect - first the rogues were now out of the companions' hair, and second, it drew the few walking dead away from the encampment. Still, some lumbered about on the outer peripheree of the field and so the men took great caution. It was Branon who broke the silence while Strongwind painted his face.

"Have you noticed these things? They seem different then most undead I have seen... well, as zombies go. Not only do they show the rot of their state, but there is a putrid pestilence about their mouth and nails. I fear that these mosters harbor more threat to us than just death." He poked a stick in the fire. "Even if they do not kill us, they may still be a danger from scratch or bite."

Strongwind stood and patted his handprints on Pedowin's hind end and then he was done. He was ready. The Daqeen's next goal was Barovia and so he mounted up and began to ride in that direction. Strongwind assumed that if they were interested in coming, they would follow.

He was right.

Mist blanketed the village, smothering the streets and marooning the buildings, forming an archipelago of crumbling masonry in a gray, hopeless sea.

At the village's lonely edge, muddy ground underfoot gave way to slick wet cobblestones. A dilapidated wooden sign read "Welcome to the Village of Barovia." The tall shapes in the dense fog resolved themselves into tenements whose windows were boarded, broken and lightless. Nothing moved nearby, though their view was limited by the mist. Faint sounds, as of something groaning, echoed hollowly from somewhere deeper within the settlement.

Now that the abandoned structures were in view, the companions could see that many were burnt-out hulks. The smell of burnt wood was thick in the air, but still it could not overpower the underlying, sickly sweet smell of carrion and spoilage. Claw marks raked some of the vacant homes, ominous not merely because of their presence, but for the five-fingered, hand-like shapes they suggested.

As they continued further into the village, they saw buildings that survived. Doors were barricaded with tables, broken carts, and smashed furnishings. Nothing living stirred.

A sudden breeze blew across them and momentarily cleared the fog before them. Down the road, a large make-shift barricade was easily visible that was constructed across the street from building to building. Pedowin whickered with nervousness as the horse sensed death around it. Death that still shambled with hunger, raw and unstoppable. It stalked the village, multiplying with each new corpse that kicked and suddered its way back toward un-life. A hunger that could never be slaked.

"We must quickly make for the barricade!" said Branon. "If there are any that still live here, they must be within... though I know not why any would wish to stay!"

Kerth Chardisir stared from the barricade wall that encircled the better part of the village of Barovia. He plucked at one of the strings on his lute and thought about words that might fit well in his current piece. It was a dirge - a song about the death and final resting of the very town in which he sat. He thought of the place as already being a carcass and now the scavangers came to shred whatever worth it had left.

He was a half-elf from the Narthruil Forest, but that was long ago. A life ago, he thought. Now the bard roamed the many realms of Aerth searching for... he was not sure. The call of the Dark Fortress had been strong and he had found himself before its very gates not long ago, and from its doors he began a search. The search had led him north but then the trail he followed had gone cold, and now he found himself a captive within this dying town.

Again... that was long ago.

He reached up to his low string's tuning peg and gave it a turn. When he glanced at the peg, movement caught his eye. He sat up and looked out through the fog expecting to see more of the walking dead, but it wasn't. Beyond the wall were three travelers, one atop a horse.

Outside the wall, with Branon's words, new sounds began to be heard - shuffles, grunts and wet chomping of teeth.

---

:ooc: Hey Carl, I accidentally deleted your character history so if you could send it again or add it to your Character sheet. If anything is wrong in my character intro above, we can adjust the storyline.

:ooc: Let me know if this game is still active... I know Rob's dad just passed and I am not rushing anyone. Just want to know if I still need to be working on story content.

Thanks.

 :ooc: I still wanna play sir :) just have been super busy and what with phils dad passing away and waiting for carl to jump in. I will contact these individuals and see about continuance of said gaming

Until the 3 riders appeared Kerth had perhaps thought that his direction these last months had been meaningless, but as he watched the approaching figures seem to gather form as if by magic throught the thick fog he felt something, if only an instinct, that let him believe that at least in this moment he was meant to be here. He heard the groans and wet smackings of the dead as they tried to hone in on the living figures and thought that there must be something he could do. He felt panic for the figures to find their way to safety, but he also in some strange way, empathized with the dead stalking them and knew somewhat of their need, their compulsion, that drove them.

At that point Kerth could only do what he did best and that was to play; maybe it would distract the dead, maybe it would help guide the living in to the gates of the town, or maybe it would simply be just one of a thousand scraps of music that might become part of an epic.

:ooc: Perform Lute 45%+20%=65% = total 20

Kerth began to play flawlessly. Though he was by no means a master of the istrument he played with inpsiration that came from somewhere inside him as he put together chords and lines of notes that he hadn't tempted before and the sound was eerie and soulfull and uptempo, hoping to catch the attention of the riders or distract the dead around them. Something about the sound stuck with Kerth and he knew this would be a piece he would turn to time and again until perfected. Maybe a theme of sorts.

He played and watched the riders move forward through the mist...

:ooc: Hey Carl! Welcome to the game! I made a couple changes to give you the look you wanted (I think  ;) ).

Also, your Perform skill is a 45% + your 20% mod for 65%...

anyway, the story continues...

---

From their position amongst the fog enshrouded ruins, the companions began to hear the sound of a lute playing. It was strange but seemed to draw at them and the mists before them diminished. The path to the barricade was now clear and the trio could see the road was littered with remains of animals and people. Awful looking maggots dug into the carcass of a dog, stripping putrid flesh from bone in mere moments. The dire insect larvae were all about the dead thing like rice thrown at a wedding ceremony and Sho cringed to see the things begin to move on to a new corpse - some even began to wriggle in their direction. That was when the slobbery breathing was heard.

Branon looked to his right to see an animal - a dog for certain. It was skinless now and its torn flesh was a smear of pink and red. The skull was eyeless, but its torn nose sucked at the air with a horrible wet sound. All the while, its ravaged tongue licked over its teeth. The thing was only a dozen feet from them and it was drawn by their scent of living blood. Suddenly another appeared behind it... then another.

To Sho's left, a creak of wood drew his attention from the insects and he saw what had once been a blacksmith, for it still wore the heavy leather apron. In its hand hanging loose was a metal hammer. The dead corpse walked along the wooden porch of a ruined house, its blue-gray skin loose on its face creating meaty jowls. The Yoshiman saw the mold growth around its mouth and thought it more sinister than the undead shamble. Sho wondered at what had caused the nasty infection to grow and what it could do to them if they were bitten. The zombie saw the companions and began to move at a much greater pace. Behind it, a small, naked undead child crab-walked on all fours. Its dead eyes looked in their direction and then it grinned.

Branon was suddenly very afraid.

---

:ooc: I will wait to see if you guys engage, or run - if the former then I will start combat rounds. If the latter, it will be a test of speeds to see if the undead can engage you before you mount the barricade.

Carl, understand that Kerth knows something about the undead sickness that the townsfolk have been talking about, and just cause someone is not undead doesn't mean they are not carrying the blasphemic sickness - so, he may challenge their entry to the town.

:ooc: I need Strongwind and Sho to roll me a terror roll. What that is is a test against your PC's Willpower to overcome fear.

I need you to roll your ESS x 4 or less. If failed, consult the chart below:

Failed by:	Result:
0-10%	Suffer a -5% to all actions until the source of fear is gone, or end of encounter
11-20%	Suffer a -15% to all actions until the source of fear is gone, or end of encounter
21-30%	Suffer a -25% to all actions until the source of fear is gone, or end of encounter
31-40%	Suffer a -40% to all actions until the source of fear is gone, or end of encounter
41-50%	Suffer a -50% to all actions until the source of fear is gone, or end of encounter
Fumbled	Panic and run to any location to get away, if cannot run, the PC cowers

Branon's Fear test:
:00: Willpower roll = 17x5% = 85%

:ooc: Branon will suffer a -5% to all actions while the encounter or source of fear (undead creatures and vermin) lasts

 :ooc: yay carls here :) will post shortly

 :ooc: Will make strongwinds fear check first then post accordingly

:00: Willpower 16x4 64%

The sound of the lute seemed to chase the mists from the street, leaving a nightmare in their wake. Strongwind let out hiss, and Pedowin halted her forward movement, immediately tensing for combat. His bow was in his hands in a blink. "Abominates, is that the word priest? Do they frighten you? Daqueen have name for walking dead. "Bequdon" Means spiritless, or wrong in spirit. Guess not matter. We must clean these from the path. And find source of this madness." Strongwind knocked a red arrow and click-clicked. Pedowin began a slow walk toward the barricade.

:ooc:  :00: Bone bow 119% attack on ZC
Arrow one
Damage if successful

Arrow two 99% attack on ZB

Damage if successful

:ooc: I need Strongwind to make a Ride skill check at half your normal rank, due to Pedowin beginning to panic.

Branon will attempt to Command Undead ESS:ESS
:00: Essence of 14 versus 11 (zombies) and 12 (carcass eaters - undead dogs)

As Kerth played, the mist seemed to roll away with the notes of the tune and the horrid images along the route to the town showed themselves, as did the images of the approaching figures. Kerth had seen what the sickness could do, but the experience became no less easier with successive viewings. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him and his playing momentarily stopped. He was half Fey, and it was that half that was betraying him now as inherant repulsion for the bloated carrion below interfered with his fingers. The presence of undead touched the elves deeper - but Kerth was sure HE felt something else as well as if his soul had touched that realm and part of it remained there.

He let his arms drop the lute from its playing position against his chest, and he slid it to his back on its strap. It occurred to him that he did not know these strangers, but there was something about one of them that made him set aside some of the fears he might normally have. It was the one in front - something about him...

Still, in prudence, Kerth had to be sure they were not carriers and so casually brought his bow around to replace the lute, almost in a seamless motion. He watched as the strangers checked up in fear and revulsion from what they saw among the ravaged corpses. One was obviously taken aback more than the others. Kerth brought a arrow to knock against the string of his bow, but kept the weapon low behind the barricade wall.

He called down to the approaching party: "Riders below!" he shouted, "How do you fair? I have my bow ready to help or hinder depending on your disposition! Are you sick or wounded in any way?"

:ooc: I am a little rusty guys - pardon me if I am like Chris Walken who doesn't really seem to realize he is in a movie to react with other people. Stick with me, I will get back in the swing shortly! :-[ Doug, thank you for the character help and prompt on the game!

Branon stepped forward as the undead moved to engage the companions. Strongwind acted first, putting an arrow in the skulls of both the zombie child and smith. The arrows crushed into what life force the things had and severed it - both fell where they stood.

The cleric also had an affect as he held aloft the holy sigil of Aodhan that he had retrieved from the Vistani wagon. The light seemed to break through the gray mists and the silver amulet shone rousing Branon's courage. "Be gone foul creatures," he hissed. There was a whine from the carcass eaters - the undead dogs - and they turned about unsure of making an approach. "BE GONE," the cleric demanded and the creatures scurried off with a yelp.

Sho breathed a sigh of relief, but then they all became a where of a steady moan, coming from many bodies. Strongwind urged Pedowin forward a few steps only to see that there were more undead... many more undead. They had been made aware of the living trio and now a large pack of shambling death moved towards them in multiple directions.

For Kerth, it was like watching a dam beginning to break. The bard knew that the three men would soon draw the undead into a group and make them frenzied. That was a threat to the barricade and to those still living within. The three strangers either needed to hurry to the wall, or be gone. The horse was done for, no matter what.

---

:ooc: Strongwind cannot see more than a shambling gray in the mists, but there is a tremor in the air as if something is gathering and moving towards them.

:ooc: No problem Carl! You are doing great. And please be patient with me as you may see me tweak the game mechanics as we play. I like d100, but I have been introduced to some very cool wound and weariness mechanics, along with casting systems.

So, you see that my PC sheet online doesn't reflect our normal PC sheet, but that is because I may be re-constructing things. But, this will not interfere in character play - hopefully I will make it better. Just do what you normally know to do, but I change something I will let you know.

The first change is hit points... which are now calculated as such Physique plus Strength mod. This is then divided by two to give you the number of hit points you have in each wound level. So, for your PC, you have 8 in Healthy, Dazed, Injured, Wounded Incapacitated, Near death for a total of 48.

With each level that you are reduced by damage, you suffer those wound penalties until healed.

Posting info -

I always post bad guy game mechanics (actions) in Red, and PC actions in Navy. Out of character stuff I put in maroon. This is my standard so I know what I am looking at if I do a quick scroll down a page.

Have questions, comments, or suggestions, let me know, please!  ;)

 :ooc:  Strongwind ride 94%@1\2 =47%

Strongwind knew they were in trouble. But found little fear in his heart. Perhaps today he would go back to the mud to be with his people. Regardless he would fight all the way. " Hail the barricade. We fair well. We seek to help. And seek help in turn." He turned to his companions on foot. "You must run to barricade. Go."

:ooc: going to wait for Carl here.

From his post on the wall Kerth could not see exact details of the men approaching, but his instinct told him that they were perhaps worth the risk that they were not infected. The one on horseback had replied heartily, so Kerth brought his bow up to bare on the closest shambling dead to figure on foot.

:ooc:Doug, I would like to try a shot at the nearest dead to the person on foot (Padowin).

:00:Self Bow 58%
Roll(1d100)+0:
28,+0
Total:28

Hit Damage = 1D8+1+1D4
Roll(1d4)+0:
2,+0
Total:2

Roll(1d8)+1:
7,+1
Total:8

Total 10 Damage

Kerth's arrow flew from his bow and struck true, but the undead man continued to walk towards the trio.

Branon looked at Strongwind, "Daqeen, you will never survive this. They come... look!" He pointed to a side street where shapes were lumbering in the fog. Amongst the shadows of the buildings, more undead carcass eaters scurried. The cleric had sent some running, and perhaps the aura of Aodhan would still be on him and keep the undead at a distance, but he could not be sure. The gathering horde would overwhelm them soon. "Strongwind, if you do not come with us, you may not see it through. What good is your death at the hands of these things? What is worse, what if their abhorrent touch gives you unlife? Certainly you have no desire to walk this world in that state? We must make for the wall!"

Sho had not waited. He was already running towards the wall.

---

:ooc: John, if you do not ride towards the wall now, you will be cut off outside the barricades and in the fog. Your horse will not make it over the barricade, so you need to decide if you will fight for it.

Let me know if Phil is still interested in playing. If so, I will play his PC until he is ready, otherwise Sho may not make the wall.  >:D

 :ooc: He couldnt possibly abandon Pedowin here doug

Strongwind snarled at the priest. "Do as told priest.Will never get horse over barricade. Will retreat and find safe place. Return on foot." 

Kerth watched the robed monk run toward the wall, but was stunned to see that the one on horseback was actually NOT moving toward the safety of the town. Who is this fool?

He knocked another arrow and brought it to bear on the same shambling corpse he had hit before, only this time he tried to focus his concentration on hitting the head rather than the whole creature. It was moderately hard to do as a tune he had yet to write began to form itself in his mind.

A part of him wished that in this instance he had learned more skill at the bow string than the lute string.

"Hurry all!" he shouted. "I hope that you will live to learn that I no great shot and cannot help as much as perhaps you would like!"

He aimed the shot carefully and let the arrow fly toward the creatures head.

:00: Called shot at 30% skill = 15%

Roll(1d100)+0:
3,+0
Total:3

:ooc: Critical head shot! I swear to God the dice roller gave me that one.

:ooc: LOL! Hey Carl! The boards causing you a hard time?

:ooc: A couple things to help you with your posting and dice rolling.  (-D

First, your OOC marker is not working because you need to have a space between the :00C: and the the next word. Same with the Dice icon.

As for your attack, I totally believe you and Congratulations! Just so you know, if you use the in-post dice roller, you cannot go back into the thread and make any edits. Otherwise it comes up with the tampered with icons.

Also, I forgot give you some pc updates. You may increase any 5 skills by 25%, and any 3 by 35%, but no skill may be repeated. I will also be giving you a few items of value, but I need to think on them a bit.

The arrow from Kerth's bow struck the undead man between the base of the skull and the neck. The accuracy of the shot amazed the Elf, and it severed the spinal cordof the undead monster. It immediately fell limply to the ground only to be replaced by another. The zombies were now coming from out of the fog in all directions, filling the side streets as they milled onto the main throughfare. Sho was already racing to the barricade while Branon still looked pleadingly at Strongwind. But with the Daqeen's snarled reply, he resigned to run to the barricade himself. The priest, still graced by the Light of Aodhan was like a hot knife cutting into a scoop of lard. The undead creatures hesitated or stepped back as Branon ran by.

Strongwind could see that the undead creatures were coming from all directions. His only hope now was to make the dash for the barricade, or return the way they came. He would not abandon Pedowin to these things and so chose the latter. He kicked his heels to the horse's hindquarters and they ran. Like a shot in the fog, a pack of carcass eaters gave chase. Strongwind heard his horse cry in literal fear as the undead dogs closed in and began to leap at Pedowin's haunches.

Behind Strongwind, the undead watched the man and horse leave and some, too, gave chase, but the better part of the horde turned in the direction of Branon and Sho... and the barricade. Kerth saw the wave of undead now readying to approach and he wondered if the makeshift barricade would hold again.

---

:ooc: Okay John, you are riding out of the area, back the way you came. There are a total of seven of the carcass eaters (undead dogs) running behind you. I am going to make an opposed Run test between Pedowin and the dogs to see if the undead can catch up, but it will have to wait until tomorrow for that.

:ooc: Sorry for the delay guys - been a bit busy and then had the holiday weekend.

The Run test will be a Agility:Agility test. If they win, Strongwind may be attacked. If attacked, Strongwind can use his attack to spur Pedowin on to get away again. If unsuccessful, again the undead dogs can attack. And so it will continue, but understand that each time Pedowin is urged on, the horse's agility score will reduced by 2.

Carcass eaters Agility 15
Pedowin's Agility 16

:00: Carcass eaters have a 45% chance to catch and engage the horse and rider

Kerth saw the man that was clearly a priest reach the barricade unscathed by the undead that now surged in. In fact, the zombies seem to hesitate to attack Branon, though they no longer fled at the sight of him. The priest pulled himself up on the pile of wood, broken wagons and furniture, holding an hand out to Kerth, as he did. "HELP ME!" he shouted.

Behind them, Sho also had run towards the wall, but was now cut off. The Yoshiman swung his quarterstaff and split the skull of an undead woman before him, her mottled torso was bare and the flesh that was once her breasts hung torn from her chest. No sooner did the undead woman fall then another creature took her place. Sho made good of this one, too, but it was evident that he would soon be outnumbered and worn down. He was a mere five yards from the wall!

---

:ooc: Let me know if Phil is going to come back - otherwise Sho will fall to the tide of undead.

 :ooc: phil says you can kill him buddy :(

Pedowin ran hard. Strongwind could feel the terror within the animal and heard it breathing heavy. He did not try to slow his mount, knowing that its own survival instincts had kicked in and Pedowin would not stop until it felt safe. The Daqeen just held on a let the horse take him out of the village and deeper into the mists.

The undead creatures were far behind now, unable to keep up with the Nestar Plains horse. Strongwind became concerned as the panic resided and fear of his horse harming itself in the fog took the fore. He spoke softly to Pedowin and slowly reined it in, until at last the horse was at a trot, then a walk. It's lungs were active under his saddle and he continued to sooth him, all the while listening for any sound in the mists that might be danger.

Strongwind estimated that the horse had run just under a mile and knew he would need to back track on foot, if he were to go back to Barovia and help his friends. He hoped that they were well and had made the barricade. With Pedowin now calm, Strongwind dismounted and once more listened to the stillness. There was nothing.

He began to take from his horse all the things he might need.

---

:ooc: Let me know, John, if it is still your plan to return to Barovia and leave your horse behind.

 :ooc: yeah I will find a safe place to leave pedowin in as safe a place as possible. Not sure whether to tie him up or let him roam free so can haul ass from danger, and then how do I locate it once im done, but he will return on foot. I'll try to get it posted tonight after work, deciding what to do

Strongwind gathered his gear. Taking all his weapons, his pack, a blanket roll and what little foodstuffs he had. He looked Pedowin in the eyes. "May not return. You must run from danger old friend. If live will find you. Grass here. And last of feed for you. Dont eat all at once." Pedowin was his oldest living friend and he hated to leave him. The horses of the nestar plains were a smart breed. This one was a good example. He followed direction well and Strongwind had felt more than once that Pedowin somehow knew his thoughts. He set the feedbag on the grass opening the flaps and folding them back. "Not want to leave you. Must go old friend. Stop darkness." He took a moment to rub his flanks and scratch under his chin. In parting he pressed his forhead to Pedowins. Eyes meeting he hoped not for the last time. In his voice he used to command the horse he clicked twice. "Stay close." Pointing at the ground." Run from danger."  He turned away and headed back toward  Barovia. 

Kerth saw that the monk was to be overrun by the undead and felt a turning in his stomach that was more a recognition of what the man would face beyond life rather than a twinge of sadness or emotion. At the priest's shout for help he turned away from the monk and left him to his fate.

He slung his bow onto his back and reached out a hand from the makeshift barricade toward the priest. "Take my hand, sir," he said. "It seems your friends shall not be as fortunate!"

Kerth took the man's outstretched hand and began to pull him up the makeshift wall.

:ooc: Sorry I have been out for a bit guys - I had to move and the UVerse guy just hooked me up Friday. Thank you for the tips Doug - I suck at this newfangled web stuff.  :-[  I am also sad to see Phil not participate further.  :(

Kerth hauled Branon up to the top of the barricade as the undead closed in the area where he had stood. All along the wall, the townsfolk of Barovia had marshalled and were now standing there with long polearms to shove the creatures back. Some came, too, with bottles of alcohol that had long, wet, strips of cloth within the necks. The wicks were lit and the bottles tossed out into the crowd of zombies where they burst and created a conflagaration of burning flesh. The undead creatures with no recognition of pain, burned and bumped into each other and slowly the fires spread. The men with polearms kept the burning zombies away from the wall and slowly the piles of newly dead became a burning barrier to the barricade itself.

The smell was atrocious.

Branon and Kerth stood and watched as the zombies began to thin out - the creatures realizing that no food was present. The priest looked to see where Sho had once stood and now only saw his torn robe, and his staff. He sighed, and then looked further beyond wondering if his other companion had gotten away. Finally, he turned to the Elf who had saved him, "Good day Sir Elf! May Aodhan bless this meeting, for certainly it was fortunate that you were here!"

Pedowin seemed to understand the Daqeen. The horse clopped at the ground and watched as Strongwind walked away. It gave a high whinny and the man turned back to see his horse nod its head up and down a few times, and then it turned and walked towards the open fields and forest beyond.

---

:ooc: I am going to start a new thread, but if you want to add anymore here, you may. John, I am not going to RP Strongwind's trip back into Barovia, just going to add colorful narrative in the new thread.

"By Aodhan's light!" exclaimed Branon when he saw Strongwind appear amongst the townsfolk of Barovia. 'You made it!"

The priest had been saved by Kerth not two days past, and had spent the time getting to know his elven savior. He also had spent time with the other folk within the barricade - all of which had the mindset that they were not going to give up their town. In the tavern, with food and spirits running low, the people gathered nightly to chase away the evil tidings with what songs they could muster. All the while, men and women watched the barricades to ascertain that no undead were undermining the walls.

Branon had met the constable - son of the burgomaster, who was said to be laid up in his mansion on the south side of the town. It was not known what sickness had overwhelmed the town's leader, only that all of the folk suspected he was still alive, guarded by his daughter. The priest had also been told that the undead plague had started the previous Spring, and some believed it was after the town's pastor's son had taken ill. The boy had become sick and had deteriorated rapidly and some of the townsfolk spoke of dark promises made by the pastor to save his son. The church was on the northside of the town, and it too was outside the barricade.

Strongwind saw the priest and nodded. He was haggard looking and he smelled of offal, but why it was so, he would not speak. The Daqeen had spent the last two days traveling back into Barovia and the things he saw would haunt him for a good while. He had lived to see his people destroyed by the very priests with whom he now allied. He had ridden with Tarkus Haas - the last Rider of the Pale - and the two had seen many horrors in their travels. Strongwind had been to the very gates of darkness - the fortress of Darkhold - but still he had not been witness to the same horrors as those in Barovia. Children, women, men and animals all, had become the play things of the undead, only to join their ranks if enough of the bodies had been left. The Daqeen would not relay what he saw for fear of making the images more permanent, but he now went with the belief that the whole town needed to be burnt from the face of the Earth.

Seeing that Strongwind was none to talkative, Branon started conversation of his own. "This is Kerth," he said as he pointed to the Elf. "Unfortunately, our friend from Yoshima did not make it."

Strongwind did not answer that he was already aware of that fact - he had seen Sho walking aimlessly down a foggy street. The Yoshiman's throat had been destroyed by claws and teeth, ravaged to the point where his head was still held on by loose muscle tissue and the unholy energy that animated these corpses.

Branon continued, "I have found out much more while I awaited your arrival, but I will wait to tell you until you have had a chance to rest and clean up."

Strongwind offered a hand to Kerth. "Well met Kerth, the music and arrows from the mists. Many thanks." Strongwind eyes tried to hide the horrors playing over and over in his mind. "Need rest. Food. Then give what help i can."

:ooc: Wanna get a bit of back and forth character interaction between Kerth and the new PC's before I move this on.

Inthe days that had passed with the priest, Kerth spent them half listening to conversation and half participating in day to day menial tasks once he discovered that Brannon's companion who had chosen to ride away rather than make for the wall was none other than Strongwind, one of The 13 - companion to Tarkas Haas. He had listened to the priest's tales and in some way it helped him understand the rider Haas as they both served Aodhan, and perhaps Brannon had a small part to be sung as he was now part of Strongwind's song. He had spent his time in giddy excitement and distraction, but also trepitdation that the Daqueen would not make it back to Borovia. Kerth was sure that Fate or some other force had brought them together and was convinced now he would complete The Song. Perhaps Strongwind could even bring Kerth face to face with Haas and more of the riders against The Black Keep.

When Kerth saw the figure approaching he was transfixed and knew it was Strongwind before Brannon even introduced him. Chords ran through his head as clear as if he had played them. E flat, A flat, B flat, and C minor - that was the progression that would define the Daqueen's part in the Epic.

Kerth nearly stumbled on his words but managed to say - "Well met indeed, Strongwind. You are legend, and like your time with Haas, consider me to ride with you. I offer words, music, and the occasional bow in exchange for your tales!"

Strongwind tried to find a smile for the elf but his heart was weighed down by his walk back to Barovia. " Welcome to join me Kerth. My path is danger and death and little reward.  Dark days apon me again. But i am Daqueen. Will push on. Find the source of this darkness, and crush it. You spoke of the Haas, You know him?"

:ooc: Carl, did you get my message about advancing your PC? Let me know if you did and if so, if you have made the changes. Also, I will be giving you some itmes of value shortly... need to think about it a bit and see what your PC is about based on your posts (i.e. what kind of treasures would Kerth have and keep).

"I know not 'The Haas' in person, only his part in the Black Keep and his tales that have come to me through song," Kerth replied. This plainsman was much more than he had imagined, and his part would be more complicated to sing than he first thought. He could sense the arrow straight determination and unwavering courage from the man almost as a parallel to the unwavering determination he felt eminating from the dead since his arrival. There was a connection, an empathy, that he felt in their presence that Kerth couldn't explain, yet nagged at him like a fleeting thought he needed to remember but lay just outside his mind's eye.

"I do also know that your path is dangerous, Strongwind, yet still my tale must now intertwine with yours." Kerth gave a slight bow of the waist, and a returning thin smile. "Perhaps there is a place for me in the Song I must sing as well." Kerth liked this Daqueen, and tried to imagine the rythym that he would use in telling his tales - simple, tribal beats over a stacatto picking of the strings instead of strumming. It was that back rythym that would lay the groundwork from which he could weave a spell that might musically enthrall the masses. Maybe he would play it fromt the top of the keep itself!

But he was allowing himself to daydream and had to return to the moment at hand.

"I also know not of this darkness's source but I am sure with your determination we shall find out!" Kerth put a hand on Stronwind's shoulder. "Come, let us fill your stomach with good drink and food. Perhaps that is all the reward anyone really needs - I should know as it has been my sole reward for song many, many times!"

Strongwind was not sure if the word 'good' could be used to describe the fare that was available within the barricaded town. Kerth had led Branon and the Daqeen into one of Barovia's small inns and though it appeared that business was as usual, it was not reflected in what the innkeep had to offer. Food stores were almost empty and there were few gardens being tended within the town; livestock, too, had been abated down to the minimum and so fresh meat was in very short supply; and lastly, there were only two kegs of ale left for the pouring.

The daqeen warrior realized that the folks sitting around the room were there out of habit, normalcy, and camaraderie. The men were able to leave the outside world for just a while even though there was little offered. Still, Kerth took the two companions to a table to sit and a woman approached, "Not much to offer... but you're welcome to ask."

Around them, the folks murmurred to themselves and gave Kerth and his companions only the odd look. There was one amongst them all that Kerth gestured to and informed Strongwind and Branon that he was the burgomaster's son, Ismark - the only leader these people had. At least until it could be verified whether Barovia's Burgomaster still lived.

Strongwind wondered why these people thought their was a chance their elected leader had survived. If he wasnt with the living he had fled or was with the dead. Either option made him unfit to lead in his opinion."Pleased to meet Ismark. Am called Strongwind." He turned to the woman. "Whatever can offer Lady. Any hot food or broth. Not picky. Water can drink unless soured by the walking dead. Have heard this thing before."

"I will bring what I can," answered the woman who immediately made her way from the table towards a door that led to the kitchen.

The man named Ismark had heard Strongwind's greeting and nodded, but then he rose and walked over towards the trio. The rest of the room hushed as they watched their leader's son, wondering what was going on. Ismark spoke, "You are the new arrivals that I had heard spoken of. You braved the surrounds and the town itself to get within our barricades... why? Why have you come when there is nothing here but death? What does the surrounding land tell? Is this plague of undead spread wide, or is it centered here?" He looked at the priest, "In what ways have we offended the gods that they would wish our town's existence removed from the map? These are good people. Strong. Even now the bulk of them stay to defend what is theirs. Why have we been forsaken?"

Branon looked first at Kerth and Strongwind, and then to Ismark. He cleared his throat, "Mmm... well... I do not know. The plague of undead is definitely centered around Barovia. But what sins were committed to bring this down upon such good folk, only you could know. Aodhan offers the True Path and his Light is the way, but only to those who accept it... hence he will offer nothing to aid you..."

The priest's words were cut off as the folk around the room began to murmur and curse -

"Damn the gods!"
"Curse them! They brought this down on us!"
"Do not say such things! We have lost our way!"
"Pshhh!"
"Ismark, you know what to do!"
"It comes from the tower! It comes from Castle Barin-Fel!"
"Wrong, it comes from our own pastor who now only administers to his abomination of a son!"
"Yea! The curse came upon us when that boy was run over by the ox cart."

Ismark held up his hands and the chamber quieted once more, "Why have you come Strongwind? Priest?" He even looked to Kerth, "Why are you here, Elf?"

Strongwind cleared his throat. Dry as it was his voice still sounded like pebbles rattling in a washpan. "I would help. Have seen this kind of darkness before. Must find source. Destroy it. Burn the walking dead. Destroy their heads. Any who sickness has takin hold of. A quick death and fire is the answer." He looked around at the frightened townsfolk. "I beleive you are strong. For you did not flee. Brave to struggle for life in this place of Bequdon." His eyes found Branons briefly and he sent a silent prayer to his ancestors that another Litany of the light shining from Aodhans ass was not forthcoming. "I beleive the priest and Kerth will help me in this. But can speak now for selves."

Branon nodded, "Yes, it is my intent and perhaps even my salvation to assist the Daqeen with his errand. We have come to help you folk and so, by doing, perhaps I will once more be graced by my Lord." He looked at Ismark, "I heard someone say that the pastor of your town is still present, and that he serves now by only ministering to his own son? To whom does your temple serve?"

"Our church is the house of Larama," answered one of the patrons.

"Oh..." replied Branon. Strongwind was not sure but he thought he saw humor alight the priest's face. Branon continued, "Why does he minister only to his son?"

Ismark answered, "Almost a year past, the boy strayed into the street and was run over by an ox cart. The boy is only that in mind, though his body has aged over 22 winters. The simpleton did not pay attention and the driver of the ox cart could not stop his animals in time - and we know how slow an ox will move! Anyway, the boy was tripped and the wheels rolled over him. It was said that his neck was broken, and that he should have died, but he has been seen lumbering around the churchyard."

"But only briefly!" called out another patron. "The pastor is always quick to bring him back in the church."

Another spoke, "It has been since that boy was hurt that our pastor has had a gathering for worship. I believe it is Larama that has brought down this curse upon us, for we no longer pay homage."

An old man with cataracts whiting out his eyes stood up blindly, "Larama cares no deal for this town! It is the hellish lord that resides in the old castle that looms over us like a gargoyle that does this to us! You want salvation? You'll only find it there."

Ismark raised his hands, "Quiet... please. How can you help us, Daqeen? I can see that you are a warrior. Certainly braver and more sure than most here, but what can you do?"

"I am no great force Ismark. Ive no great magics." Strongwinds eyes found Ismarks. His intense gaze did not waver. "Ive some skill with bow and blade. Have no grave powers, but lack emotion that keeps you behind barricades. Am Daqeen. Was not born with fear. I will go to this church. Or to this lords keep. Seek salvation." Strongwinds thirst was getting the better of him. He looked around the room for the serving woman. Clearing his throat again to make his point. 

There was a positive murmur that ran through the room when Strongwind spoke of investigating the church. He was not surprised when a mug was set before him and his companions filled with some freshly tapped ale. "Finest in the house," winked the woman then she walked away.

Ismark nodded, "It would be a great priveledge to have these things done." He looked around somewhat loathingly to his neighbors, "I will join you in this. Now that I have men of stout heart, I will cross the barricade to see if my father and sister live." He yelled over his shoulder, "Woman! Bring more food for these good men... real food!"

The conversation in the room rose to a small roar, due to the elation of mood. Young children ran out of the inn to spread the word in Barovia that heroes had come to save them.

:ooc: Hey John, Carl has fallen from the game due to loss of his PC. Let me know if you still want to continue with Strongwind and Branon.

The day passed and Strongwind and Branon were given a heroes welcome. Food that had been stored, or hidden, was brought forth and prepared for the two men, while discussion went on about how they might best make the run to the Burgomaster's home. Strongwind had walked the outside streets of Barovia and so knew what it would take to evade the undead - still he thought having Branon along with his little trinkets would make things easier.

The dinner was good - not too great, as most of the food was dried, jarred, or stale. - but edible. Strongwind appreciated the people that extended this commodity to him. It was truly gold in this dying town. Next, rooms were prepared and the two took the opportunity to get good rest before they would leave in the morning. Ismark would be joining them, but no others. Strongwind was sure that would be enough - too many people would bring the undead on them.

There was no sunshine with the coming of dawn. The town was still draped in the oppressive mist. Branon wrapped his cloak tighter about him but it was damp and did little to stave off the chill. He sighed, "If but a glimmer of Aodhan's Light could shine here, it would warm the soul."

Ismark led them to the south side of town and they mounted the large pile of debris that was the barricade. They had to move carefully, for the boards, tables, carts, and what not would shift under their weight with each step. A broken leg would put an end to the mission, and falling on one of the staves of wood could put an end to their lives.

---

:ooc: I am going to perform a Balance test here for all of the PC's, just to make sure that no one kills themselves. I will determine ill effects based on the degree of failure, if failed.

:00: Ismark Balance 48%


:00: Branon Balance 52%


:00: Strongwind Balance 30%

Branon carefully ascended the barricade, only to bring himself safely down on the other side. For Strongwind and Ismark, it was not so good. The Barovian went first, up the side of the pile of debris, with Strongwind following him and  matching his steps. It was on their descent that the beam on which Ismark stood pitched up, throwing him off balance. Strongwind who shared the step was also thrown forward and he fell into Ismark. The two clattered to the ground with a terrible noise. Branon, startled by it all, turned in fear afraid that one of his new companions would be skewered upon the barricade. Fortunately, both men were rolling on the ground alive, though bruised and scraped, but Strongwind had a terrible gash along his calf. The blood oozed out quickly soddening his leggings - though unperceived by the men, the scent of fresh blood filling the air.

In the early morning, a large wild boar had wandered into the confines of Barovia's abandoned streets and soon found itself unable to leave. A pack of ghouls had set upon the beast and were now rending it to pieces and feasting on the offal that was yanked from its carcass. The blood-soaked leader of the pack lifted its head into the gray mist - it had heard something. A loud noise had come from up the street where the smell of food was so very strong. On all fours, the once human being climbed over the corpse and its companions and craned its ear to listen. It then snorfed at the air, sucking in bits of ruined flesh into its nose, but still it recognized the scent. There was fresh blood nearby!

A guttural growl escaped its throat and three other companions lifted their heads from the waste that once was the boar. Like a pack of wolves, they moved into the mist.

---

:ooc: I will get you more here, John, but you may interject some RP if you want. For now I am going to lunch.

 :ooc: Ouch :)

Branon moved over to where Strongwind stood and looked at the wound. "I can aid you, Daqeen, but you must be willing to allow the Light of Aodhan to heal you? Do you wish to be bathed in his glory and feel his healing touch?"

Ismark looked around at the mist, "Well whatever you plan on doing, I suggest we do it fast. The longer the scent of blood is in the air, the worse off we will be."

The ghoul pack moved towards the trio, using the mist and the ruins of the town to obscure their approach. The lead ghoul peered through the cold fog and his eyes were able to perceive the warmth of the three men standing before the barricade - their hearts beating in their chests. Drool ran from the dead maw, as the ghoul hunkered down into a low crawl and ready to spring once in range.

Strongwind sneered at the priest. Knocking an arrow and looking for a likely target. " Can heal me, just do it. Stop blathering on about Aodhans light. Use your magics priest and be done."

:ooc:  Bone bow 119% attack lead ghoul, red arrows



Damage

Situation: The streets of Barovia outside the barrier - Strongwind and company are engaged by four ghouls.

Ghouls have 10 hit points per level

Situational Modifiers: none


Physical Modifiers: mists drape everything and cause a -15% to attacks for the men; ghouls are unimpaired


Initiative:
Strongwind 17
Ismark 16
Ghouls 15
Brannon 12

:00: Ghoul leader attempts to dodge arrow: 65% (must be critical to succeed)


Ghouls close the rest of the way to attack

:00: Branon attempts to heal Strongwind: 79% castig skill


Ismark draws his weapon and prepares to attack the oncoming monsters - still out of range.

:ooc: The ghoul is struck by the arrow for double critical damage of 44, reduced to Wounded -50% (44/60)

Branon successfully heals Strongwind with Divine Heal for 12 hit points

Situation: The streets of Barovia outside the barrier - Strongwind and company are engaged by four ghouls.

Ghouls have 10 hit points per level

Ghoul Leader is Wounded -50%, 44/60


Situational Modifiers: none


Physical Modifiers: mists drape everything and cause a -15% to attacks for the men; ghouls are unimpaired


Initiative:
Strongwind 17
Ismark 16
Ghouls 15
Brannon 12

---

Like a pack of snarling dogs, the monsters were on top of the trio. They moved within the mists never being completely seen, just a rending claw and a gnashing bite.

Strongwind could barely out the ghouls swiping at him through the fog. Squinting he could just make out the shaft of his last arrow protruding from one the wretches. He grunted. Seemed a good target to him and he sent two more arrows flying.

:ooc:
Bone bow 119-15% +104%


Damage


Arrow2 89%


Damage

Strongwind's arrow struck the wounded undead and once more it cried out in an unsettling manner, sounding like an infant child's squeeky voice. Beside the Daqeen, Ismark strode forward, his own weapon drawn, and he attacked the shadowed creature before him.

---

:00: First Ghoul leader attempts to Dodge at 15%


Ismark attacks Ghoul 1
:00: Long sword 87%


*don't remember what long swords do... but will adjust for next round.

:ooc: Ghoul pack leader is slain with Strongwind's arrow. Ismark misses - forgot to take out the -15% from him, too.

I will post for Ghouls tonight, John, when I have my book. [PROMISE!]