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[D&D 3.5] Lands of Liss: Northlands (ICC & OOC)
cliveman
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
Once dominated by a coterie of Elven clans, their kingdom reached from the ocean's shores in the east to the Everwood in the west. For an age they did as they willed, consigning all other races, except for the dwarves that stayed underground in their clan holds, to be used as prey or slaves and thus their cruel rule went on until something odd happened. Groups of almost every race imaginable starting pouring in from the South, their drive to escape the conflict between the Kingdom of Righteousness and Evil Freedom Alliance so great that they persevered the many hardships of the Expanse to see their way to a new land where they could make new lives for themselves.
Finding themselves almost immediately confronted by the hostile elven clans that had dominated the Northlands, the settlers drew upon their determination to see their journey bear fruit and ironically met the elves in battle; something they had specifically striven to avoid by fleeing their homelands. After chaotic years of conflict, the settlers, having banded together and utilizing the strengths of each race, met the clans' armies in a fateful battle at what would one day be known as Talrel's Stand. Here the elven armies were crushed and dispersed before the might of the settlers and the Northlands were changed.
Now almost a century later, the settlers had spread and flourished across the Northlands, their greatest achievement being the shining city of Mardo Brannis. As close to a capitol as the territory had ever had after the fall of the elven clans, it contained the greatest bodies of learning, magical study, engineering, and law. Its heyday was cut short, however, when a massive sky stone obliterated it in an afternoon of fiery devastation. With the loss of the great city five years ago, the Northlands has started to fragment as various groups and cities see how far they can extend their reach.
Having heard the calls for mercenaries, and the promises for gold, in the large port town of Stillwater, you find yourself approaching the bustling city amidst the wagon trains, peddlers, and travelers that are also bound there. Dust rises into the air as you notice other wanderers too well armed to be commoners travelling with you; potential allies or competition? Only time will tell. The large archway in the wall you are about to pass through is manned by members of the Stillwater Guard in addition to knots of mercenaries though all appear to be simply observing the traffic for now.
The Characters
- Garrett the Halfling Rogue
- Carcharia the Elven Wilder
- Warka Muqayyar the Elan Psioncliveman on
0
Posts
"Hello lass, I'm Private Wendilford. If you're new to Stillwater then I'd be glad to assist you in any manner, you need but ask."
As he finishes speaking he gives her a slight bow with his head and waits expectantly for a reply.
"I am in need of some assistance, Private Wendilford. Thank you so much for volunteering."
I reach out and gently touch his cheek, and with a little mental thrust I have him under my control. We meander through the bustling city streets together and enter a seedy inn with a flaking painting of an owl pooping on a snake out front. I have my way with him in a moldy broom closet and then leave him naked and gagged, as I return to the bustling streets, feeling momentarily sated. But I know that it is only temporary, and my desire for vengeance will resurface again.
Stillwater Crest
The man straightens his tunic before pulling out a scroll and glancing at its contents. The guardsman standing just behind him murmurs something inaudible over the hubbub of the people on the streets but the man turns to him and replies as he rolls his eyes. The man in the tabard then clears his throat and begins to speak . With a display of overwhelming oratory prowess, or some sort of unseen magical intervention, the man's voice somehow cuts through the city's noise for all nearby to hear:
The man repeats the message verbatim three more times and then steps away from the edge of the platform having finished speaking. Several individual men in piecemeal armor and even a quartet of gnolls approach the speaker and after a few moments of conversation each group is directed by the man's arm gestures further into the city. The last to depart, the gnolls, do so with high pitched yips and barks as they eagerly set off through the crowded streets.
I head off in the direction the speaker had pointed to. Unfortunately the pack of gnolls were ahead of me and were walking in that awkward pace where you really want to pass them but would have to practically break into a trot to do so, so I deliberately walked slowly and even stopped to look at some street wares on the way. As I was leaving one such stall, a bundle of rags reached out and threw a purple cloth at my face! At first I was startled but then I realized the shivering pile was a hobo and the purple cloth was actually a rather nice maroon lady's glove! I put in on and thanked the hobo, but I'm not sure if he understood me- he just started singing in jibberish and rolled around on the ground a little.
I couldn't see the gnolls anymore, and after a few more minutes of walking I arrived at the Stillwater Guard Headquarters. The gates were open so I asked the guards there where to find Stranglestache.
A young half orc dressed in rags while wearing a bucket on his head comes running at the call and looks up at the guardsmen, and Carcharia, with adoring eyes. He immediately grabs the elven woman's hand before she can react and almost drags her off of her feet as he leads her into the compound. Once through the wall Carcharia can see numerous squat stone buildings arranged around drill squares, most full with training fighters. The half orc drags her by these areas and heads to a small keep of only three stories. The guards posted here glance at her but seeing who she is accompanied by, allow her to pass without a word. Once inside the keep Carcharia can see that a great deal of the space is devoted to offices or desks where guardsmen scribble away at stacks of parchment.
Leading her further inside, the boy comes to a wooden door on the far wall and pushes it open to reveal a waiting room with wooden benches and a few tables bearing loads of bread, cheeses, and meats.
The boy pulls out a stick he had stuck into his rags and salutes Carcharia before saying in a very formal and obviously practiced voice:
"My name is Orlann, little one, and despite how these others are reacting, I've seen your kind in action; it can be pretty terrifying. Before I joined up with the Stillwater Guard to settle down I did a little traveling and happened to find myself in Gapwich during one of the halfling raids out of the Expanse; vicious creatures." The elf closes his eyes and grimaces slightly before continuing: "They managed to take six from the town before they fled for who knows what purpose, may the spirits have mercy on them." Shaking his head in an effort to clear away the memories: "But that isn't why your here. Judging by your garb you'll be looking for mercenary work and that means you need to speak with Commander Stranglestache. I'd get Morl to show you in but he's probably hiding out watching the guardsmen train. Follow me."
The elf quickly strides away, moving past drill squares and long, low stone buildings heading for a modest keep. The guards on duty nod to the elf and moments later you are lead past rows of offices and paper strewn desks at which harried clerks are working. At the far end of the room, Orlann opens a door to a seating area filled with benches and tables full of food. A few groups of mercenaries-to-be are sitting, waiting to be seen while the only individual, an elf wearing one long maroon glove sits by herself. Orlann murmurs that he must return to the gate and shuts the door behind himself as he leaves.
Both
"Sooo some indivdals ah see. *Harumpf* We'll see if ya can werk t'gether then. Ol' Stragnely'll see ya now."
The man leads the two of you to the adjoining chamber and opens the heavy wooden door that is bound with iron. Once opened, it reveals an office whose walls are lined with cabinets, a suit of plate mail, and a large desk that occupies the center of the room. Behind the desk sits a middle aged broad dwarf with blonde hair sporting the largest mustache either of you has ever seen. At first glance you think that the quill he has stuck in his facial hair has been placed there to keep it out of the way until the tendril of hair extends towards the desk and begins scribbling on a parchment.
Commander Stranglestache
Leaning back in his chair slightly, you can see the Stillwater crest emblazoned on his tabard and while he eyes you his seemingly prehensile facial fur continues to work. After studying both of you for a few moments he says in a gruff voice:
"Well you've obviously come to seek employment from the city of Stillwater, and though this is just a formality, I'd like to know why and what background you have that you think makes you suitable for this sort of work. Whenever you build from stone, after all, you must be sure that the foundation can bear the weight. The same goes for our squads, especially when they're partially comprised of individual mercenaries who are usually motivated by gold and their own survival."
But I am a little curious as to why you ask. I'm assuming that pack of gnolls you just hired didn't come here looking to rescue kittens and help old ladies cross the street. Would it really matter if I were a rapist or something equally abhorrent? Which, I assure you, I am not. I mean, no offense little man (I say, nodding to the halfling), but this guy has vomit all over him, and this glove I'm wearing was just given to me by some crazy hobo!
Holding up something that resembles a large stamp, you are able to catch glimpse of the Stillwater crest before Stranglestache stands up and moves around the desk. With a quick, well practiced motion, he stamps Carcharia and Garrett on the back of their left hands, releasing a flare of light. As he returns to his seat what looks like a fist sized Stillwater crest tattoo appears on the mercenaries skin. Oddly enough, even if the mercenaries are wearing gloves the emblem eventually bleeds through the material, appearing to have been painted or stained on.
"As you may have noticed, while in our employ all mercenaries bear our mark to display their allegiance. If you would like to leave service, it is a simple matter of completing whatever your current assignment is and asking one of our officers to dissolve the bond. We've found it keeps our mercenaries 'honest' in their duties and helps motivate them to perform well."
The old guard who led you in slips out of the room and returns with another aged human man, though this one has long white hair and a scar on the left side of his face. A wrinkled, weathered face and slightly bowing shoulders seem to imply that he's led a long, tiring life.
"Sir, reporting as ordered."
"Excellent Sergeant Gulford. These two, and possibly one more if we get another single joiner in the next day or so, will be joining your patrol up to the town of Davon through Talrel's Stand. We’ve recently received a request from their mayor for some men to ensure that their trade fair proceeds quietly so you'll be seeing to that too before heading home. You are dismissed."
"Yes, Sir!" Turning to the mercenaries he says, "Follow me and we'll head to the Fitz, a mercenary tavern by the north gate where you can find a room for the night, before we head out tomorrow morning."
By now the heat of the day has clearly thinned traffic on the streets as most people take refuge inside until it gets cooler later on. This makes it easy for your group to move through the streets and within half an hour you manage to find yourselves at the Fitz. Going inside and claiming a table, Gulford takes a seat and motions for you to sit before he snags a flagon of ale from a passing barmaid’s tray. He sips the brew and then speaks, “You lot definitely look skilled, more so than the green guardsmen we’ve got in the patrol, so I’ll keep this brief. Follow my orders if we get into any fighting, look out for each other, don’t cause any trouble along the route, and we’ll get along fine. Any questions?”
"I have a question, *Gulf*. First, what exactly did we just agree to do? I'm definitely pro-tattoo, especially if it's a result of drinking, but this sounds mighty dangerous... I'm not in the habit of agreeing to things on a whim, but when you catch me in one of my beard induced comas, who knows what can happen."
What is this trade fair going to be like? Is the mayor expecting trouble or something? And will the tattoo thing wash out of my clothes? I don't like the idea of having my nice gloves potentially ruined forever by your weird mark. Although it is better than being peed on, I suppose.
Gulford, momentarily distracted by the noise, takes another swig of ale amidst the sounds of the crowded common room and considers your questions for a moment before responding.
"Well little fellow, it's simple enough really. Smaller groups of Stillwater's mercenary forces usually assist patrols or guardsmen within our towns. Larger groups are stationed in settlements on the edge of our sphere of influence, such as in Noringard, a fortress on the border of the Elven WIlds, or the river town of Telregard on the banks of the Etymon in the south. Most mercs start off with smaller assignments to prove their worth before they are given the choice of more dangerous, and more profitable, jobs. The magical tattoo you now bear was designed to show through any covering material so that our forces can be sure of your loyalty with a glance, though I suppose it isn't a foolproof guarantee. The only obligations you must suffer under, and I don't really think that they're that onerous, is to see out your assignment so that your superior will remove the mark, and generally abide by our laws." Looking first at Carcharia and then Garrett, Gulford says, "So no need to worry about your belongings and as long as any shenanigans you pull are in service to Stillwater, that's fine by me."
Gulford muses for a minute or so, clearly thinking about something while the noise of discontent from the nearby table grows, another note in the cacophony of the common room.
"The last time I was in Davon was nearly twenty years ago and I thought it was a dying town then. I'm fairly surprised that it still exists or that it can host a trade fair, but from those I've talked to that have performed this patrol before, oddly few for some reason, they say that the fair is mainly used to sell off statues and figurines made of solid gold that the fishing people keep finding in their nets. I know that at least two large merchant groups, the Goldleaf Cartel and the Crimson Caravan, are sending delegations to try and gain the distribution rights for these objects and so I suppose we'll have to keep the peace between them and watch out for any bandits that might try to steal the town's goods."
Before your new leader can elaborate further, an aura of eye watering body odor engulfs the table as a half orc with a mullet and three greasy looking humans arrive. They all share expressions of extreme dissatisfaction and the orc speaks (actually bellowing, having lost control over the volume of his voice), slurring his words ""WE GOTS NO PROBLEM WITH YOU, GUARDS - MAN. *hiccup* BUT MERCE.. MENarcy... *pointing at Carcharia and Garrett* GOTTA BE LEARNT SOME R'SPECT OUT IN THE RING FER MESSIN' WITH OUR DRINKIN'!"
The commotion inside the Fitz dies down at the drunken challenge as all eyes turn towards the confrontation, waiting with bated breath for your response. Gulford, leaning back in his chair with his noise in his mug to avoid and mask most of the acrid odor of the laborers looks to you and says, "The sparring ring outback is designed for this, just so you know, and the worst that can happen is being knocked unconscious. What say you?"
This fight will help display how fights will work PBP style. Also if your initiatives are in a block, you may wish to go out of order of each other to speed up posting.
HP: 15
Total AC: 19
FFAC: 15
TAC: 17
Fort: +1
Ref: +4
Will: +5
"Stranglestache sent Krezzyl to join your patrol... sir. Looks like you'll already be in need of his help."
Krezzyl
Warka orders a glass of wine, and diplomes the delivery boy with a 19 in an attempt to get it for free.
"Mr, Mulleted orkish man, there, we mean you no harm and have no need for you to show us your superior physicallity, we can already smell it from two tables away. And as all odoriforous individuals of a laboring nature we are not to inclined to compete on, shall we say, a mental plane of engagedment, as that would only prove to embarras all parties involved in the tilt of the brains. But if you must go and insist on such an exercise of physical conflict I can assure you our hobobbly, nose-bublously comrade here will take you on faster than you can slur your own name. Ready? Go!"
Turning to the half orc and his companions, who are swaying as if on a ship at sea, Krezzyl smiles to reveal sharp teeth and roars in answer to the laborers' challenge. The crowd inside the Fitz, eagerly anticipating the combat to come begins to cheer for the combatants as they stream out a rear door alongside both groups. Reemerging into the sweltering heat and sunlight, you can now see a large sandy fighting arena just fitting between the city wall and the Fitz. Old marks upon the sand resemble dried blood, reminders of other battles, but you remember Sergeant Gulford's claim that the worst that can happen is being knocked unconscious so you allow yourselves to be led to starting positions within the ring. On the far side, the odoriferous half orc exhorts his comrades and then turns towards your group after handing out lengths of stout wood.
**Since you guys know a battle is about to begin you may start with weapons of your choice drawn.**
Garrett & Warka
Round 1 Map
19 9H Bar Thug 2 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: -
16 9I Bar Thug 3 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: -
->15 15G Krezzyl 24/24, AC=20, FF=17, T=13, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 1, Status: -
8 15I Carcharia 15/15, AC=19, FF=15, T=17, Fort=1, Ref=4, Will=5, Status: Flat Footed
7 2J Bar Thug 4 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: Flat Footed
5 2G Bar Thug 1 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: Flat Footed
4 15J Warka 10/10, AC=**, FF=**, T=10, Fort=2, Ref=2, Will=6, Status: Flat Footed
** 15H Garrett 23/23, AC=17, FF=15, T=13, Fort=6, Ref=7, Will=4, Status: None
Move & Standard Action: Bar Thug 3 moves from 2I to 9I
If you peer closely enough you might even be able to recognize what movie your enemies' faces were taken from.
"Wait there, my fellow bar customers, turners of the soil or what not you choose as professions from your grandparent's lineage. We have no nothing but respect for your lives and do not wish to cause undo harm to those of you who provide us with the wares we require to travel our great Northlands and assist those in need (presently being the great city-state of Stillwater). What do you all say to an amicable resolution involving such a barter of services and crafts? ..." Warka says.
"Nice try boyo! That might've worked inside where we could've settled this over a'few pints... but there's only one thing to do when the blood's up and people are a'watchin', and that's FIGHT!"
Barely intelligible from this distance the last part of his response is muttered quickly,
"Besides, I was really drunk and wouldn't have been able to listen to reason."
Carcharia is sickened at the hobgoblin's barbaric actions in what she thought was just a "friendly" bout. She rolls a 2 for a fortitude save and fails. She turns to the side and barfs on the already vomit-covered halfling. She tries to apologize between heaves but it is difficult to understand her at the moment.
The reeking halfling, still oblivious to the world, makes no complaints at being showered with intestinal juices and digested foods, possibly lost in the rapture of being cheered on by the patrons from the Fitz.
Actions
Move: Charge Attacks Krezzyl moving to H9
Attack: 1d20+2(Attack Bonus)+2(Charge Bonus)=7+4=11: MISS!
Bar Thug 1
Move: Charge Attacks Krezzyl moving to G9
Attack: 1d20+2(Attack Bonus)+2(Charge Bonus)=14+4=18: MISS!
19 9H Bar Thug 2 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: Dead
16 9I Bar Thug 3 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status:
15 15G Krezzyl 24/24, AC=20, FF=17, T=13, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 1, Status:
8 15I Carcharia 15/15, AC=19, FF=15, T=17, Fort=1, Ref=4, Will=5, Status:
7 9H Bar Thug 4 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: -2AC Until Start of Next Turn
5 9G Bar Thug 1 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: -2AC Until Start of Next Turn
->4 15J Warka 10/10, AC=**, FF=**, T=10, Fort=2, Ref=2, Will=6, Status:
** 15H Garrett 23/23, AC=17, FF=15, T=13, Fort=6, Ref=7, Will=4, Status: None
Round 2 Map
19 9H Bar Thug 2 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: Dead
16 9I Bar Thug 3 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: Dazed 1 Round
->15 10G Krezzyl 24/24, AC=20, FF=17, T=13, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 1, Status:
8 15I Carcharia 15/15, AC=19, FF=15, T=17, Fort=1, Ref=4, Will=5, Status:
8 15H Garrett 23/23, AC=17, FF=15, T=13, Fort=6, Ref=7, Will=4, Status:
7 9H Bar Thug 4 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: -2 AC Until Start of Turn
5 9G Bar Thug 1 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: -2 AC Until Start of Turn
4 K15 Warka 10/10, AC=12, FF=12, T=10, Fort=2, Ref=2, Will=6, Status:
Initiative & Stats
19 9H Bar Thug 2 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: Dead
16 9I Bar Thug 3 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: Dazed 1 Round
->15 10G Krezzyl 24/24, AC=20, FF=17, T=13, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 1, Status:
8 15I Carcharia 15/15, AC=19, FF=15, T=17, Fort=1, Ref=4, Will=5, Status:
8 10H Garrett 23/23, AC=17, FF=15, T=13, Fort=6, Ref=7, Will=4, Status:
7 9H Bar Thug 4 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: -2 AC Until Start of Turn
5 9G Bar Thug 1 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: -2 AC Until Start of Turn
4 K15 Warka 10/10, AC=10, FF=10, T=10, Fort=2, Ref=2, Will=6, Status:
Meanwhile Carcharia regains her composure and looses an arrow at bar thug 3. Apparently she has not completely recovered and the arrow just misses, flying by his left shoulder. A small voice from somewhere whispers earnestly to Carcharia to "concentrate!" and she mumbles a response.
Actions
Attack of Opportunity: 1d20+2=13+2=15: MISS!
19 9H Bar Thug 2 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: Dead
16 9I Bar Thug 3 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: Dazed 1 Round
15 10G Krezzyl 24/24, AC=20, FF=17, T=13, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 1, Status: Prone (-4 Attack Rolls/AC while Prone)
8 15I Carcharia 15/15, AC=19, FF=15, T=17, Fort=1, Ref=4, Will=5, Status:
->8 10H Garrett 23/23, AC=17, FF=15, T=13, Fort=6, Ref=7, Will=4, Status:
7 9H Bar Thug 4 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: -2 AC Until Start of Turn
5 9G Bar Thug 1 10/10, AC=14, FF=12, T=12, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 0, Status: Dead
4 K15 Warka 10/10, AC=10, FF=10, T=10, Fort=2, Ref=2, Will=6, Status: