Yappa's Princes of the Apocalypse

[SuperCommando]

THE DESSARIN VALLEY
6000 YEARS AGO
THE FABLED KINGDOM OF BESILMER

Lightning split the stormy midnight sky again and again over the great Stone Bridge. Over two miles long, the gigantic archway comfortably spanned even the widest spring flood banks of the mighty Dessarin River, which raged a dizzying four hundred feet below. Connected by the bridge was a rare spectacle – a dwarven realm built on the surface. The heart of Besilmer was a sprawling metropolis of tall glittering jewel-encrusted buildings, towers, and palaces the likes of which boasted unrivaled splendor. Most nights it would be a wonder to behold, but not on this night.

On this night, the Kingdom of Besilmer was burning.


((BGM START!))

SPOILER: Click to show

Start video at the two minute mark (currently linked), then play from the beginning on subsequent repeats as necessary.

SUPERCOMMANDO PRESENTS
A YAPPA’S HALO RPG ORIGINAL ADVENTURE

Through the howling wind and slashing rain and the dire ringing of alarm bells, a titanic figure stomped across the river with lumbering strides. Towering well over the bridge, this giant was, like the rest of Besilmer, an engineering marvel. Its bipedal humaniod form was like a stone statue animated by machinery and magic, and it carried in its hand an equally great stone sword. It marched alongside the length of the bridge, heading towards the opposite bank where the fires raged the fiercest.

Standing atop the giant’s shoulder with arms crossed and face stern with fury was a regal dwarf who squinted into the storm with gritted teeth. His splendid armor was intricately crafted, and upon his head was a crowned helm with multiple small gold points. Upon his back was a magnificent double-headed great axe.

STARRING
BetaWülf

“My king!”

The dwarf king stopped and cast his gaze down to the bridge, where a small group of armored soldiers were rushing over to meet him. Their officer called out to him over the storm. “Sire! There is nothing we can do against this strange power! It struck without warning! Scores are dead, everything is in chaos, and our remaining mages are overwhelmed trying to contain the damage! I fear not even the Colossus can do anything to save us from this!”

“What of my family?” shouted the king. “Have they evacuated to Tyar-Besil safely?”

“I’m sorry my lord! It is impossible to say in this madness!”

The king, clearly distraught, could only shake his head. As he peered through the darkness and torrential rain, all that met his gaze was destruction. Buildings on both sides of the river were burning, collapsing from violent tremors, or both. Screams of the terrified, wounded, and dying carried in the wind. The magnitude of it all was staggering.

edtosivaree

“Why…? How? What, what in the nine hells is happening?” the anguished king moaned.

“Take heart my king,” consoled the axe on his back. “The people look up to you for strength. You must not allow yourself to give in to despair.”

The king was not listening as he growled loudly to himself. Unable to contain his rage and disbelief any longer, he inhaled sharply before letting out a deep roar at the sky.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Faclan

“Hear me, damn it! Whatever the hell you are!” he furiously cried into the storm. “I am Torhild, son of Malgron, King Ironstar of Besilmer! If you dare to lay waste to my kingdom, then I challenge you to face me directly! FACE ME!!!”

The officer and his soldiers exchanged concerned glances as their king lost his composure and started ranting at the sky, wondering perhaps if the shock of everything happening had driven him mad.

Then, as lightning continued flash all around and thunder boomed overhead, a terrible voice echoed out from the storm.

“aS YOu wiSH,”

Seraph

The dwarven officer turned around, partly due to a chilling dread that washed over him and partly because there was suddenly a noise just behind him that wasn’t there before, a snapping sound like that of a sail in fierce winds. As it turns out, he wasn’t far off.

A large, dark form that hadn’t been there a moment ago was suddenly there now, standing in the middle of the soldiers as if he’d been there the whole time, only nobody saw him appear. He loomed an imposing ten feet tall over the surrounding dwarves. Draped from his back was an overly-long deep purple cape that flapped and fluttered sideways in the raging wind like a banner. In fact, upon closer inspection is was actually a banner. The officer realized with horror that it must have been torn from the side of King Ironstar’s palace and worn like a trophy.

The towering stranger stood perfectly still and was clad head to toe in matte, unreflective black plate armor. The perimeter of each individual plate was engraved with primordial runes, and in the center of the breastplate was a strange symbol. The menacing helm was adorned with seven massive horns – two that swept forward, two that swept back, two curving up from the sides, and one on the top that also curved back. And on the front of the helm, there were four narrow slanted eye slits that each brightly burned a different color from within – red, yellow, white, and blue. These eyes were directed upward, locked unwaveringly at King Ironstar standing upon the shoulder of the Colossus.

LaxKnight

“What!? Where – “ the officer blurted out in surprise, before suddenly getting impaled through the face by an ornate spear the dark stranger was holding. The armored figure didn’t throw it, he merely held out his hand and the spear shot forth on its own.

“wINdVaNE,” muttered that disturbing voice from beneath the horned helm. The spear reversed, extracting itself from the dwarf’s ruined skull and then quickly spun around mid-air, smacking the dead officer in the side of the head with the back end before the body could even fall, knocking it sideways and off the side of the bridge. It then proceeded to chase after the other soldiers, who stumbled to parry or dodge the nimble flying weapon.

Zenith

“Damn you!” one of them spat as he rushed the dark stranger with a war cry and upraised battleaxe.

“EMbeRstRiKe,” the stranger mumbled. A broad, curved sword at his side suddenly flared to life, its edge lit up with a hiss and a bright orange glow, but otherwise he stood still.

As the soldier’s axe came crashing down on that black armor the stranger didn’t even flinch, but at the very instant of contact the soldier’s entire body suddenly became engulfed in flames with a great whoosh of air. He screamed and flailed around helplessly as he quickly burned to death.

“At last! An enemy upon whom to unleash our wrath!” Torhild’s axe cheered. “For Besilmer!”

“For Besilmeeeeeeer!!!” cried the dwarven king as he mentally commanded the Colossus to attack. It lifted back its sword – so immense was the giant stone weapon that it blocked out the rain and lightning struck at it when fully upraised – before heaving it sideways, sweeping it over the top of the Stone Bridge.

The being in the black armor snatched a war pick from his hip and with a sideways flourish drove its point straight through the torso of the final remaining soldier. He uttered the name, “iROnFanG”, and then ripped it back out and spun it into a block off to the other side just in time to intercept the tremendous, seemingly unstoppable swing of the Colossus.

Yet upon touching the war pick, the enormous tower-sized sword abruptly and violently shattered.

Remnant

The force of the blow was so great that it boomed across the land, its volume drowning out even the storm’s fearsome thunder. The tip of the sword went whirling off into the darkness, while the Colossus was left staggering forward off balance with a broken hilt in hand. The powerful armored stranger remained standing unfazed on the bridge, long banner-cape streaming beside him.

King Torhild Ironstar had been thrown from the Colossus by the collision, sent tumbling down its giant arm before crashing limply onto the bridge, his crowned helm and his axe went skittering amongst the surrounding rubble and debris.

Huka

One final weapon remained in the armored being’s other gauntlet. A long trident. He turned to face the staggered Colossus and rolled the trident’s handle over the back of his hand.

“dRoWN,” he said, slamming the end of the weapon onto the bridge with a sharp ring.

Recovering, the Colossus turned its head to face the dark adversary. It reached out with one hand in attempt to crush him in its fist, but its arm was deflected by the bridge itself as suddenly the Colossus began to sink down into the river. A swirling maelstrom had formed beneath it, slowly swallowing the Colossus whole as it was dragged lower and lower through the water and into the earth. The stone giant continued to try and reach up, even though the bridge was now beyond its grasp, until finally even its fingertips were lost beneath the raging waves.

AND

SuperCommando

AS THE DUNGEON MASTER

Groaning, the king struggled to his feet. His left arm was dislocated and hung uselessly and agonizingly at his side. He limped over to his axe and hefted it up with his right hand, even though it was difficult to hold with just one arm. All the while the dark stranger simply stood still, silently watching.

“Orcsplitter, uhn, old friend, I fear… Our final battle together draws near…” Torhild said quietly to his axe, wincing through the pain.

“It has been an honor, my king.” The axe solemnly replied.

Torhild then directed his attention to the one in the dark armor. “Why?” demanded the king as he defiantly hobbled towards his enemy, dragging his axe behind him. “Who are you? What have you done to my kingdom, why are you doing this!?”

BASED ON THE DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS 5TH EDITION CAMPAIGN

The stranger turned directly to face the advancing dwarf, and slowly began to walk. As he did so, Torhild stopped dead in his tracks. With eyes wide in disbelief, he watched as the ten foot tall armored figure’s form started to change before him.

“I… aM a HeRald... ANd tHis iS jUSt a taSTe OF tHe aPocALypSe tO coME…”

((BGM END))

[SuperCommando]

Threads

INFORMATION THREAD

OOC THREAD

Sessions:

Prologue - Thousands of years ago, the Kingdom of Besilmer is destroyed by a mysterious being in dark armor wielding four weapons of great power.

Chapter 1 - Travelers arrive in the Dessarin Valley

Chapter 2 - An elf named Meri and a Dragonborn named Nivara get aquainted on the way to the town of Red Lark.

[SuperCommando]

CHAPTER 1 – WELCOME TO THE DESSARIN VALLEY
PLAYER(S): BetaWülf , Faclan , Seraph , Zenith , Remnant , Huka

THE DESSARIN VALLEY
PRESENT DAY
THE STONE BRIDGE

The day began with the steady, rhythmic creak of wagon wheels and the smell of fresh water nearby. The ride was surprisingly smooth, so smooth in fact it would be highly noticeable to the travelers just beginning to awaken from the previous night’s rest. The canopy covering the wagon blocked out most of the sun, but through small tears in the canvas here and there rays of early morning light beamed in.

“Rise an’ shine back there!” called out the wagon driver, a friendly old man named Doran, to the people hitching a ride in back among the goods he was delivering. “If y’all ain’t never been to the Dessarin Valley before, ya don’t wanna miss this! Go on, look outside!

((Once somebody opens the flap hanging at the front or the back of the wagon, the following is what you all see.))

((BGM START!))

SPOILER: Click to show

I really really wanted to use this song, however the regular version is incredibly hard to find on youtube. If anyone can track it down let me know, otherwise the nightcore version will have to do. (Which is still befitting of the situation, in fact making it feel more upbeat and cheerful).

Play one time through and BGM END

It was just after dawn. Warm sunbeams lanced through some light cloud cover and a crisp, cool breeze whistled through the air. The ground upon which the wagon rode was actually perfectly flat stone, and off to the sides there was a grand outlook of the sprawling countryside… from a bird’s-eye-view!

The caravan was hundreds of feet high over a wide rushing river, traveling carefully across a massively long stone bridge that was thirty feet wide and had no siderails whatsoever! The horizon was blocked by steep green hills, and a flock of white birds could be seen gliding below.



((The caravan consists of two large covered wagons pulled by oxen and contains crates and barrels and passengers, as well as a few pack animals (or dismounted riding animals) tied to the wagons. It is traveling west across the Stone Bridge (yes, the same bridge from the prologue), heading for the Sumber Trail and eventually Red Lark. There are eleven people. The six of you, and 5 NPCs (one driving each wagon, one sleeping in the second wagon, and two riding outside.

Stone Bridge dimensions: 400ft high, 30ft wide, over 2 miles long.

Your character can be in the first wagon (the one with Doran driving) or the second wagon, or even on your mount riding alongside if you have one and are even up this early. You’re likely just awaking, but you could already have been up. It’s up to you to determine how long you have been with the caravan and how much you’re paying for the ride. (Although Doran does kindly offer rides for free).

You are free to post and interact with each other or NPCs. Now let’s get this started!))

[Faclan]

(Flute stoof Link nearly all of this works for Gonffs hopefully nice and relaxing playing.)

Chapter 1
Gonff, Mousefolk Bard - on the big ol Stone Bridge
Old timey wake up radio Mouse.

Rubbing his right ear a bit as Doran shouted out for wakey wakey times, Gonff sitting right behind him on top of the main arch of the Wagons roof, the Mousefolk smiled as he waited for others to awaken. He hoped some of they hadn't seen the bridge before as the worry and cowering in the cart always made him snicker before he tried to help them relax. Or at least take their mind off it with some tales. It was sure different from the last time he had traversed this bridge, as last time he was alone and it was heavily raining with the wind too. Nearly being blown off to fall four hundred feet sure made that a restless night for the small Mousefolk. Was good to see the high sunset from the bridge this time.

Having been awake to watch the sunrise and to make sure some of the newer animals were fine walking on such an odd structure Gonff was just generally in a good mood today. The fact he had gotten first crack at the morning biscuits helped but now that the wake up alarm had been officially called it meant that Gonff could do his own wake up call. But a few of the caravan occupants had seemed irked at his story telling last night so he was instead going to play some quiet flute music to help the morning go well for everyone and wake them up hopefully calmly.

But he didn't start right away however and instead remained on the roof of the first wagon as he took out his small notebook and started to write in it. Wanting to give people the chance to just start to wake up before he started to play. He had already noted most of the people in this caravan but was writing in a separate page for a little story he was working on. Nothing too major just the intro of a retelling of the Mousefolk legend that he took his name from, just with much nastier Goblins and Orcs rather that the fellow furred baddies of the past.

Having only been with Dorans caravan for the last night and today Gonff was doing his best to pay for his trip with gold but the elder didn't seem to want any when Gonff could play the flute. But in a odd switch around for the Bard he had slipped some coins into Dorans coin purse rather than take stuff away during the night. Truth be told Gonff didn't even know if he had seen everyone in the caravan yet as last night was mostly just him arriving after identifying himself and then providing some entertainment for them all. It sure was a motly collection from what he had seen, and the little tale he had shared last night about a tribe of barbaric BugBears, some of the Humans had wanted a spookier tale, had gone over well enough but he could have sworn there was some growling outside of the main firelight. But that was in the past now as he finally pulled out his flute and stuck it in his teeth like a large cigar out the side as he put away his notebook just as Doran looked back at him.
"May we make requests Gonff?"

Swishing the flute around in his mouth to have a better hold on it and be able to speak Gonff smiled and nodded. "Of course Doran, and if I know it I'll be happy to play it for you."

"Do you know Dew Dashed Sunrise?"

With just a simple nod Gonff readjusted himself on the top of the wagon and took a deep breath before starting to play, the notes of the flute drifting back to the other caravan occupants as the tiny Bard hopefully gave them a nice morning wake up before it was time for food.


Summary; Already awake, on top of lead caravan, wrote a little and now playing flute for the group to wake up too. Told a tale of barbaric Bugbears last night, thinks it went over well enough.

[LaxKnight]

CHAPTER 2 – HOMEWARD BOUND
PLAYER(S): LaxKnight , edtosivaree

THE LONG ROAD
JUST NORTH OF RED LARK

Meri, Wood Elf Rogue


It was a beautiful day here. The sun has just peeked over the hills and wiped away the last traces of the night. There was a slight chill in the air as the welcomed rays have yet to work their magic. Dew hung on the grass as a slight mist settled over it, yet to be dissipated by morning’s arrival. A wide, well travelled dirt road sat between some hills, darkened by moisture but by no means muddy. There were few clouds in the sky for the sun to join as it slowly rose into the sky. If one listened carefully they could hear birds chirping far off somewhere. It was peaceful, a moment that seemed frozen in time, something artists would aspire to painting.

However something broke the relative emptiness of the land. A strange sight can be seen on this road fit for two caravans. First was the strange and fierce beast the other two rode. The reptilian Kirin trotted along as it followed the road. It was clear who the owner was for they shared a similar visage. Tall, powerful, and intimidating, in the rear of the saddle was a Dragonborn. Her scales were as black as a moonless night yet had a certain polish to them. A large blanket draped her form as her head hung down as she rested on her steed. The last occupant was the most unusual for in the company of such strange and frightening companions was a small, thin Wood Elf clad in little more than rags and a dirty blue scarf that covered her mouth. They were an unusual bunch for sure in a land dominated by Humans. 

Meri was a city girl through and through but the last few years of travelling gave her an appreciation for the country, when it wasn’t trying to kill her anyway. It was so pretty with moments no picture can ever capture. You can’t get sunrises like this in the city. She looked back at her sleeping companion. It was truly amazing how life works. One moment she was terrified that she lost her only friend, the next she was nursing what people around here considered a monster, and now here she was heading back home with a new friend. Well, maybe friend wasn’t the proper word. The world was getting more dangerous recently and while she was sneaky, Meri was worried about the bandits and monsters that now plagued the Long Road far more frequently in the last few months. While she wasn’t thinking this when she help her, she got the Dragonborn to escort her back home so she can find her friend. It proved necessary for indeed they ran into some trouble along the way but over the trek they rarely spoke for the Dragonborn rarely spoke and Meri was simply too scared of annoying her to ask questions. Acquaintance was a better word. At least they knew each other’s names so that’s gotta count for something right?

Since Meri can see in the dark and she didn’t need to sleep, just rest her eyes for a bit, so she always took night watch. There shouldn’t be anymore bandits or monsters this close to Red Lark but Meri didn’t get by this long not being careful. Now that it was a little past dawn it came to the scariest part of the day: waking Nivara up. The Wood Elf took a moment to gather her courage and figure out how exactly to wake her dormant companion. Settling on an action, she tentatively reached out and very lightly tapped the the sleeping Dragonborn on the shoulder a few times. She braced for any sort of retribution, leaning away with an eye closed and the other waiting for the reaction.

Summary: Meri is awake already, riding down the road on Nivara's mount, waking big and scary Nivara up.

[edtosivaree]

Nivara Fendrake
Chapter Two: Homeward Bound
Summary: Got off Brimstone and is walking beside him.

Nivara slept heavy in the saddle, dreamlessly resting. Or she would be if she wasn't being tapped on the shoulder by something. Cracking one of her eyes open, she saw the wood elf from before. She opened her eyes fully, looking around silently to make sure the coast was clear for the most part. It was completely clear. Why was she woken up... More importantly, how long had they been riding? She straightened up and slid off the Kirin to inspect it.

Without saying a word, the Dragonborn grabbed the reins and started to walk alongside the beast. This, unfortunately, had the downside of slowing down their pace. The Kirin seemed much less strained now, able to carry the seven and a half stone elf with remarkable ease. She needed to stretch, though, and Brimstone needed to relax as by the looks of it, he had been carrying them all night.

[BetaWülf]

Chapter One
Alder Spinebreker: Bugbear Barbarian
Bad Company

Alder sat in the back of the lead wagon, his legs draped down and hanging off the end of the tailgate as he combed his fur with his claws. His prehensile feet grasped idly at the air as he absentmindedly groomed himself, his mind in the far distance of his Northern homeland. He missed the Edge(Motrah-kol in his native dialect), it was where he belonged. But he his heart had grown cold, hardened from the fires that consumed his loved ones. He had sworn a blood-oath of vengeance, he would not return to the Edge until he had slaughtered those who massacred his Kinsmen.

His father, elder brothers, and several cousins(including the heir to his Warlord uncle) were killed that fateful day, Alder himself suffered severe burns to his torso as well. His entire left side under his arm all the way down to his hip had been burnt, leaving a massive burn scar, with several smaller ones dotting his body. He sighed to himself, which caused his steed and companion to perk up and look at him with its massive avian eyes.

The creature that had come to be the Bugbear's companion was an Owlbear, a wholly strange creature in its own right. It was a massive beast, the size of a large bear with a similar shaped and furred body, however it shared many features with Owls as well. For instance it had supersized Owl talons and a ridge of feathers ran the length of the back of its forelimbs, and its head was essentially that of a Great Horned Owl(though scaled to be in proportion with the body of a bear). It was weird. Alder loved it anyway.

He looked up when he heard the wagon driver Doran call for the caravan members to wake, the Bugbear however had been awake most of the night given he was still adjusting to his Diurnal traveling companion's sleep cycles. Alder was fairly certain Doran was the only one who knew he was a Bugbear, a kind older man; quite different then most of the Humanoids the Bugbear encountered. Alder knew the small rodent man didn't know what he was as the diminutive beast told a tale of 'barbaric Bugbears', Northern monsters they sup upon the flesh of children. Hogwash! Bugbears only ate adult humanoids, what a silly rodent man.

Alder was honestly glad Doran seemed to be the only one who knew his genus identity, after the half pints story about what terrible monsters Bugbears were he'd likely find himself getting thrown off the damn bridge. Or him and his Owlbear would have to try and kill them all... or flee. Alder scratched at his beard, hopefully it wouldn't come to any of those. What an inconvenience it would be, a major setback to his quest.

Alder looked up as the sound of soft flute music filled his long caniformian ears, it was a good sound, and made Alder feel pleasantly in the early morning light as the gentle breeze washed over him. He was surprised what a gentle land was to be found to the South of the Edge, he was shocked such a land could foster such senseless hatred as those who attacked his Tribe. If those responsible were even this far South, the trail had gone cold and Alder was wondering if he should go back.

[Seraph]

Chapter One:
Ruutok, of the Ogaidu: Half-Orc Druid
Waking up in a cold sweat.
((Summary: After awakening from another troubled sleep with visions of violent black storms Ruutok takes a few silent moments to collect himself. With little more to do than admire the scenery he makes small talk with Alder Spinebreaker about the Stone Bridge.))

Tumultuous churning clouds rattle high over head.
Over the horizon they cast a blanket of inky blackness.
Screaming winds and whipping rains obscure one's sight.
Angrier the heart of thunder and lightning cracks the sky.
A flash and a crack and all is torn asunder by the storm.
An aura of woe upon all that fall under its shadow,
The crown of many thorns.

     Ruutok woke with a start with a quiet gasp and a twitch of his muscles having been rocked from his fragile sleep by the the rousing call of the morning come. He was seated in the rear of the wagon reclined against the heavy canvas cover, hood pulled over his head to hide the cold sweat of his brow. Once he had realized what he though was distant rumbling thunder was only the only the wheels of the wagon cart on stone he visibly relaxed. The Half-Orc pulled the fur blanket tighter around him like a cloak, raised his head looking around for his staff with a groggy look in his eyes. Finally his gaze fell upon the long shaft of rough carved cedar which must have slipped from his loose grasp when he was shaken awake from his dreams. Ruutok leaned over and hugged it close to his body as he leaned back against the canvas collecting himself.

     Staring at the ceiling of the cart he sat in quiet contemplation collecting his thoughts as his senses were coming to full wakefulness. It was the same dream again as the night before. The ominous images flashing across his sight were even more vivid than the last times. Ruutok almost could feel the dampening rain soaking him to the bone or the bite of the wind upon his skin and eyes with the dream still so fresh in his mind. Along drawn out sigh escaped his lips as the shaman settled in his seat amongst the wears and other occupants of Doran's wagon. Ruutok's tired eyes wandered over the inside of the cart to get a sense of the current goings on.

    He could see daylight finally beaming through the open front of the drivers seat where the back of old Doran's head could be seen against the sun. On the opposite end out of the open back of the wagon sat the great hairy back of the only company the Half-Orc had known on the trip down the Long Road only until recently. Another one however was nowhere to be found and would have thought the little storyteller was absent were in not for the chipper melody like chirping bird song tickling his ears. The sounds of the sweet melody and the sunny skies outside beyond the open wagon flap were a great comfort in contrast to another night of troubled sleep. A small smile played across the shaman's face from the elation.

     Shifting closer on the bench to the back of the wagon for a better look outside Ruutok looked out to see the caravan trailing behind them and the bridge they traveled upon. Of any wonder that he had ever seen in nature or built by a civilization this bridge seemed to defy his understanding of any engineering. From what he could see looking over the form of his Bugbear companion it was as impressive as any view one could catch from a mountain peak without the grueling hike.

"Hmm." Ruutok broke his silence with a bemused grunt. "Tell me, friend. Would you have ever believed a tale of a path carved of stone that could span a mountain with little more than the air beneath it to hold it all aloft?" he asked in an incredulous tone.

[Zenith]

Chapter 1: WELCOME TO THE DESSARIN VALLEY

(Setting the Mood)

Morgana Cromren, Human Fighter/Currently a Bar Maid

Traversing the Stone Bridge

In Good Health - Awakening to a interesting sight

---

A rather loud call would bring Morgana to her senses from the hard wood flooring of the wagon cart that had served as her bed for the night before. One green eye would flutter open before giving a slow and tired glance around the cart as a dragon would upon waking from a nap. The beams of sunlight would fall on her face as she did so giving her deep auburn hair a slight glow to it as she sat up rather ungracefully for one who had once awoken in castle halls.

She would tilt her head a moment before slowly turning her head to the large pack beside her. With a smile that spoke a tale of bittersweet times she would run her large hand over the fine leatherwork as if trying to remember when she had gotten the old thing. Yet as if reaching a point in the memory in which things soured she would remove her hand, her fist balling slight as she rose to her feet.

The rocking of the cart didn't seem to bother her as she gave a slight glance around wagon she had called home for the last few days. Inside the wagon space was cramped with the items of it's passengers though each pack of items told a story in and of itself. Carefully she would step over sleeping man in the cart with her before looking down at herself.

Straight out of the tavern.....She couldn't help but think as her glanced down her clothing, the blue dress, apron and black corset spelling out her unfortunate profession. Her fingers would go up to straighten the silver necklace that wrapped around her neck in that moment, a wiry sigh escaping her. 

"If only Mother and Father could see their daughter now." She grunted with a note of self depreciating humor before turning to pull the water flask from her pack. A moment would pass as she to a long sip from it, letting the water run down her throat before placing the flask once more back into its place as the sound of music filled the air. Morgana would give a faint smile at the tune of the mousefolk bard as she walked slowly to the front of her cart, her head peering out of the wagon and into the morning air.

The first sight that would great her was the Owlbear, a rather strange creature owned by another member of the traveling caravan. It was a strange sight to see being that it was the head of an owl upon the body of a bear but all the same she dared not pass any sort of judgement. After all her own figure was much akin to the creatures. Soon enough she would catch a glimpse of the owner of such a creature. Though mostly covered she could make out a pair of ears that came out from beneath his hood. Strangely enough they were nothing like an elves. In truth she had never seen such a thing in her time serving drinks. Then again the mousefolk bard last night was something new to her though the Half-Orc Druid at least brought some familiarity to her. 

Still with the day coming into being she would make her was slowly back towards her spot in the wagon, taking care once again to step over her fellow sleeping passenger. With a quick slinging motion she shouldered the backpack and made her way to the front of the wagon taking the time to count out her gold pieces. With a small frown she placed them back on the pouch at her belt quite unaware that this day would mark the start of something much greater than she could ever imagine....an adventure.

Summery:  Morgana has awoken in the second wagon and while having no one per say to speak with currently is trying to make a good start to her day. Most of the post simply goes on about her morning routine in the second wagon while she admires the scenery. Hopefully it's pretty good for a starter post.

[SuperCommando]

CHAPTER 1 – WELCOME TO THE DESSARIN VALLEY
PLAYER(S): BetaWülf , Faclan , Seraph , Zenith , Remnant , Huka

As Morgana poked her head out the front of the second wagon to peer at the breathtaking scenery, its driver turned to face her and smiled. This man was Deran, adult son of the old-timer driving the foremost wagon. His dark beard wasn't nearly as long, disheveled, or grey as his father's.

"Hello miss," he said to her before tuning to gaze out over the river as well. "Remarkable, isn't it? Can't get a view like this anywhere else in the whole region." Pointing off to the left, he continued by saying "Over there to the south are the Sumber Hills. Red Lark lies just beyond 'em. That's where we're headed, a'course. Anyway, hope ya slept well. Can I offer ya anything to eat? More biscuits, perhaps?"

((SUMMARY: Driver of second wagon speaks to Morgana.))

[Remnant]

Chapter One: Welcome to the Dessarin Valley
Theron Helix: Human Champion
Awakening

The fires of the city raged on, as one Veilas soldier after another charged into the frey. Countless citizens and soldiers alike were systematically massacred. Swords and shields clashed, blood sprayed into the air, and all Theron could do was simply watched. He felt disembodied. He willed his body to move, but it felt like stone. Unmoving. The only thing he could do was look around, but his position remained fixed.

It was as if he wasn't there. The Veilas invaders ignored him, and so did his comrades. He continually rotated his view, watching the tragedy unfold. Arkaus soldiers and citizens fell indiscriminately. It was horrible. He caught a glimpse of someone familiar, albeit rather far away. They cowered at the door of a house, trying to seek shelter. As a Veilas soldier crept behind them, he realized who it was. His wife, Lynda. She screamed as a sword slashed through the air, cutting her down.

"Mommy!" A voice called out. The voice belonged to a small figure, half the size of an average adult. Quickly, he realized who this was too. His daughter, Nyra. Nyra quickly ran into the shadows, evading the soldier, disappearing completely. Theron seethed with rage at the death of his wife.

"Greymane, behind you!" A soldier called out. Theron willed himself to move once more. It worked. He unsheathed his greatsword from his back, and turned around to block and incoming attack. He used to momentum to knock the sword out of his opponent's hand, causing them to stumble backwards. The soldier got on his hands and knees. However, before he could get up, Theron lifted up his blade, and brought it down on the soldier, beheading him.

He looked up to see a dozen more soldiers surrounding him. He attempted to bring his sword to bear, but the soldiers were faster. Everything went black as sound of a blade slashing through the air echoed in his ears.

Theron gasped for breath as he woke up intensively. He looked around, remembering he was in a wagon. Well, a caravan to be specific. He looked around to see if he had alarmed or alerted anyone. However, halfway through it, he opted to put his head into a shaking hand to calm down a little. He rubbed his eyes a little and shrugged off the rest of the terror that had stuck to him. He was alive. It was all just a dream. A nightmare. There was no need to fret about it.

((Summary: Theron wakes up from a nightmare, checks to see if he alerted or alarmed anyone, and proceeded to calm himself of any terror that remained. He's in the second wagon.))

((Note: Wasn't going to count this particular nightmare as a Night Terror Disadvantage, it was more just for roleplay purposes. DM can still count it if he wants, his rules. However, will roll a Night Terror check on any future Rests.))

[LaxKnight]

Meri, Wood Elf Rogue
CHAPTER 2 - Homeward Bound


The skittish Wood Elf saw that Nivara opened one red eye, then the other, and looked around with alert eyes before she settled down. At that Meri relaxed for just a moment until the Dragonborn decided she had enough riding and got off her mount to walk beside it. Meri sat for a moment before she got off as well, getting in step on the other side. She figured it wouldn’t be right if she rode on the Dragon-horse thing if she didn’t own it or get permission. She didn’t want to anger her new companion.

There was a while of walking where nothing was said. It’s been like this for a good portion of the trip. Nivara is fairly quiet and Meri doesn’t want to bother her. Instead she took to looking at how serene her surroundings. It was pretty this far out of town but it was simply too quiet for her. Sure it was nice once in awhile but she missed the familiar sounds of the town of Red Lark. The bustle of the caravans on the roads, the holler of merchants, and clatter of picks from the close by mines. If she closed her eyes she can almost hear them now. It wasn’t the greatest place to grow up in alone but it was home. They were close but how close? She slowed as she got on her tippy toes and put a hand over her eyes as she peered toward the horizon. Sadly, there were simply too many hills breaking the horizon and she was too short to see over them. “I know we’re not too far now,” she said.

Summary: Got off Dragon-horse thing, looking around, pondering how far they are. (Maybe have a conversation?)

[Faclan]

Chapter 1
Gonff, Mousefolk Bard - on the big ol Stone Bridge
Big tearing beak...

The flute music would stop momentarily as Gonff carefully hopped off the top of the wagon where he had been sitting down onto the bench beside Doran before transitioning to the stone bridge itself. Making sure he haddn't dropped anything Gonff would start playing again as he took some time to walk beside the trundling Caravan. But slowing down a little so it started to go past him and only picking up his pace when he was in between the two caravans on the side. To give those in the back caravan some more immediate music. Probably just appearing as little bobbing ears over the lip of the caravan that the flute music seemed to be coming from.

Now in between the wagons Gonff looked to the side to see some of the occupants, giving the three he could see a little wave before needing both his paws for playing before eyeing the owlbear trundling along and after a bit of staring tried to wave at that too. But it just looked at him with its huge eyes and large beak before just going back to walking along. It was a big unnerving to say the least. Something that big could easily flatten him and then go to work tearing him into easily eatable bits. And that was just the bear parts. With those eyes it could probably follow him through whatever he tried to run through and spot him in near darkness. So Gonff averted his eyes from the big animal and shivered a bit before going back to playing.

After a few more steps he looked back at the two in the back of the first wagon, what a motley crew indeed. But because he couldn't pick out a Bugbear from the ears and eyes alone - and because he only barely knew what a real Bugbear looked like as he generally just worked in story exaggerations of them - he had no idea he was looking at one. One who was likely rightfully annoyed with his bedtime story last night. So Gonff just smiled and nodded at him and the Half Orc, and the Human in the apron.


Summary: Still playing the flute, got off the front of the first wagon and is now on the birgde itself walking along, is now in between both wagons. Spooked out by the big owlbear and right beside Alder, Morgana, and Ruutok

[edtosivaree]

Nivara Fendrake
Chapter Two: Homeward Bound

Summary: Curious as to why Meri got off Brimstone but keeps it to herself. Attempts to start three awkward conversations.

Nivara watched the Wood Elf get of Brimstones back, tilting her head a little in confusion. She id not think that she gave the impression of wanting her off the Kirin, but she would not complain. The Kirin were indeed strong, but that didn't mean they didn't appreciate as much of a break as they could get. Her real concern was how skittish Meri seemed to be all the time. She looked around Brim to see what she was doing when the elf spoke.

"I know we're not too far away now"

Nivara stood straight again, looking around carefully. She didn't recognize a thing, let alone was she able to see anything of importance. "I will have to take your word for it..." She said, trying not to sound upset. She had learned that people often felt her aggressive when she spoke. "Where are we heading right now?" She asked, scanning the environment again to try and see whatever it may be that Meri saw. There had to be a way for her to tell where they were. "How can you even tell where we are?"

[SuperCommando]

CHAPTER 1 – WELCOME TO THE DESSARIN VALLEY
PLAYER(S): BetaWülf, Faclan, Seraph, Zenith, Remnant, Huka


As his little mouse feet touched down onto the stone of the bridge, Gonff would notice that its entire surface was etched with shallow engravings. No specific writings or images, just an elegant, intricate pattern of swirling designs. Not too deep to create an uneven ride, but just deep enough to provide a bit of texture so that the surface wasn’t completely smooth and dangerously slippery.

He would also likely notice that the stone was currently ever so slightly warm to the touch; perhaps bringing to the bard’s mind stories he’d heard about how when the weather gets colder, the bridge gets warmer, to the point that in the wintertime ice and snow are automatically melted and thus making the bridge safer for travelers year-round. It was little wonder that the bridge was often visited by Dwarven pilgrims who consider it to be a sacred relic, yet to this day nobody seemed to know the exact origins of the ancient structure.

In the second wagon, Deran started looking around behind his seat inside the wagon itself. After offering some biscuits to Morgana just now, he realized that he’d not yet eaten this day and could actually go for one himself. Yet upon failing to locate the sack they were kept in, he figured it to have been left in the first wagon.

“Oi! Diran! Fetch us the biscuits from the old man’s wagon for the lady, will ya?” He called over to his nearly-identical brother riding on horseback nearby.

“Aye,” the other man agreed. He trotted ahead and rode alongside his father. “Got them biscuits old man?”

Doran responded by reaching back for the sack and then tossing it into Diran’s awaiting grasp. “Jes make sure’n leave some for all.”

Diran nodded. Then, squinting ahead, he said, “Father, you see that?”

“See what? Ya know me eyesight ain’t what it used to be.”

“Oncoming caravan. Be sure to leave them some room.”

“Aye, thank ya my boy.”

As Diran returned to the second wagon (and passed the sack of biscuits to Deran who took one and passed them to Morgana), Doran turned to shout back over his shoulder once again. “All right y’all, there’s another caravan comin’ this way. This here being the only crossin’ of the Dessarin river from Womford to Yartar, sumthin like this happens every now and again. Gonna have to move close to one side, but there’ll be plenty of room so don’t none’a y’all worry. Jes’ gonna take it nice an’ slow.”


((The oncoming caravan is currently about 100ft away at this point. Doran positions your caravan on one side of the bridge (the right, from your perspective), and the other caravan moves to the other side (left).

SUMMARY: Gonff notices bridge details. An oncoming caravan appears ahead. Diran delivers biscuits to second wagon.))

[Huka]

Chapter One: Welcome to the Dessarin Valley
Lorban Amethysteye - Dwarven Cleric

Lorban Ameythsteye, kinsman of the mountain and clergy to its secret, awoke the brewing activity to match the beautiful almost alien scenery that deepened contrasted from the shaped caverns and dwarven-loved undergrounds of his former home. The rolling greenery, the crystal blue waters and most intense was the magnificent stone bridge that carried them so far. Lifting himself up with a tired heave from a casted blanket in the second wagon, the soft earthly brown and muted gold of his tunic catching the sunlight’s gaze. Ears filled with the flute pleasantries of their mousy bard for a time, yet over the beauty, he could almost feel a soft dankness like old rain molding under a garden’s fragrance. Enough that his hooked nose sniffed once to make sure it wasn’t the wagon’s wood, but it was simply the heightened senses of a learned warrior-priest.

Lips smacking under his braided mustache of burnt blonde, naturally dry until the tongue gifted it with morning moisture. Sleep hazed his sight for a time, but that didn’t last long while stretching long limbs. The toned muscles of training as both jewel craftsman and warrior coiled and loosened, joints popped and a bear’s yawn huffed past his lips.

Instinctively, his eyes drifted to his makeshift pillow – a thick sheet covering his battle garment and his small assortment of personal protection. Backpack furthering the cushioning. Despite the idle excitement, Lorban wasn’t quite ready to meet with the others yet. He took a small enjoyment of solitude before melding into their company. With that in mind, he turned over to his equipment with crossed legs. Organizing things here and there, chewing on a mint left with a goat-like grinding motion of his jaws, fitting socks and leather knee-high boots before replacing his sleeping sheep-wool shirt with a more proper tunic. This one somewhat more elaborate; the gold was given the honor of giving its full shine under the peeking sunlight while the brown linen was darker like wet soil. Plucked from his curtain of beard for the heavens' sight was a golden link holding the bejeweled mimicry of a vault's door, glinting with almost saintly reverence from the majestic tiny gems and silver framing.

Riding gloves fitting over his long fingers, the dwarf glanced at his gear and decided to strap the gold bracers and greaves over at the least. His hair still loose and draped over his lean shoulders like a lion’s mane, Lorban appears to all that he didn’t die in his sleep. “Morning…” He grumbles at the miraculous same time of the biscuit passing, his cranberry wine in hand and took a rocky sip to get a real taste of something to wet his whistle before catching sight of the biscuits, taking one for a nibble.

[LaxKnight]

Meri, Wood Elf Rogue
CHAPTER 2 - Homeward Bound


Meri was a little startled when Nivara spoke. The Dragonborn liked to keep to herself so if she asked she must be really bothered by it. “Well,” she began, “To answer your first question we are heading to Red Lark, my home. Closest thing anyway. I don't got a house. Or much of anything really...but it's where I grew up.”

She paused as she took another look around to pick out any landmarks she recognized. “As for how I know where we are, this is the biggest roads in the Valley and the biggest road in the Valley is called the Long Road,” she explained, “A lot of caravans go on this road since it goes through big towns. Also means a good amount of bandits though they weren't too much of a problem until recently…”

Meri’s thoughts trailed off as she tried to figure out why that was. There were some weird things going on but she couldn’t think of anything in particular. She shook her head to refocus herself. “Anyway, we passed a funny looking rock while you were sleeping and I remembered it meant I was close,” she said jerking a thumb backward

She remembered that rock specifically because it reminded her of the nasty Garlen’s nose. The thought brought a small smile to her lips.

Summary: Answering questions, missing home.

[edtosivaree]

Nivara Fendrake
Chapter Two: Homeward Bound

Summary: Just trying to be sociable. She isn't very good at it. Also, fairly arrogant.

Nivara nodded slowly, looking around in the same manner. Hearig about the bandits being a problem she chuckled. "Shame the bandits aren't being problems right now. I could certainly use some stupid soul to test my blade on" She jeered, being a little louder than normal. "I could use the gold to" She added, her voice returning to a normal volume. She seemed to have a fairly large case of battle lust. Given her appearance, that may not be quite the shocker.

With one hand almost exclusively rested on the hilt of her sword, she probably looked eager and foolish. Looking for a fight that she could not handle. Her life's training instilling an overinflated ego in regards to her combat prowess. She turns to Meri. "How well can you handle a sword?" She asked, looking the wood-elf over. "I assume not very well as you don't seem to be carrying one" she finished.

[LaxKnight]

Meri, Wood Elf Rogue
CHAPTER 2 - Homeward Bound


Meri shuddered at the thought of meeting more bandits. She hated confrontation in general but especially the violent kind. While Nivara seemed to be on the side that dealt the beatings for when she spoke about it she seemed enthusiastic and proud. It worried Meri for she knew all too well what it was like to be the victim and didn't wish that on anyone. When gold came up her pointed ears perked up as she remembered she had things on her that could be valuable. Maybe she could afford a decent meal by selling them to Endrith when she gets into town.

When the Dragonborn asked if she was any good with a sword it spooked Meri out of her current line of thought. Nivara wasn't wrong. Meri never handled a sword in her life. She could feel the Dragonborn’s red eyes probing to she how useful in a fight she was. Panic was reaching for her as she failed to think of anything when her elbow bumped something. Then she remembered. “I never been a fighter, considering I never won a fight,” she admitted glumly but gave a sheepish smile when she said, “But I’m okay with a bow.”

A shrug of her shoulder drew attention to the short bow slinged on it. She never used it much to fight people but it was handy getting out of jams like shooting a rope between a gap or climbing a wall.

Summary: Questioning worthy, answering questions. You know, typical stuff.

[SuperCommando]

CHAPTER 1 – WELCOME TO THE DESSARIN VALLEY
PLAYER(S): BetaWülf , Faclan , Seraph , Zenith , Remnant , Huka

Before long, the oncoming caravan hugging the other side of the bridge had begun to pass by. It also consisted of a pair of ox-drawn covered wagons, which currently had their canvas flaps drawn closed. Unlike Doran’s caravan, this one had no accompanying riders or pack animals tied to the wagons.

The two caravans moved slowly and carefully to avoid spooking the animals in close proximity. As the first wagon of the other caravan went by, Doran waved a hand at the other driver and offered a jolly “Good day,” only to receive a silent stare in reply.

As the second wagon of the other caravan neared, someone from the back hopped out of it and walked around to the side, positioning himself directly in front of Doran’s wagon. It was a human male with long messy black hair, and he wore a large navy blue poncho that billowed around him in the high-altitude breeze. He also wore a bulky metal mask that covered his face from the nose down, and appeared to have metal greaves protecting his legs. He lifted a gauntleted hand from under his poncho and held it outstretched in front of him, halting Doran’s oxen.

“Oi, outta the way!” Doran yelled. “What’r ya doin’! This ain’t the place to be messing around, boy!”

“Calm yourself old man,” spoke the driver of the other wagon, which came to a stop once the drivers’ seats of each wagon were side by side. The blonde man was shirtless, exposing an athletic body covered all over by tattoos of rolling ocean waves, and had a navy blue bandana tied around his forehead and a sash the same color tied around his waist. He stood up in his seat, rubbing his scruffy goatee as he sized up Doran’s caravan. “We just want to ask a few questions, is all. But first…”

At that point, the flaps at the front and back of the other wagons were thrown open. Inside were men with faces hidden by scarves or hoods, and they were armed with crossbows that were aimed threateningly at anyone out in the open.

“…Everybody get out of those wagons. Right now!” He demanded. “Get on your knees on the bridge. Don’t dawdle, or somebody’s gonna get shot!”



((Just to give you guys a general idea of where everything is I threw together a very, VERY, crude map. Be advised there is no scale whatsoever and placement might not be exact, but again the point is just to show general positioning.))

SPOILER: Click to show

Reddish brown rectangles are wagons.
Light brown rectangles are oxen.
Beige rectangles are horses.
Green rectangle is Alder's Owlbear.
Alder and Ruutok are in Wagon #1 with Doran driving.
Morgana, Theron, and Lorban are in Wagon #2 with Deran driving.
The horse behind Wagon #2 is a typo, should say "Daran" (another of Doran's sons)
Gonff is on the bridge between the wagons.

All wagons are stopped. Crossbowmen are in the enemy wagons.

The shirtless guy is demanding that the players move to the area above where Diran's horse currently is for interrogation.

((If anybody wants to make a particular ability check, remember to make note of it in your post summary.))

[edtosivaree]

Nivara Fendrake
Chapter Two: Homeward Bound

Nivara listened to the Wood-Elf speak, narrowing her eyes a little. When she went silent, the large Dragonborn just shook her head. "Well, that is going to have to change. Isn't it?" She asked as they walked. She looked around, curious as to how long they have left to wait. "Maybe next time we camp I will be able to show you some things you can do. Can't go through life hiding. You will eventually need to fight" She said, still keeping a steady eye on the horizon. "And if you need to fight, then there is almost a sure fire chance that you will need to kill someone. Do you think that is within your capabilities?" She asked, her voice going a little cold.

[Zenith]

Chapter 1: WELCOME TO THE DESSARIN VALLEY

Morgana Cromren, Human Fighter/Currently a Bar Maid

Traversing the Stone Bridge

In Good Health - A Pause In The Journey

---

A rather friendly voice would greet Morgana as she peered from the front of the Caravan Wagon causing her to jump slightly before turning to view the man who greeted her. Turning her head slightly she would come to see her driver Deran looking over at her. The woman would give the man a smile and a pleasant nod as she glanced out over the master work of stone that was the bridge. "It is certainly beautiful... To be truthful with you I have never seen something like this. Was a bit of a shut in when I was a little girl." She managed to laugh as she would pause at the drivers offer. "Only if you have some to spare. I wouldn't wish to take more than my share of the lot. Besides I already owe you and your father dearly for the journey." She finished with a small smile before turning her gaze once more outwards to the terrain as it passed by.  It would still be some time before they reached their destination but for now Morgana felt content with simply just enjoying the journey. 

However a sound from the back of the wagon would catch the woman's attention as slowly she would pull back the flap of wagon to view the once sleeping man who had now awoken with what seemed to be quite a start. He was a middle aged man, in which one could guess somewhere in his thirties in appearance. It was only upon examining his attire that Morgana would eye him carefully. Chain mail was not a new sight to her as the woman did own her own set. More than that she understood the position it took to afford or be given such armor, that was unless he looted it off a corpse. Either answer however made the man dangerous though in the end Morgana's naive want to see if he was alright won out over caution. Carefully she would make her way back into the wagon from the passengers seat her eyes focused on the seemingly startled man as she approached. 

On she was near him she would slowly offer him her waterskin in a slow motion as she was trying not to startle the poor man. "Here...it will help hopefully." She offered up before setting the waterskin gently in front of the man, her eyes looking him over as if to check if he was alright. Finally after a few seconds had passed she seemed to relent somewhat, standing up as far a she could in the wagon and moving back up towards the driver seat. Upon reaching the seat however she would come upon a pleasant surprise of the biscuit bag, which upon receiving she would take two before passing the bag back to the nearby dwarf who had seemingly just awoken from his slumber. "Good Morning, I assume you slept well?" She replied to the Cleric's greeting with a small smile of greeting, glancing back at the figure who was seemingly still trying to wake up. 

Yet before she could continue her conversation the caravan seemed to slow as in the distance another lonely caravan seemed to cross along the adjacent side of the bridge. Morgana tilted her head slightly as they had not seen a caravan like their own in many miles though it was not impossible for one to be heading from were they came. If anything it was something that caught her attention though at this point it worried her no more than the weather. Morganna once more took up a position towards the front of her wagon before catching sight of the mousefolk bard, the half orc and the mysterious cloaked man from the night before. To each she would give a small smile of greeting before calling out to the bard. "You are a very good story teller and musician, though you must remind me next time we stop to request a tune. That is of course if you are willing."

However she would not have time to speak with him much longer, as soon all hell would break loose. It started when the two caravans passed one another though the caravan she would be riding on on would soon come to a halt. With that the sides of the passing caravan would bristle with crossbows. Instinctively her hand would go for her dagger at her belt though she quite frankly knew it would be of no use to her if things got heated unless she managed to get close to one of them. She lacked her sword, shield, armor or morning star as they were safely tucked away and hidden with her bag in the wagon. The woman cast a glance at her driver slowly before looking back at their attackers. This was not good at all.... 

 

[Faclan]

Chapter 1
Gonff, Mousefolk Bard - on the big ol Stone Bridge
Trying to prepare some Peace.

Taking some time to look at the surface he was walking on rather than the big spooky Owlbear, still playing the flute as he kept his arms and head in the same orientation so he could easily continue to play, Gonff was surprised by it. The last time he had stumbled and staggered across the bridge in the dark he hadn't noticed any of this. The etchings were strangely beautiful even if they didn't seem to mean anything. And probably helped him not fall to his death that night. So good on the makers of the bridge to include some texture when you were just trying to walk along it. The heat didn't register much with Gonff unfortunately as he just assumed it had been warmed up by the early dawn - and when he traveled across it during the rain he had been too wet and cold to feel the heat much then. But at least he noted some things as he looked back at the caravan to see the biscuits being passed around.

Looking back at the second caravan Gonff offered the same wave and nod to the Dwarf in armor before looking back ahead to see that they were going to have company on the bridge today. But Gonff didn't think much of it really as he kept pattering along and playing. He did look back when the Human female spoke out to him in a very kind compliment as he stopped the music to smile and give her a proper reply as he moved a bit closer to the second wagon and looked up at her.

"Very kind of you Miss - of you know the name of the song you would like to hear or have a general feel of music you want to hear I'd be more than happy to try and play it for you." He replied with, all smiles before he glanced forward when he could hear Doran yelling at someone...also noting that the first Caravan had stopped.

The situation rapidly taking a turn for the worst as the caravans opened to reveal weapons pointed at all of them. He could barely hear the person that seemed to be leading this group that they wanted to ask questions...But why would there be so many crossbows if this was just questions. Looked a lot more like a robbery to Gonff. But they haddn't fired any warning shots yet so many it wasn't? So hard to tell with Humans...and now the Mousefolk was quickly reminded that his crossbow was still attached to his backpack in the first wagon and all he had on him was his flute and a dagger up his sleeve. So he was at a big disadvantage against those pointy stick chuckers.

Carefully and slowly putting his flute back into its small holder on his belt Gonff looked back at the female Human near him and bit his lips a bit as he whispered to her, but since he was right beside her probably only her and Deran heard him.

"If this is just questions they should let us pass...but should this turn into a robbery I will try and calm down everyone...If I do I will need to keep concentrating to keep it up, get the caravans moving and scoop me up please as you leave." And with that he moved back to be more between the carts as he raised up his handpaws but didn't go down to his knees yet as he seemed to be focusing a spot about ten feet to the South, where the most amount of people would be able to directly see him for when he did Calm Emotions - should it come to that. Whilst also taking deep breaths, likely seen as fear from the tiny weak mouse, as he made sure he had the air in his lungs for his Speech of Peace...He had never tried it on this many spectators before, and really hoped he wouldn't be full of bolts in a minute or so.


Summary: Has stopped playing, happily responded to Morgana (a new friend perhaps), wondering why the bandits need crossbows for questions. Whispered a plan of Calm Emotions to Morgana and Deran and is staring the focus and concentrating needed to attempt the spell, looking at a spot just above him on the little map to run before using the spell. So the most amount of people can directly see him to be calmed down. Also thinking about the speech he will do to try and calm EVERYONE down.

And a random Gnolly Bard :> Link

[Seraph]

Chapter One:
Ruutok, of the Ogaidu: Half-Orc Druid
Like a wolf in wait for it's prey.

     From his seat Ruutok sat back and watched as his view or the world rolled by. Admiring the fair morning weather accompanied by the piping flute of the little Mouseman's melody helped the shaman to relax and forget the visions of his troubled sleep. Looking back toward the other wagon Ruutok would notice the flute toting Story Teller then as they offered a wave as they sung notes on their pipe. The half-orc, appreciating the accompanying minstrel's talent, the shaman returned the gesture with a small wave of his hand as he smiled lightly. Turning his gaze to the sky he merely watched as the sparse clouds rolled by and contemplating thoughts and just letting his thoughts wander.

     Ruutok always held a great appreciation for the wonders of the world and its natural beauty. Rolling the hood of his head he relished the feeling of the wind blowing through his dark ashen locks. The sun peaking over the wagons felt warm on face which was lightly etched with lines of mild age, under his brown eyes hung dark bags of many rough nights as they scanned the skies, his murky greenish skin which resembled pea soup appeared yellow in the dawn light. On him he wore simple clothes: a light woolen shirt and a pair of baggy brown breaches made of cloth that made little sound when moving, he wore a thin off-white jacket bereft of sleeves that hung down to his knees, a pair of leather wraps to protect his feet and yet allowed him to feel the ground beneath his toes. A thick, gray fur blanket was draped over him like a shawl he held closed with one hand while in the other held a roughly carved staff made of red cedar with small charms dangled around its neck. But over that he wore a worn breastplate of cured leather under the coat, a pair of hide chaps, and a pair of leather vambraces.

     Every bit of the shaman's rustic appearance made him appear as someone accustomed to the outdoors with travel worn clothes and unkempt hair which was shaggy and hung over his shoulders in tangles and loose braids. A fair bit of thick stubble covering his strong face. Among some other traits that may have betrayed his heritage there were a pair of small tusk like teeth that poked out from under his lips. Yet despite Ruutok's rough exterior there was an air of calm about him that was reflected in his light smile and wizened stare. And even when sitting he would still lean heavily on his staff.

     Despite having been with the caravan for some time ever since kind 'ole Doran had picked him up by the road side the aged Half-Orc had not shared much about his reasons traveling this far out by himself. Nor did he give much hint as to the true nature of his abilities, Yet he had been helpful where he may along the journey with small kindnesses. Or occasionally sharing bits of stories of his travels to the frontier lands. But never did he tell much of his origins either, preferring contemplative solitude as they traveled. Yet never had he expressed any ill will while maintaining a reserved demeanor.

     Today seemed as if it would be no different than yet another peaceful morning of travel. Ruutok was broken from his thoughts however when a call came from the front of the wagon by Doran to organize the caravan for another oncoming band of wagons. Ruutok turned his head to look to the front of the wagon to catch only a glimpse of a shape approaching on the bridge. He listened as the additional hoof-beats of heavy oxen and wooden wheels on stone joined their own. He even watched as one of the new wagons pass before suddenly their own wagon came to an abrupt halt. Though he was curious the shaman did not stand or move from his seat to look at what was going on and instead decided to patiently wait as an exchange of raised voices began around him. One of the men speaking he knew to be Doran, but the other two he was not familiar with.

     Even as one of the new voices called out for the caravaners to climb out of the wagons and proceed to get down on the ground Ruutok gave a silent huff as his expression quickly hardened and his brow furrowed. What nonsense was this? The shaman looked out the back to see Gonff the Mouseman stow his flute and raise his arms in a similar gesture of surrender as the rest of the people Ruutok could see were looking at something he could not. Immediately the shaman was beginning to suspect that whoever these strangers perhaps had not the best of intentions to stop their caravan this way. Nor did he like the men's tone of voice. Ruutok huffed his dissatisfaction again.

     "Friend..." The shaman whispered, tapping on the shoulder of his larger companion he sat next to. "Be not alarmed nor tell them I am here." Ruutok spoke softly to Alder before the Half-Orc shifted his seating to sit behind the large man on the bench and shrank into the corner of the wagon to keep out of sight. There he grew still as he bowed his head clutching the staff tightly in both hands and began to quietly murmur something in soft whispers.

     The shaman began to pray to the spirits bidding them for aid in this time of need and to cast a veil of concealment over them. Feeling the power of the spirits filling him Ruutok opened his eyes and released the spell to cast 'Pass Without Trace' in hopes of protecting the other members of Doran's caravan inside the wagons. He dared not to cast the veil of obscurity over those already in plain sight to not arouse suspicion from the strangers. Holding onto his concentration of the a veil soundless wispy air obscuring Ruutok, Alder, and the occupants of the second wagon, should they be in range, that seemed to muffle any sound they made and allowed their physical forms appear visibly fainter.

     With that The Half-Orc dared move again, but without making a sound as he gestured to Gonff and Diran who sat on his horse behind the wagon to remain silent of his actions.

     "This veil shall obscure, but it will not hide you if caught out in the open. Like the prowling wolf we may pass until the time is right strike our pray." whispered the shaman before passing Alder and slipping out the back of the cart. Attempting to remain unnoticed as he moved, Ruutok hoped the Owlbear and Diran's horse would cover him enough from view. He slipped out and ducked around the side of the wagon near the edge of the bridge where he squatted in wait before slipping underneath the wagon. The shaman had with him his staff in hand and a sling with a pouch of bullets on his belt to be ready for trouble.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
((Summary:Mostly just some general description of Ruutok's character and his time so far with the caravan. At the first sign of trouble Ruutok came up with the idea that should something happen he called upon the aid of the spirits of the land to cast "Pass Without Trace". Everyone within range inside of the friendly wagons gain a '+10 to Dexterity (Stealth) checks. Ruutok then proceeds to slip out of the first wagon and around the outside along the bridge's edge to hide underneath it in wait for possible ambush should things turn sour.)

[SuperCommando]

CHAPTER 1
((Will edit in tags and formatting later, on my phone right now. Just wanted to get in a quick update.))

RUUTOK DEXTERITY (STEALTH) CHECK: (1d20+12) (11) [23]

The half-orc was a ghost as he slipped into his hiding spot, unnoticed by any of the strangers due to the magical aid of his stealthy spell. He received a knowing glance from Diran while exiting the back of the wagon, but Doran's son had enough presense of mind to direct his gaze elsewhere and feign ignorance so as not to betray Ruutok's activity.

((Spell description for Pass Without Trace says it has a range of 30ft from the caster, so I'm going to have to rule that it's reach isn't far enough to affect the players in Wagon #2. The only person not in the open that it can reach is Alder. Probably for the better, as Shirtless Guy and his goons can currently see into Wagon #2 and might get suspicious if their forms were to become hazy from the spell.))

At this time, a man who had until now been fast asleep in the back of the second wagon now began to sit up.

"I say, whatever seams to be the matter? Have we presently stopped for brunch?"

This man, who went by the name Abel Hawthorne, had been with the caravan before any of the other travelers. He was a courteous fellow whose chipper demeanor sometimes clashed with the fact that he was apparently some type of warrior - he wore a shirt of chainmail beneath a sky blue surcoat, and had a longsword sheathed at his side at all times. Yet when previously questioned as to his stature, he would simply describe himself as "an agent of Mirabar", and nothing more.

Hawthorne had slicked-back dark hair and a well-groomed mustache, which he now traced with his thumb and pointer finger as sort of a nervous habit as he looked to nearby Theron, Lorban, and Morgana with a questioning gaze.

Meanwhile, faced with glinting crossbow bolts aimed at them, Doran and his sons cautiously and reluctantly did as the shirtless stranger bade them to, dismounting from their wagons and horses as they gathered with Gonff in front of the shirtless man's wagon.

"There you go, that's it," the man said, placing one fist on his hip while he gestured with the other hand as he talked. His tone of voice was actually quite mellow, all things considered, as if he was bored or even annoyed by the situation. "Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can all be on our way. Just want to make sure nobody's gonna try to pull a fast one on us before we get a chance to have us a little chit-chat."

He held his hand out and beckoned with it at each of the two wagons of Doran's stationary caravan. "Come on now, I know there's more of you in there. Don't be shy..."

[Remnant]

Chapter One: Welcome to Dessarin Valley
Theron Helix: Human Champion
Trouble

Theron looked up to see another member of the Caravan approach him. She must of heard him waking up from a nightmare. "Here...it will help hopefully." She said, as she lent him her waterskin. Theron glanced at it, shrugged, and took a swig. He handed the waterskin back to her, and stood up as far as he could. He smelled food, and traveled to the front of the wagon. He came across a pleasant surprise in the form of biscuits. He took one for himself, and was about to sit down when the caravan started to slow. He looked at the first wagon, and noticed the bard in the middle. Theron smiled slightly, as music was always a nice thing to him. It always cheered him up, somehow, no matter the circumstance.

He noticed the second Caravan further ahead, moving towards them. As a precaution, he moved back to where he slept, and looked for his sheathed greatsword. He unsheathed the sword, then carefully strapped the sheath on his back, and once again sheathed the sword afterwards. He moved back to the front of the caravan, and watched as the second one began to pass, before abruptly stopping theirs. The two opposing wagons' flaps opened up, revealing men with crossbows. Theron grunted as he took a bite out of his biscuit, savoring the taste somewhat.

"Here's where the fun begins." Theron muttered, as he promptly ate the rest of his biscuit.

"I say, whatever seams to be the matter? Have we presently stopped for brunch?"
 A voice called from behind him.

Theron turned to see Abel Hawthorne, a man who had been with the Caravan beforehand. The man had an odd... 'aura' about him. He had a chipper demeanor yet he was clearly a warrior, judging from the chainmail and longsword. Anytime Theron had questioned the man about his stature, he simply said he was "an agent of Mirabar".

"If I were to guess, I'd say we're about to be robbed." Theron said with a rather smug look. It was more directed towards the opposing caravan than the man he was facing. "On the topic of brunch, however, have a biscuit." Theron said, casually tossing Abel a biscuit from the biscuit bag.

“…Everybody get out of those wagons. Right now!” The shirtless man from the opposing caravan shouted. “Get on your knees on the bridge. Don’t dawdle, or somebody’s gonna get shot!”

Theron grunted, chuckled even. Sounded like some poor lad was asking for trouble. Truth be told, Theron personally thought he was about to get more than he bargained for. But he quickly put those thoughts aside. Those with a high-and-mighty attitude are normally the ones to fall first.

The shirtless man held his hand out and beckoned with it at each of the two wagons of Doran's stationary caravan. "Come on now, I know there's more of you in there. Don't be shy..."

Theron sighed, and proceeded to step out of the Caravan. He gestured to the others in the wagon. "Best to do what they say for now. If I'm not mistaken, we're a little outnumbered." Theron whispered towards them.

Today was going to be a long day.


((Summary: [Going to assume a Waterskin is a type of drink-holder.] Takes a swig from the offered Waterskin, heads to the front of the wagon, takes a biscuit, notices the second caravan, goes back to where he slept, looks for his sheathed greatsword, takes the sword out of the sheath and lays it down, straps the sheath onto his back, and once again sheaths the greatsword.

Moves back to the front of the wagon, and eats his biscuit while saying a one-liner. Also acknowledges Abel and tosses him a biscuit, then proceeds to step out of the wagon, per Shirtless Guy's orders. He also gestures to those still inside the second wagon, whispering that'd it'd be best to do what they say, as they were currently outnumbered.))

[BetaWülf]

Chapter One
Alder Spinebreker: Bugbear Barbarian
Inconvenience

Alder watched as the Mousefolk bard eyed his Owlbear, and the Owlbear in turn regarding the rodent man momentarily. The Bugbear sighed in relief that his companion did not try to eat the smaller creature, back home in the Edge the common Owlbear diet consisted primarily of gophers and lemmings, mixed in with fish and the occasional ungulate. He shook his head and chuckled.

Alder looked to his side when the Half-Orc that also traveled with the caravan spoke to him, asking him if he'd have ever believed such a thing as this bridge could exist. Alder shook his head "A year ago I would've said it impossible, but in my travels into these Southern lands I have seen many wonders" he said with a slight dancing in his eyes.

However, it was not long before everything seemed to go to shit. The caravan stopped as they were being passed by another one, which also stopped. Highwaymen. 'Fuck me running' ran through Alder's head, this was not a good thing, not at all. He'd likely be revealed for what he truly was to the others, and these bandits were more likely to shoot him just because they could.

Alder was taken back to reality from his thoughts when he was tapped on the shoulder, looking back he saw the Half-Orc again. "Friend..." the Half-Orc whispered to Alder "Be not alarmed nor tell them I am here." Alder simply nodded in silent recognition, taking note that he was beside not only a Half-Orc, but that said Half-Orc was also a Shaman.

Alder looked at the Human male that heeded them to follow the instructions of their aggressors. Alder nodded, silently slipping off the tailgate he sat upon before giving his Owlbear a look to be on edge but to stay calm. The Owlbear stared at him before blinking its clear horizontal eyelids. Alder sighed before moving out into the open with his open hands outstretched. He got down onto his knees beside the others, placing his Morningstar on the ground beside himself.

Alder hoped his covered face would be left alone by the highwaymen, since he was wearing a hood with a bandana covering everything lower than his eyes.


Summary: Alder basically just listens to everyone and hopes he doesn't get outed for being what he is, goes and gets on his knees beside everyone and places his Morningstar on the ground in front of himself with his hands behind his back.

[SuperCommando]

CHAPTER 2 – HOMEWARD BOUND
PLAYER(S): LaxKnight , edtosivaree

By this point the elf and the dragonborn would notice that as they've been talking the light morning mist they'd been traveling through had still not yet dissipated even in the slightest. In fact, its behavior was exactly opposite of the norm. Despite the daylight growing steadily brighter, the mist actually appeared to be getting worse...



((A fog is forming that will grow thicker with each following post in this session (So just count Chapter 2 posts).

The fog is currently still a slight mist as described in Lax's first post, even though the sun should have burned it away by now.

The next time someone posts it will have risen as high as Brimstone's back and become a little thicker.

On the second post from now it will fill the air and will appear similar to the steam rising off a hotspring.

And on the third post from now, the fog will obscure the area, imposing Disadvantage on Perception checks based on sight.))

[LaxKnight]

Meri, Wood Elf Rogue
CHAPTER 2 - Homeward Bound


Meri’s sheepish smile quickly disintegrated when Nivara’s red eyes narrowed then she looked down in mild shame when she shook her head in dismay. She figured her lack of martial ability would disappoint her warlike companion. The Dragonborn mentioned something about teaching her some things when they make another camp then added the fact that she will have to fight eventually and can’t always hide from them. So far Meri has gone through most of her life hiding and while it was a lonely and depressing life, she liked to think she was doing okay. Not good by any means but it could be worse. It can always get worse. However the idea of learning from her seemed neat. Some together time to build their friendship though Meri had a feeling they would both wouldn’t enjoy it much.

When the topic of killing came up Meri shook her head. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” she said. Life was precious, it shouldn’t be spent so casually as probably Nivara was used to. Maybe she can scare someone or shoo them away so they stop beating her up but killing someone? Unimaginable.

It was at this point that Meri noticed that the mist hasn’t let up even though the sun was clear from the hills. In fact, it seemed to be turning into fog. It was starting to get a little thick to the point where it was beginning to become difficult to see through. Something inside her, her ‘danger sense’, told her this didn’t seem right. She put a hand over her eyes as she tried to squint through the thickening fog to possibly detect whatever the source was.

Summary: Not jigging with the whole ‘fighting and killing’ thing, noticing the mist thickening, using Perception to try and find the source before it gets too bad.

[edtosivaree]

Nivara Fendrake
Chapter Two: Homeward Bound

Nivara snorted violently after hearing the elf say she didn't want to kill anyone. "Valliant ideals. If only the world could work like that. However... I have a feeling that your morals aren't going to live much longer..." She stated hoarsely as the fog grew unnaturally dense. She noticed that Meri was looking for something in the mist. It was bright and sunny, the fog should have been evaporating, not getting thicker. She also searched around, but she suspected magic was at foot. She systematically cycled through her knowledge of magic to figure out what causing the fog. Slowly, she drew her sword.

"Get on Brimstone... I have a bad feeling about this and I'm going to want you out of the way if you really don't know how to fight. If you know how to use that bow of yours, though, don't hesitate if you wind up having to use it" She ordered. She was positive this fog was magical, she just had nothing to base her assumption on. Better safe than sorry, though. "Also, tell me if you see anyone" She added.

Summary: Finds Meri to be Naive, but understands why. Very nervous about the fog, using perception as well as Arcana if applicable.