# Forum > Play-by-Post Games > Ongoing Games (In-Character) >  IC - Ginneron's Fog

## Awful

*


GINNERON'S FOG
CHAPTER ONE: THOSE HUNGERING MISTS*

*Spoiler: Recruitment OP*
Show


 
Three months ago, the earth shook. 
The seas thrashed and hissed against the shore. 
Beasts in the fields and wounds howled and ran madly.
A great and terrible curse has swept over the land. 

Mist that does not lift has swallowed the Kingdom of Ginneron.
Those few who emerge from inside tell grim tales of monsters. 
Nameless beasts stalk the fog. 
The dead walk and sing of hunger for the living.
Men go mad, turning blade and fist and teeth against their kin.

For now, the Fog has not spread beyond Ginneron's borders, but something must be done.
Paladins hearing a holy call.... 
Brave souls seeking family lost within.... 
Vagabonds dreaming of now-ownerless treasures...

All alike have gathered at the border, preparing to delve into-
 
*GINNERON'S FOG*
 


This is a dnd 5e game, played by post on these forums. Assembled at a  refugee camp on the border, you and a few others intend to venture into  the Fog that has swallowed a kingdom whole - to find the source of the  mystery.

Recruitment will be open for two weeks. It's not first come first serve.

There'll be a discord server for OOC, if that's a dealbreaker.

If I've missed anything vital in the information below, let me know.

*Spoiler: Important Lore Elements*
Show


*Ginneron*
_- Blessed be this land, from high to low - 
_

A small and somewhat unimportant kingdom tucked into the great crater  made by the ring of the Tulback Mountains, surrounded by oceans in all  ways but the south. The west of it is open to the sea; all other  approaches must come through the passes to the south, connecting to the  Ploughlands. The ground, pebbly and poorly fertile, is oft wooded and  sparsely populated, but sheltered in its bowl of mountains the winter  weather is surprisingly mild.

There was once a kingdom of giants in Ginneron, and the central capital  city, Gantset, is built in and around the ruins of that colossal palace.  The Giant's Spire, three miles high, acts as the palace and  administration centre, though the higher levels are abandoned and  ruined. Here can be found the Cathedra, the seat of power for the church  and the Conclave that administers it.

There are two other cities in Ginneron. The coastal city of Wavebreak is  tucked against the southern mountains, a bustling port city that has a  lively trade with the Ploughlands. From here, Ginneron's tiny navy is  based, mainly sailing against reavers that occasionally raid the shores.  The third city, lodged in the north-east of the kingdom, is called  Vargmount, and its mines provide much of the metal used in the land -  iron, gold, and copper.

The people of Ginneron and the state religion worship the God-in-Two,  the Duality. It is said the royal family were directly chosen by the  hand of the Duality, and should they rule with greed and cruelty, that  same hand will strike them down. The current king is King Balthe, a  young man who inherited after the death of the old Queen. He is married  to King's-Consort Sophia, but they have no children so far.

Like its neighbouring land, near the mountains, beast-cults can be  found, lauding the strength and nature of beasts, and honouring the old  spirits of nature found in the distant craggy places of the world.

The Fog seems to have begun in the heart of the kingdom, and rapidly  spread over a month until the entire realm was submerged within the  mist.
*
The Isthman Ploughlands*
_- Take up not the sword! -
_ 

A sprawling lowland nation, fertile from long-extinct volcanoes. The  Isthmen are a collection of city-states bound under an elected  Over-Prince, founded by a legendary hero who, under instructions from  the divine, beat their blessed sword into a ploughshare after a long  exodus from a distant land.

There is no standing military in the Ploughlands; but following the  legacy of the ancient nameless hero, paladin orders thrive there,  enforcing law, defeating evil, and sometimes coming to blows when they  have opposing notions of justice. 

The most common religion in the Ploughlands is the Duality, but a  surprising number near the mountain borders worship in beast-cults -  openly or secretly. It is hardly unknown for worshippers in the secluded  countryside to be both beast-cultic and worship at the chapels of the  God-in-Two; one takes all the help they can get.

*The God-In-Two*

Life and Death, Summer and Winter, Peace and War - the duality of things  is embodied in the God-In-Two, worshipped and placated. They are a  distant god, not given to direct words and messages. Most of the  priesthood are capable of only the smallest magic, and those with great  talent in calling forth miracles are often likely to find themselves a  higher rank in the church.

The churches for the Duality are, perhaps fittingly, split between the  Cathedra of Ginneron and Isthman, both claiming to be the final  authority on the word of the God-In-Two.

*The Beast-Cults*

In the untamed places of the world can be found spirits of power,  embodied in the forms of animals. The Beast-cults venerate these as  exemplars of life, striving to honour and recieve the blessings of these  beings. While not officially illegal, it is frowned upon by the  Cathedras, but it is not unknown for rural folk to double-dip, so to  speak.

There is and can be no overarching organisation for Beast-cult worship,  so the symbols, beliefs, and precipts change depending on the beast  spirit.

*Monsters

*That which is imimical to man is often given the label of 'monster'. 
Of these, many kinds are known.
The dragon, rare and fearsome, with a unyielding hunger for treasure of all kinds.
The demon, a cancerous poison, crawling from accursed places.
The devil, a rare and dreadful thing, bargaining with men for their very souls. 
The undead, something trapped between life and death.

All these are told of in stories, but most have only encountered the  dangers of the common man - the cold, the hunger, and the bite of beast  and bandit.



*Spoiler: Known Peoples*
Show



*Humans*

They're humans; more or less exceptional. The most common people to be found about Ginneron and the Ploughlands.

*Greenskins*

Orcs (female) and Goblins (male) are, against the expectations of many,  the same species. In truth, no less intelligent than a man, they dwelled  in these lands long before humans crossed the sea. Thousands of years  of conflict have driven them out of the more fertile lowlands into the  mountains and valleys, where the terrain means no military force has  ever been able to force them out. Some clans have made great profit,  selling sword-arms, escorting merchants and travellers through the  mountains, or simply charging a toll for passage through the passes  between the two lands.

Some have integrated into human society, and at least one city in the Ploughlands kneels to an orcish Lord.

The majority hold to the beast-cults, venerating aspects of natural spirits for strength and protection.

Their offspring with humans, whether orc or goblin, creates half-orcs,  but like mules, half-orcs can make no children of their own.

*Giantbloods

*Some humans in Ginneron claim descent from the remains of the  ancient kingdom of giants that existed before Ginneron intself; the  remmants crossbreeding with the newly arrived humans. While the  mechanics of such are questionable, the existence of giantbloods is not;  their great strength and endurance makes them greatly prized by any who  need such power.

Few are found outside Ginneron, but over the course of centuries, some  have migrated back and forth between the Ploughlands and Ginneron. While  uncommon, sometimes a giantblood is born to a Ginneronic family with no  known history of it, provoking theories it may be the influence of the  land itself - but there is little proof for such a claim.

Use goliaths if you want to make a giantblood.

*Other beings

*There are other, strange folk about, sometimes; coming from the  distant lands across the sea, as humans once did, but what reason do  they to delve the Fog? 




*Spoiler: Big 16*
Show


*1. What game system are you running (D&D, Call of Cthulu,    Palladium, GURPS, etc.), and if applicable what edition (Original,    Classic, Revised, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 5th, 10th, etc.)?*
D&D 5E

*2. What 'type' or variant of game will it be (i.e. "Shadow   Chasers"  or "Agents of Psi" for d20 Modern)? What is the setting for  the  game  (eg. historic period, published or homebrewed campaign  setting,   alternate reality, modern world, etc.)?*
A homebrew setting. Details are pretty fluid outside whats been    established in the previous spoiler. Gameplay will be mostly roleplay    and combat.

*3. How many Players are you looking for? Will you be taking alternates, and if so, how many?*
Four-ish. If players drop out Ill ping anyone who didnt get in to see if theyre interested.

*4. What's the gaming medium (OOTS, chat, e-mail etc.)?*
Play-by-post on this forum.

*5. What is the characters' starting status (i.e. experience level)?*
Level 5, levelling by milestone.

*6. How much gold or other starting funds will the characters begin with?*
Starting equipment as standard. You can exchange starting equipment for    full value. You also get 100 extra gold to spend freely and a common    magic item of your choice. 

*7. Are there any particular character classes, professions,   orders,  etc. that you want... or do not want? What are your rules on   'prestige'  and/or homebrewed classes?*

 No warlocks, bards, wizards or sorcerers, please. 

No homebrew (or UA), please.

*8. What races, subraces, species, etc. are allowed for your   game?  Will you allow homebrewed races or species? 'Prestige' races or    species?*
See lore for the main races about. It's a reduced number from a normal  game, but if you can swing me something interesting, I'll definitely  consider other things.

*9. By what method should Players generate their attributes/ability scores and Hit Points?*
Standard array. Take average HP, max first level. 

*10. Does your game use alignment? What are your restrictions, if so?*
Alignment is irrelevant, but the character must have the *ability and motive* to properly work with others.  

*11. Do you allow multi-classing, or have any particular rules in regards to it?*
Multi-classing is allowed under standard multi-classing rules, just remember the class restrictions.

*12. Will you be doing all of the die rolling during the course   of  the game? Will die rolls be altered, or left to the honor system? If    players can make die rolls, which ones do they make, how should they    make the rolls, and how should they report them?*
Roll on the forums in the ooc thread or in the discord channel I'll make for the game.

*13. Are there any homebrewed or optional/variant rules that   your  Players should know about? If so, list and explain them, or  provide   relevant links to learn about these new rules.*

Everyone starts with a bonus feat.

All characters can cast spells from scrolls as long  as they pass an  arcana check DC of 10+(2xscroll level). Failing by 5 or less renders the  person failing unable to use that particular scroll. Failing by more  than 5 destroys the scroll.

Knowledge and arcana clerics can choose to use Int as their casting  stat. This is decided before game start and cannot be changed.

Banned spells:
Goodberry
Guidance
Wish
Anything from Strixhaven
Eldritch Blast

 A few little changes to weapons: 
Spears have reach.  
 Tridents do a d8/d10 to match longswords.  
A dagger can be wielded in the offhand even if the primary weapon isn't Light. 

Feats: 
The Parry feat also works with a shield.
Great Weapon Master can apply to a versatile weapon wielded in two hands.  
 Polearm master requires the weapon to be wielded in two hands to allow the bonus action attack.

*14. Is a character background required? If so, how big? Are you    looking for anything in particular (i.e. the backgrounds all ending up    with the characters in the same city)?*
A paragraph or two would be nice. The campaign isn't quite a horror  campaign, but it's not the shiniest of settings either. Magic isn't  unknown, but it's not super common, either, and especially spells over  fifth level. A rich man, or even moderately wealthy, can have magical  healing; the poor must hope for church charity or make do.

The land in the Fog is dangerous, and not every encounter can be won by force of arms. Pick your battles.

You should probably include the following: Why is your character daring the Fog? What are they hoping to find? 

Whatever your background, your character must be willing and able to work with others.

*15. Does your game involve a lot of hack & slash, puzzle solving, roleplaying, or a combination of the above?*
A mixture of roleplay and choppin', with some investigation.

*16. Are your Players restricted to particular rulebooks and    supplements, or will you be allowing access to non-standard material?    What sources can Players use for their characters?*
 No UA or homebrew, please. 
And no Strixhaven stuff either, please, spells or feats or whatever.




Looking down from the Yammath Pass, into the valley, one can see the consumer of Ginneron. Down there, but a mile and half distant, the Fog swirls and churns unending. 

Even here in Autumn, the mountains should still be more alive than this.  Birdsong is distant and muted; the heath does not murmur in the breeze, but seems to cling to the rock of the mountain like a hunkering beast. The wind is still, contrary to the  motions of the mist below. The only sounds are those of human manufacture: conversation, coughing, crying, movement. The refugee camp is a motly assortment of tents, lean-tos and basic constructions. A carriage, horseless, sits by the side of the road, incongruous in its lacquered glory. The air is thick with the smell of woodsmoke from campfires. Clusters of people, peasants, merchants and labourers alike, sit around them. Some had ventured the hard path over the passes to the Ploughlands, but none here have been able to take more than what their hands could carry from the Fog. Food and hope are both in short supply, and fear and worry is engraved on the faces of all you see. 

A priest, old and withered, kneels by an impromptu shrine in front of a crowd of believers. He leads them in intonations of prayers to a propped-up insignia of the Duality. His voices wavers with age, but not for lack of conviction.

A young noble lady sits on the step of the carriage, swinging her legs, and exchanging occasional words with a fretful-looking maid. The horses to drive the carriage are missing. One of her footmen had stolen them in the night and fled. A fine rapier sits across her legs, sparklingly shiny and unused, and her golden hair is still done up in ornate braids.

In the edge, the silhouette of a watch tower can be seen like a shadow. A squad of soldiers of the Ginneron Legion had been posted there, to watch for greenskin raids and collect tolls; they'd abandoned their post when the Fog came, and now sit glum and uneasy at the edge of the camp. Three days ago, one of them had gone to fetch supplies left behind in the tower. He'd never come back.

A lance of Paladins from the Order of Two Shrouds, clad in red and blue respectively, have a tent set up, and one of them, red-clad, stands armoured and glowering while the blue-sashed paladin gently tends to casualties groaning and twisting on the earth. They'd come to help the injured and protect the camp, but so far nothing has come out of the Fog this far. Some of them, too had gone into the Fog a day ago.

This is the last place before the Fog. These are people who do not dare the mountain passes, or are trapped by desperate hope to still see the Fog lift or family emerge. Some simply have nowhere to go, with little prospects on the other side.

You have all, through various means, found your way to this desperate camp, ready to venture down into the Fog.

One of the Shroud Paladins, a sharp-faced woman with short-shorn black hair, battered but very functional-looking plate armour, and a red sash, had stopped you before you went.
She'd given her name as Knightess Yvonne, her accent the rolling syllables of the southern Ploughlands.
*"I'd recommend going as a group,"* she'd told you, gesturing to the other adventurers. *"God only knows what's waiting in that mist, but I wouldn't go alone."*

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger*
Human Drakewarden Ranger
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

The reception she'd received on entering the camp had been...cool, but that didn't surprise her too much. Noble stock or not, Mineva looked the part of a nomad hunter atop her riding horse, bow slung and - most importantly - her drake, Pyrani, in tow. Getting her steed and drake to get along had been a challenge, but she'd made it work. It always caused a stir with new people though. Some were fascinated, some were frightened, most were just uneasy, but Pyrani was a part of her and she of them. There was no avoiding or circumventing that.

*"I'd recommend going as a group."* The words echo in her mind as she tightened the strap on her armour. Snug. Safe. Furs cling tight at her shoulders, offering some warmth against the chill in the air - both real, and imagined. It was sound advice, though those with the mentality were few, and those with the skills to back it up even fewer. Plus they'd have to be okay with Pyrani. Better to get it over with. She coughs, before speaking up - loudly enough to attract attention. The shortest and fastest route.

"I'm goin' inta the Fog." A short, declarative statement. There's no trace of her noble upbringing here. She's got the gruff shortness of a frontiersman, and the slight grumbling edge of one who's spent time around the orcs and goblins - fine folk in their own way. Fine when they were friends, and fine when they were foes. "Tracker, hunter, archer, rider, an' I have a drake." Her fingers scratched at Pyrani's scalp, and the drake leaned into the scratches. Their thick black scales were dimmed in this light, but their red eyes still gleamed with a quiet intelligence and awareness. "If you've got reason to go in too, and you bring somethin' to the table, lets hash it out."

They'd probably want to talk to the others around the camp even once they formed their group - get a lay of the land, gather local news - but it wouldn't matter if they weren't able to head in in the first place.

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

_"Agreed."_  The bishop speaks with a firm voice.  _"The more cords there are in a strand of rope, the stronger it is.  We've been told of people leaving this camp alone and not returning."_  He turns to the other adventurers.  _"Will you join me, that we may support each other in the coming and going, and exchange the mystery of the mist for knowledge?"_

Bishop Flan is a lean man, just slightly taller than average.  His ornately decorated plate gleams with symbols of the duality, and the helm hooked on his slung shield bears a few markings that vaguely echo the headgear someone of his rank might wear in safer and more formal times. His hair is brown, shot through with streaks of silver and grey.

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Rantah was walking around the camp, when she saw a group of people in heavy armor gathered near the exit. That looked promising, she thought. Her previous attempts of finding companions did not work well, though it didn't help that most people ran away before she could finish her speech, and the ones who didn't thought she was just crazy. Well, she probably was, but that wasn't stopping the half-orc.

She was a buff woman, with average height, wearing a somewhat old splint and an equally old large backpack, but carrying a halberd on her back that you couldn't tell for sure if it was old or not, because it was very polished and well taken care of. On her neck, there was a pendant of a single bear's claw.

She listens to the woman in red talk, and a big smile opens on her face, not very matching of the grim environment they are all in.

"Sounds like a plan to me!" - she says, loudly, then pulls out her halberd.

"I am Rantah Mograth, paladin of Garruth Village and of its god Rugir. And what I bring to the table is my weapon, and a quick death to anyone who finds themselves at the wrong end of it. Nice to meet you all!"

----------


## Spore

*Tarig, Sage of the Deep Woods*
Human Mercy Monk
AC: 17 HP: 38/38 
Ki: 5/5 Current "battle stance": (e.g. Step of the Wind, Patient Defense)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

A balding man in his early fifties approached the group. Clad in a sleeveless tunic and a worn gambeson as well as a tattered robe repurposed as a cloak, he still carried himself with some grace and purpose. One could tell he was fit as a fiddle, but with a face etched by the mark of time, even moreso than the average aging man. A short bow was slung around his back, and he clutched a marked quarterstaff, and he seemt neither a master archer nor frontline soldier.

For the longest time Tarig was content with watching. He preferred to watch from the woods, occasionally appearing for some townsfolk to aid them, to slay some fierce beast cornering some children or to aid the sick. But this was different. This was a bigger endeavor. One where he could not hide and engage on his own whims. The average people avoided him, they had heard stories of weal and woe involving the Sage of the Woods, as they called him. But these men and women, these heroes were different, that much he could tell.

I live here. the monk just briefs adds to the otherwise verbose conversation, thinking that would be enough. Eventually his actions concluded in him handing out a wooden cup of hot water each to each party member. In his right he clutches an empty rune etched tin can. He flips it over and it produces some fine tea leaves. He beckons everyone to sit around the fire with a cup of tea. Fancy a bit of "old magic"? he says with the warm smile of an elderly man trying to become more amicable with the locals.

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"Hey, thank you!" - Rantah replied, putting her weapon away and accepting the tea.

I arrived yesterday. I'm from a valley near the border, about three days of travel from here.

Have you been here for long? This place seems like it has just been put together.

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --


_"A bit of tea to warm our bones against the chill is welcome, thank you."_  The Bishop sits with the others, making sure he finds somewhere clean.  _"I have recently arrived to investigate this.  I've spent time out of the temples before, including helping burn out a nest of trolls and deal with some foolishly-raised undead, so I'm not a stranger to using magic in stressful situations.  Whatever this is, it has harmed a great many of the flock."

"I just arrived last night and haven't had a chance to look around yet."_  He turns to the older man who had handed out the tea.  _"Have you had a chance to speak with those here, or who encountered the mist up close?  Any signs of creatures, tracks, or other things?"_

----------


## Ophiuchus

Hnefa Úlfsdóttir
 Giantblood Rune Knight
AC 17 HP 44/44
PP 15 PInv 9 PIns 12
Conditions -
Concentrating -

Hnefa was returning from a hunting/foraging expedition.  She carried her steel trap with white knuckles.  The past few days had revealed that she was far removed from the silent stalker she had been in her youth.  Not that it made much  difference.  Game was scarce, only a stunted hare had found its way into the trap.  

She approached camp with her chin tucked, avoiding eye contact.  (No easy feat, with her broad figure standing two heads above the others in the camp.  Many stared, a few had to leap from her path.).  Hnefa dropped the game at the campfire without breaking stride.  She wouldn't explain how to prepare it.  She wasn't even interested in getting her share of the stew.  It was behind her.

Eventually lifting her head, Hnefa spotted a group gathering at the edge of camp.  From the sound of it, they were discussing entering the Fog.  "Into the Fog?  Where to?  How deep?" Regardless if anyone answers, "I'm in."

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: -- | 


"Mineva." She gives her name, blunt as can be. Just her first name though. It was her name, and she didn't shy away from that, but sharing her lineage might cause a problem - now or later. The others seemed...capable. They at least didn't appear to be _weak_, even the old man. She'd learned early and fast that age meant experience, which paid for itself just as much as youth did. They'd serve - for now. It's not like she had any other options.

"My brother went in," she juts a thumb over her shoulder towards the fog.  "Or so I heard. I'm aimin' to get him back out...but my leads dried up faster than a hornsfrog on summer sand, so until I get a clue on him, I'll go wherever's needed, s'long as it's Foggy." Charging in without a plan was really what she did best, if only because she didn't know any other way.  Frankly if she _did_ have a lead, she half expected it to take longer to find him than if she didn't. "Pyrani make's strangers _anxious_ so I kept my space, but if one of you wants to come with I'll chinny with the noble for a few and see wha' shakes out?"

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Rantah thought it was fine to explain why she was here. It's not like she had much to hide anyway.

"My valley was being attacked by the creatures who came out of the fog. We managed to repel then, but the elders decided we had to do something to make it stop, so they sent our four best warriors in. They never returned." - she adds, looking down.

Then the guardian of the valley picked me finish the job. I believe in my own skills, but I'm not even as strong as those four guys combined. I need a team. 

When Mineva invites them to check around, Rantah replies: "I can go. Though people might be as afraid of me as they are of your friend". - she grims, letting her fangs show.

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --



_"I find I have a steadying presence on many people, if you'd like me to come along Miss Minerva.  I heard something about the guardsmen having sent someone back to yon tower.  It would be a reasonable first stop, and it's possible that I may be able to view it from a distance once we get about halfway to it.  We should talk to the guards as well.  

Knightess Yvonne, is there anyone else here who may possess helpful information?"_ 

(After speaking with the aforementioned people, the Bishop will also visit with the elderly priest to offer encouragement and any brief help needed before the party heads out).

----------


## Spore

*Tarig, Sage of the Deep Woods*
Human Mercy Monk
AC: 17 HP: 38/38 
Ki: 5/5 Stance: -
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Tarig's muscles twitch a bit under his robes as the cleric mentions magic. For a short second he looks like he wants to flee. As long as you are not affiliated with an army, bishop; I am happy to help then. The wise man approaches the dragon in a peaceful manner. He knew animals quite a bit, but if this was indeed a dragon, this was more the matter of diplomacy than husbandry. A bit larger than the lizards I have seen, but I can see the glint of true intelligence behind those eyes. Say, does it understand us?

To the missing people, Tarig nods gravely. I made those woods my home, but I barely escaped its horrors. Normally I could best or at least avoid all beasts in the area, but lately they became more cunning and fierce. I fear the worst for someone who got lost in there without the guidance of a local. The situation was as dire as he expected, and no amount of hot tea could calm this. We should hurry, if we want to have a chance to find them alive.

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: -- | 

She waves off the question from the old man. "A word here and there but they mostly work on...ya know, tone. Don' do the whole baby talk on 'em though, they'll take a finger - if you're lucky." Pyrani nips the air, seemingly in response, though how much of that is coincidence and how much understanding lurks behind the draconic eyes is another matter. "I can translate to an' from dragontongue if you really want a natter, but they ain' chatty. 'Strong'n'silent type'." She chuckles with the lightest of eyerolls, and for her mild teasing indeed receives a nip on her wrist. Not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to warn her off such things. "See what I mean?" The hunter nurses the injury, mostly by just flexing her wrist and waving it about - a tried and true method of getting rid of pain.

She holds off on approaching the noble for now - best to bring as many of the 'normal' types as she could, and waiting on the bishop to finish up with the knights.

----------


## The Hellbug

*Germonde*

*"Must have been difficult to train,"* a young man who has been lingering nearby and listening back and forth as the strangers chatted finally comments, *"or at least that's what I'd guess; I've never seen anything like it before."*  The man is on the short side, clearly well-fed and athletic but not physically imposing.  He seems out of place among the refugees, for his tunic and cloak are simple but clean and finely-made, only matching them with the short-on-sleep and anxious look in his eyes.

When attention turns his way, he flusters briefly.  *"Oh oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.  Didn't mean to interrupt,"* he apologizes with a slight stammer, *"I've been looking for someone willing to brave the fog with me for days now.  The paladins weren't interested in any not of their order.  I can look after myself if it comes down to it"*--he taps the rapier at his hip and awkwardly gestures to his pack as he stands, on which rest a shield and an old, study battleax rest--*"maybe the rest of whoever's going, too.  I've seen battle before.  Sorry again, manners.  I'm Germonde Albret."*  When he offers his hand to shake, the scars on his hands and arms seem to support his claim of being a warrior.  *"Some people say Sir, but that's up to you.  I really don't mind either way and don't think it's technically appropriate anyway, especially around here."*

----------


## Ophiuchus

*Hnefa Úlfsdóttir*
Giantblood Rune Knight
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 15 PInv: 9 PIns: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"Hnefa" she accepts the handshake.  "From the Spire..._where the Giants left their secrets_."  She illustrates by tracing an _Ild_ onto her trident and a _Stein_ onto the chest of her splint armor.  "I protected the Cathedra..." glancing toward the camp where the Conclave and citizens of Gantset have taken refuge, she clarifies "...while I was there."

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Rantah smiles at the interaction between Mineva and her drake. She was this close from doing the "baby talk", but she takes the warning.

"Got it. Don't let your partner give you trouble, Pyrani!" - she tries to address them in a more respectful way, but not letting go of her orcish bluntness.

When Germonde joins, she also gives him a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Sir Germonde."

"Now..." - she turns to the group - "This is one big party we have gathered. Is anyone else joining? Otherwise, I'm dying to get down to business."

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: -- | 

"Nah, they never needed trainin', they're a...well its a long story, but they were kind of an adult from birth? Don' ask me to explain it, 'cos I don' understand it either. There was a proper term for it these scholars had and I wrote it down for when people asked 'bout it, but I used the paper for kindling about 3 months back so..." She shrugs. "Somethin' somethin' semolina? It ain't important, Pyrani's my buddy, that's all that matters."

She glances over the rest of the hastily assembled party. "I'm good to go whenever, but if the camp wants stuff done we should ask 'round first, in case we end up back here."

----------


## The Hellbug

*"Oh, then I'm in good company,"* Germonde says with relief, *"maybe too good"* --he lowers his voice--*"is that man there a bishop ?  In a place like this with no guards?"* Having nothing left to see to in camp since he sent his groom away a day ago, Germonde anxiously checks his belongings again before the group sets out.  He spares a worried glance at the young lady with the horseless carriage, thinking of his sisters, now homeless like the rest but safe with allies in the Ploughlands, but there's nothing he can do for her.  Coin won't buy horses in a place like this and his responsibilities lie in the opposite direction, in cursed Ginneron.

----------


## Ophiuchus

*Hnefa Úlfsdóttir*
Giantblood Rune Knight
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 15 PInv: 9 PIns: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Hnefa begins to declare "We are plenty." Then,"_Hmmm..._Do none of the tower guards care to find their missing companion?"  She sighs, giving the bishop a nod.  "I suppose we _should_ ask them."

----------


## Awful

The paladin watches the group form with a nod of approval. Her stern features don't lend themselves to smiles, and she doesn't try, but when the Bishop questions her, she gives a loose shrug.
*"Honestly, everyone here will tell you something they saw or encountered - or at least, thought they did. I wouldn't be able to tell you what was people jumping at shadows and what was actually dangerous. There's monsters in there, certainly. I'm here to protect my sister-in-blue, and I'll do that, whether they be devils, dead, or demons."*

She runs a thumb along the spike of the vicious-looking warpick stashed in her belt. One of the injured in the tent cries out, a slurred moan of anguish, and she looks around. The blue-sashed paladin in the tent looks up at her and gives a small shake of his head. Her mouth quirks in a frown, and she turns back to the bishop.

*"My fellows were punching north, aiming to try to reach St Annelise's Chapel some thirty miles distant. They were mounted, though, and unless you were pushing a heavy pace-"* She squints up at the position of the sun in the murky sky, and nods to herself- *"Aye, you could have reached it by nightfall, if you marched fast and it was a clear road. Well, you can see how clear it is. A fast pace might doom you in that Fog."
*

--------

The soldiers from the tower are sat, desultory, around a campfire. A stew of hardtack gloops and glops inside a copper cooking pot. The five of them are each clad in a shirt of chainmail and thick furs against the mountain chill. Compared to the refugees elsewhere in the camp, they seem low in morale but otherwise untouched by the chaos.

All of them have weapons sheathed, but close to hand; the short thrusting swords favoured by the border guards and a bundle of javelins for each. The officer of the tower has a helmet, crested with alternating yellow and black plumes, resting in his lap, and one hand traces aimless patterns on the polished surface. His face is that of a young man, stubbled and with the stony grey eyes that suggests a light touch of giantsblood in him. 

They look up as you approach with sullen stares. Only the officer, after a long pause, speaks.
*
"What?"*he says flatly, with little tact and even less enthusiasm. *"I heard you talking about going into that. Thanks, but no thanks; before you ask, we're not going with you."*



--------

Those who choose to approach the noble girl on the step of her carriage find her in what is clearly already a deeply-established disagreement with the flustered-looking maid at her side. They seem quite the opposites - the noble is certainly pretty, with a heart-shaped face and well-tailored trousers, corset and coat, and the plainer-looking brown-haired maid in her utterly practical off-black work dress.
*"-do not demand you come with me,"* the noble is saying sharply. She bounces her leg with compressed, impatient energy. *"I will sign a note of your good and reliable service to me and my house. Any noble house in the land would accept you without question, I'm sure. But I have waited for long enough."*
*"Milady, please,"* the maid says plainatively, wringing her hands. She is older than her charge, but not by much. *"Your lord father send he'd send word when it was safe-"*

The two seem too engaged in this to notice your approach.

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --



Paladins
_"So the stories are wildly inconsistent, then.  Fear can do that.  Tell me a little bit about those who rode into the Fog, if you'd like.  I can pray that they accomplish their goal, or, should things go the opposite way, that they find rest in the afterlife.  The telling may help you recall memories of them should the latter be the case.  A burden shared is lightened."
_
Should Knightess Yvonne wish to share, Bishop Flan will sit with her for a while, and make note of anything memorable, as well as doing what he says he will.

_"Do you need help with healing?  Are those in the tent injured merely in the body, or have you seen other afflictions?"_

Guards
Bishop Flan looks around at the guards' camp.  Although they seem dispirited, they have not lost all discipline.

_"I understand you may not wish to enter the Fog.  Many would call that approach wise, although caution by itself does not win a war.... and a war this appears to be, even though we do not know our enemy."_  The bishop looks at the officer with a steady gaze, although his words are pitched to carry to the other guards.  _"Courage and fear are two halves of the same feeling - what you choose, moment by moment, determines which one you allow to rule you.  For now, there is no clear enemy to fight, so I do not ask you to change your mind."_

He points towards the tower.  _"The tower, there, seems to be a good first objective for us.  The top is raised above the fog, so it may offer a safe haven if we require one.  What's the name of the guardsman who went to it?  Perhaps we will find him - if so, how may we recognize him?

You all have been posted at the tower.  Tell us, please, of it and the grounds about it.  Any traps, secret passages, where we could find supplies, if any keys are needed to enter parts of it - any information of the area around it could be of help to us."_

Carriage
_"Excuse us, my lady.  We are planning to venture into the Fog to try to help.  A couple of my companions"_ (gesturing to Mineva in particular) _"were wondering what is going on with your carriage.  It appears you've been the victim of thievery, yet have chosen to stay instead of leaving afoot."_

----------


## Spore

*Tarig, Sage of the Deep Woods*
Human Mercy Monk
AC: 17 HP: 38/38 
Ki: 5/5 Stance: -
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Content with overhearing the discussion between the noble lady and the Bishop, Brother Tarig decides to inquire with the common folk who know the most, with the guardsmen. 

*Wyrd Sister:*
So eager to throw your life away, milady? the old man says smiling. Did I gather you try to venture back into the fogs? May I ask why? I am sure the monsters will be enchanted for a split second before they devour you with your pretty dress still intact. the monk cannot help but snark.

*Guards! Guards!*
Your post as guard is a defensive one. Keep the peace and defend those who you can without leaving your duty. You must remain here, entering such perils is the fate of such foolhardy souls such as us. the monk tries to support the bishop's argument. Did other commoners go missing? Noteworthy people have the luxury to plan their travels ahead, but a commoner might enter the woods out of necessity. If the guards stay just as aloof, Tarig will start to become a bit more inquisitive.

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Rantah listens to the paladin about her story, then she adds to the Bishop's offers: "I may also have some healing magic available, if there is anyone in critical need of it."

To the guards, she just smiles, not wishing to make fun of their fear. To be brave in the face of mortal danger is a personal choice, she believes. She leaves for the others to gather information from them.

Finally, when meeting the noble woman, she adds:

"We are going into the fog. I don't suppose there is anyone, or anything, you left there and may want to recover?" - she doesn't add that she overheard their conversation, though it may be obvious.

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: -- | 

"Or," Mineva adds to her newly-acquired colleagues requests of the noblewoman, "if you are coming with, what do you bring to the table?" Another member wouldn't go amiss. The noblewoman didn't look like much, but first impressions could be deceiving. If she could carry her weight, then Mineva would take anyone.

----------


## Ophiuchus

*Hnefa Úlfsdóttir*
Giantblood Rune Knight
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 15 PInv: 9 PIns: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Hnefa inquires of the Knightess, "Have you or your order encountered any of these monsters of which you speak?  Do they bleed like us?" She gives a loud snort and walks away when the officer refuses to join.  At the carriage she joins Tarig's teasing of the noblewoman, "What do you intend to do with that blade?  Pawn it?  I'm afraid it won't fetch much out here."

----------


## Awful

*Knightess Yvonne*

The stern-looking woman looks at the Bishop, and then shakes her head a little.
*
"No offence, Bishop,"* she says, *"But I'll not spread black over their future by speaking of them as already dead. As for what they're like, they'll be armoured, with coloured sashes like mine, red or blue."*

At the offering of help, she gives a loose shrug, her armour clanking as she does so.
*
"Your offers are kind, but unless you've something to dispell curses, I'm not sure you can help. The ones in the tent aren't so much wounded in flesh as in the spirit. There's no physical wounds left on them."* The paladin scowls. *"Even so, they cry out in pain and terror, trapped in nightmares, and waste away. There were more like this before, but they all perished. Quite frankly, I think these ones will, too. All we can do is tend to them and ease them as best we can."*

To Hnefa, the knightess shakes her head. 
*
"I've not been into the Fog itself, and no creature has tried creeping up here as yet. But there's not a beast I've seen yet in all my years fighting evil that won't fall before stout steel and stouter hearts."*


----

*The Guards*


*"No one with brains in their skull wants to enter the Fog,"* the officer drawls. *"We were stationed there to give warning on greenskin raids coming down from the mountains. Well, I don't mind letting them past at the moment."*

There's a grating burst of harsh laughter among the troops.

*"It was Yarrick who went,"* says one of them, younger looking, only just growing in his beard. He sits, gangly with youth, on a wooden lockbox. *"He volunteered to go into that demon-mist. I hope it weren't slow."*

The officer glances at the younger man and sighs.

*"There's two ways into the tower, and both should be locked."* He fishes out a small key of tarnished iron. *"Yarrick had the spare. No traps, but the door on the ground floor just leads to the stable. You need the door on the first floor to actually get into the living space of the tower, so you'll need to climb or find a ladder."*

He casts a hard look down at the tower, just visible looming in the edges of the Fog.

*"Since I'm not taking my men into that, you might as well take it. I rather suspect there's no one left to bring me up on charges for giving away the key."*

He holds it up.
*
"As for missing people, the whole country's missing, old man, if you hadn't noticed. Soon you will be too, if you're going in there."*

There's another rattle of laughter and the officer tosses the key to you.

*"Good luck."*

----

*The Noble*

The two women look up as you approach. The young noble stops bouncing her leg, shifting her grip on the sheath of the rapier so it remains balanced, while the maid looks at you with wide, worried eyes.
*"You would be correct, stranger. My father left two footmen to ward the carriage and my person, but some nights ago they abandoned their duties and their pride, and ran in the night. One of them stole my horses, too, when they fled. Blaggards! Scoundrels!"*

At Tarig's words, however, her eyes narrow, and by the time Hnefa's spoken, she's outright scowling.
*"What wretched times, when any random roustabout may infringe upon my company,"* she bites out icily. *"Where it not for this calamity, none would dare such disrespect."*

She shoves off the carriage to her feet, drawing herself tall - well, as tall as she could get, compared to a giantsblood, where her five-foot-four didn't seem terribly large at all. The tip of the sheathed rapier thumps against the dirt, her hands wrapped around the undrawn hilt, the gold wire of the basket hilt gleaming where it catches the light. . 
*
"I am the Lady Temperance Du Azeric, daughter and heir of the honourable Baron Du Azeric! I was trained in the rapier by the swordsmaster Alfric Du Tallin, and none of my lord father's armsmen could match me one-to-one!"* She looks at the old man and the giantsblood in turn.* "I'm no grandfather soon for the grave, and as for you? You might be bigger than I - but my needle will sting you a half-dozen times before you can swing at me with those paws of yours, I'd bet!"*

*"Milady, please..."* the maid says giving you frantic looks, but the Lady Temperance pays her no heed, fiercely glaring up at the group.

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Rantah attempts to defuse the emerging conflict between the noblewoman and the giantblood...

"That sounds very useful! I am sure it will be great help against all the fiends and undead we are about to fight. Welcome to the team, Miss Temperance. I'm Rantah."

... and she also takes the opportunity to test the girl's resolve by mentioning some of the monsters from the fog that have invaded Rantah's village before.

She then turns to the maid, wondering what her part in this is going to be:

"And how about you? Are you joining us, too?"

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: -- | 

Mineva scratched her head, trying to think back to the lessons she had ignored, snuck out of, and generally refused to actively participate in on noble lineages. The name sounded vaguely familiar but she hadn't the Azeric's been rocked by a succession scandal that saw their house brought to ruin? No, that was the Alterani's. Or was it the Afrom's? There were so many and she pointedly did not care about learning them. 

"That sounds like a good idea." Mineva says, shooting a fingergun at Temperance's boast.  "Gotta make sure we're up to snuff if we're Fogbound. How's about a quick spar? No killin' blows, nothing that'll leave a proper mark, but somethin' to get the blood pumping. Been dyin' to hit something these past few days." She taps her boot toe into the floor to emphasise the knife strapped to the side of it. "Me'n'Pyrani'll take y'out for a spin, unless someone else wants to step up." Pyrani curls around Mineva from behind, as if sensing the challenge. It's a show that they're a team together, rather than two separate fighters, and it wasn't like the Fog would 'play fair' and insist on duels. If she had have that notion in her head, it was better Temperance be forcibly rid of it before she gets herself killed.

----------


## Spore

*Tarig, Sage of the Deep Woods*
Human Mercy Monk
AC: 17 HP: 38/38 
Ki: 5/5 Stance: -
Conditions: -
Concentration: -


*Wyrd Sister:*
Tarig laughs at the bravado of the young woman. It was no vile laugh intended to hurt, but rather the laugh of an amused old man. He leans on his walking stick. We do not know if the beasts in the mists can even be injured by mere weapons. And for another I prefer to not engage savage wolves and other aberrations hand-to-hand. he says gently tapping the rapier the woman had strapped to her side with his wooden stick. If I cannot shoot them with an arrow, they have to stay as far away from me as possible. I may be skilled, but I am not foolish. Use the battlefield to your advantage. Just because you are a great duelist does not mean the enemy will play fair. He waves with his free hand, as if the end his own monologue. I agree with the dragon lady. If you can hold your own against them, we will accept.

*Guards! Guards!*
Maybe I intend to stay missing. Ever thought of that, boy? the monk finishes as the others pick up the key. Some guards you are. The king should relieve you of your duties. he says, a slight shift in his body to see if the men would be incited by such a small mockery of their post. He was ready to at least defend himself.

----------


## The Hellbug

After watching the conversation with the young Lady du Azeric with increasing anxiety, Germonde finally speaks up.  *"Please,"* he insists, ignoring the invasive thought in his mind that he should just wash his hands of this, *"there's no need to fight--we'll need all our energy where we're going.  Lady Temperance, please correct me if I'm wrong but from what I overheard, your business in the fog is following your lord father?  That's not so different from mine, but we all are united only by our willingness to go into that danger.  There's no guarantee there will be a way out until each of our businesses is satisfied.  Fight or join us if you must, but the Count Albret is my kin, though distant.  A portion of his court has escaped to allies in the Ploughlands.  I'm sure by my word and your station you would be accepted there."*

----------


## Awful

*The Guards*
*
"Well, if His Majesty shows up, we'll be sure to pass your opinion along,"* the officer says dryly. *"Maybe you can tell him yourself when you met in the afterlife. You can't look at that-"* He waves a hand at the distant fog, *"-and say anyone in the eye of that particular storm is going to be still kicking."

*The soldiers don't make any aggressive moves towards the sage of the deep woods, seemingly dismissing him as a man already doomed.


*Lady Temperance Du Azeric

*The young woman looks fiercely determined - even more so at the mention of undead and fiends. At Minerva's challenge, she steps forward, shifting her grip on the rapier- one on the sheath, one on the grip, for easier drawing. The maid, for her part, looks almost like she's going to faint. 

She gives the maid a fond look at Rantah's question, before her gaze hardens again and returns to Du Tiger.
*"Maria there will not be coming with me. It would be terribly shameful of me to force her into danger. I will give her a note of good standing, and enough money to see her safely through to one of our cadet branches. With my note, she will be treated well in reward for her loyal service."*

As Germonde spoke up, though, she paused.When she spoke again, her tone was more measured. She looked at the man with a more measured gaze, looking him up and down as if to try to recognise him. Whatever she's looking for, however, she doesn't see it, and she turns to face the incipent challenge again. 

*"The Albret line? The Count Albret is my third cousin, first removed, I believe."* She made a frustrated sound. *"My family are all within the Fog. My mother and sisters are at our family estate by Gantset; my father is heading there as we speak, no doubt assailed by all manner of monsters and madmen. How could I abandon them all and not choke on the shame of it?"*

She traced a line in the dirt with her fancy leather boot, the golden buckles gleaming, and sinks into a ready-draw position on the other side of it to Minerva. Around the refugee camp, necks are being craned, and people are turning to watch, wondering if violence is about to break out. The paladin in her battered armour watches, frowning, as if considering whether to intervene, but doesn't step forward.

*"Well, you rascal,"* the Lady Temperance says to Minerva.* "If you still desire it, let us draw steel and be done! Time is wasting!"*

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: -- | 

"Ya heard the _lady_." Mineva says to Germonde, the thrill and excitement clearly showing in tone and expression. She crouches down and pulls the dagger from its sheathe, flipping it in the air, before catching it in an underhand grip. She preferred the bow by far, but she'd had her share of scraps up close and personal, even if it was Pyrani's domain normally. "Would be rude to refuse 'er now." The rapier had range on her, and she'd seen what a practiced swordsperson could do if given free rein to stab at will. She'd need to stay up close and personal. That wouldn't bother her. 

*"Just a friendly spar. Stay at her back, keep her pressed, and nothing lethal, yeah?"* She mutters in the draconic tongue to Pyrani. The drake snorts and rolls their eyes, as if it were a waste of precious time, but still uncurls from around their partner and takes up position alongside. They wouldn't back down from the challenge, even if they didn't understand what it was actually over. Mineva would explain later. "Show me a good time Temperance!" She calls out full of hot bluster backed by sincere emotions. While it was tempting to treat Temperance as a pampered songbird in a cage - and she might just be - she treats every fight as if it's her last, and that meant treating every foe seriously until they were down and out.



*Spoiler: Initiative?*
Show


If required: (1d20+5)[*7*]

----------


## Awful

The poor maid covers her eyes.

*"Have at you!"* The young firebrand calls, and, well, has at you.

The rapier is drawn with a sibilant hiss. It's a sleek steel needle, not something designed for war, but it means the Lady Du Azeric can move fast with it. Certainly, she's fast enough she might have grounds for confidence. 

She shifts into a text-book thrust and before you can properly guard, the tip pokes Minerva in the chest, over where the heart would be. Whip-fast the blade comes back, feints low, and jabs Minerva in the throat.

The Lady holds the bladepoint there, digging in to the skin but going no further. Slowly, a droplet of blood forms at the tip. There's a muttering from the watching refugees.

*"Match point. Is that sufficient demonstration?"* she asks, her tone all but dripping with satisfaction. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Temper rolls 17 for init, generously being allowed to go first by Minerva.
She gets a 19 and a natural 20 with her two attacks, but doesn't inflict damage.

She considers the match finished; if you don't continue it, it'll conclude combat.

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --



_"A fast draw and stab.  You'd have landed both of those on me despite my armor, I think.  Judging by that, I have no objection to you coming along.  You already know you could be walking into mortal danger with us."_

Bishop Flan thinks to himself that this was about as good of a result as he could have expected - no real injury done.  Her father no doubt would not want her going into danger, but part of being a parent is your children getting old enough to choose their own path.  Control and release, instruction and independence.

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: -- | 

"I...no...that's..." Mineva stutters for a moment. She had been all revved up and now she had nowhere to go, brought to the edge of fun that was now cut short. She couldn't - and wouldn't - continue the fight. There wasn't much point beyond her own self-satisfaction and while she did _desperately_ want to be satisfied by getting to hit something, it would probably get in the way of the rest of the mission. She swipes a thumb across the beaded blood on her neck leaving a smear. It'd heal fast. Dropping her stance and standing straight she places her hands on her hips, and bursts out laughing, straight from her belly, as much to diffuse any existing tension from herself as to show there was no hard feelings.

"Yeah, tha's good enough." She stows the dagger back in its place and pats Pyrani on the head before sticking a hand out for Temperance to shake. "Mineva. Let's get along."

----------


## Spore

*Tarig, Sage of the Deep Woods*
Human Mercy Monk
AC: 17 HP: 38/38 
Ki: 5/5 Stance: -
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

To say Tarig was not surprised would have been a lie. The old man was equally in shock, and moved along next to the Lady's abigail. He bows, but not without looking at Maria. Excuse my old stubbornness then. The guards have made it quite clear that we should take up any aid we can muster rather than staying exclusive. And I am beginning to think my old bones are the fifth wheel on this wagon, and not you. He moves towards Maria. Milady is faster than any cougar I have encountered in my years abroad. We have a capable priest and myself to keep spirits up and injuries at bay, a flying lizard and two knights? Nothing short of a heinous trap could do us harm.

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"The heinous traps will run away when they hear us coming!" - Rantah says, cheefully.

However, she knows it will not be as simple. She estimates what the noble woman just showed is about the bare minimum of strength they need to have in order to survive in that place. This will be absurdly dangerous, simply put. But Rantah is not about to kill the mood. If the party doesn't trust themselves now, they have lost before even trying.

But she likes those guys, the half-orc thinks. She decides she will give her all to make sure they all come back alive.

----------


## Ophiuchus

*Hnefa Úlfsdóttir*
Giantblood Rune Knight
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 15 PInv: 9 PIns: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"Your family chose not to flee, but to defend their home?  That is honorable. 
They have my respect...as do you." She lets the complement hang in the air a moment before adding, "Oh when we're out in the fog..." her gaze travels to the bloody smear on Minerva's neck, she wrinkles her nose, "...don't hold back."

----------


## Awful

The noble girl brings back her rapier into a swordsman's salute, looking pleased with herself. At the pro-offered hand, she pauses, then reaches out and gives it a small shake. Her grip is surprisingly delicate, and a little tentative, as if she's not used to shaking someone's hand. To the others, she nods in acknowledgement of their words.

*"Thank you."* At Hnefa's mention of her family, she smiles, but there's no humour in it at all. She produces a handkerchief from a pocket and carefully wipes the small red stain on the tip of the steel needle away before sheathing it with a conclusive _click_.
*"My lord father and I were out-of-country when this began. By the time word reached us, the Fog would have already covered our estates. As for my mother and sisters... one of my sisters is... ill, recurringly. She can't be moved, and neither would she ever be abandoned, so they must still be there. The mansion is fortified, so if anywhere is safe - it would be there."*

She nods her head again. 

*"I must now arrange for Maria. Let me know when you're departing."*

With that, she steps up to Maria, speaking to her quietly. The maid sniffs loudly and nods, and the two disappear into the carriage.

----------


## The Hellbug

As the ladies were lining up to duel, Germonde was helpless, willing in vain for someone else to step in and stop the fight where he had failed.  This was, after all, how trifling disagreements could easily spiral into deadly bloodshed.  In the last moment, though, morbid curiosity unasked for takes over, and he finds himself staring along with the rest.  Lady Temperance is fast and precise, more so than he is, Germonde decides, but luckily not as bloody-minded as he had feared.  *"That settles that,"* he says with a sigh of relief as they sheathe their blades.  

However, a thought makes itself known in his head.  What would he have done had he been challenged like Lady Temperance?  On the surface, they're not so different, he reflects with a glance down at his rapier.  His hand, though, goes to the small leather pouch hanging from his neck, concealed underneath his clothes.  As he traces the familiar grooves of the fingerbones within, he reflects grimly that Alba would actually enjoy being summoned for such a contest, but it would certainly end more painfully, likely for both parties--she isn't one for proving points without broken bones or bruises to emphasize them.

He's drawn back to reality when Temperance dismisses herself.  *"My offer stands for your maid alone as well,"* he reminds her, *"the count's court is is much diminished in its current exile.  She could certainly find a place there with your recommendation.  Alas, if I hadn't sent my groom on his way yesterday I would offer him as an escort."*

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --



After visiting with their new recruit and the guardsmen, the Bishop excuses himself.  He makes his way over to the elderly priest and identifies himself, before asking what he can do to help.  If anything needs to be done, or messages need to be sent to request aid, he will make sure it happens.

He also spends some time with the priest offering encouragement, and discussing how good is made more obvious through the presence of evil, how mystery is solved through knowledge, and other tenets of the faith that are relevant and encouraging in trying times.

----------


## Spore

*Tarig, Sage of the Deep Woods*
Human Mercy Monk
AC: 17 HP: 38/38 
Ki: 5/5 Stance: -
Conditions: -
Concentration: -




> "The heinous traps will run away when they hear us coming!" - Rantah says, cheerfully.


But that's not how... the bearded monk smiles. I guess they will. But I just hope the traps will not notice us, so we can trap the traps.

----------


## Ophiuchus

*Hnefa Úlfsdóttir*
Giantblood Rune Knight
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 15 PInv: 9 PIns: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"One of the tower guards should make themselves useful by offering her their armor." Hnefa mutters.  She then waits at the edge of camp.

----------


## Awful

> He's drawn back to reality when Temperance dismisses herself.  *"My offer stands for your maid alone as well,"* he reminds her, *"the count's court is is much diminished in its current exile.  She could certainly find a place there with your recommendation.  Alas, if I hadn't sent my groom on his way yesterday I would offer him as an escort."*


*"A kind offer,"* the noble says. *"The choice will be hers, in the end."*

*"Thank you, milord,"* the maid mumbles, curtseying to you.



---


But eventually, everyone is ready. With souls steeled and steel sharp, they advance. Lady Temperance bids her maid farewell and leaves her behind, walking at the rear of your formation with sheathed rapier in hand. She's picked up a little buckler, a smooth steel disk with a golden sigil, but she remains unarmoured, taking only a fur-lined cloak to protect herself from the elements.

The people of the camp watch you go. A few bid you good luck. The priest, driven top new, wavering heights by the ecouragement of the Bishop, extorts the god-in-two to protect you. The knightess, Yvonne, raises a mailed hand in goodbye.

The closer you get to the fog, the quieter it gets. Any chirrs of insects fade away. There is no birdsong. Not even the wind seems to murmur in your ears, even as the fog billows. 

A mere hundred feet from the tower, you come to a halt. You're right on the edge of the Fog, creeping tendrils of it coiling across the grass and playing around your shins. The top of the tower looms like a giant in the mist, a ugly, square-sided stone thing five storeys tall and maybe fourty feet across, the roof a dull flaky grey of shingles. The lower floors of it are invisibile in the fog, which seems to reach up the sides of the tower near halfway as if trying to swallow the construction.

There's an uneasiness in the air. Your necks prickle with the feeling of being watched, but nothing is visible. The air is cool and dead.

What now?

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: Pass Without Trace (1 hour) | 

There's a quiet vulnerability in Temperance's handshake which leaves Mineva a little bit perplexed. They're both agile fighters, but the delicate touch of the other noblewoman is a stark reminder of the divergence in their paths. Unbidden, and even recognising how patronising it is to the woman who just stabbed her in the neck, she feels a swift pang of protectiveness - a pang which she dispels by focusing on gathering her gear together. She turns and whistles, calling Kibeth (her riding horse) to her and sets about making sure the bags are tied down (they are), her bow is properly strung (it is), her arrows properly fletched (they are), her blades are properly sharp (they are) and Pyrani is properly fed (they are). It suffices to distract her, even if it is the absolute definition of busywork for busywork's sake.

She's mounted when they head out from the camp, with Pyrani at her side. While they're still some distance away she breaks into a quiet tavern song, mostly to herself but loud enough that anyone who knows it can join in. She's no songstress, nor any great musician (much to her parent's dismay, her skills at the violin are generously described as 'dismal'), but it has the rough and warm tunes that embody the casual song of the people.

"Too long I have traveled, soon I'll see her smiling,
The girl at the Crossroads I'm longing to see.
Oh, I know she is there, daisies in her hair,
Waiting by the chapel to marry me.

I've dreamed of the kiss I stole 'neath the 'arbor.
I've dreamed of the promise 'neath the old ash tree.
Oh, I know she is there, daisies in her hair,
Waiting by the chapel to marry me."

Brave, headstrong, and brash as she is, even Mineva finds her voice and song quieting as they get closer to the fog and the unnatural silence. She frowns, looking up at it the tower. "Not much we can do 'cept head in. I can wrap us in shadow, keep people from hearin' us after we're in the Fog, might get us closer to the tower without gettin' jumped."

Assuming no one speaks up to object, she flexes her fingers and taps into the blood running through her veins. Beneath her furs, beneath her leathers, the symbol of the black dragon on her skin twists and turns as if alive, and she feels its motion as if it were a creature lurking just beneath her skin. A sensation she doubted she would ever truly get used to, but one she had to live with. Shadows wreathe around her arm as she leans down and presses a hand to Pyrani's head. Darkness engulfs the drake, but when they flap their wings it spreads out to the full group quieting them and masking them - albeit slightly - from sight. The shadows drift away from Mineva as she pulls her hand from Pyrani. 

Cooing a soft reassurance to Kibeth, she readies her bow.




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Absent any objections, Mineva will cast *Pass Without Trace* on the party.



*Spoiler: Mineva's Mental Notes*
Show


*Spoiler: People*
Show


*Refugee Camp*
Yvonne - Paladin (red). 
Soldiers - Kinda useless honestly!
Lady Temperance Du Azeric - Noble lady, decent swordswoman, looking for her family in the fog. 
Maria (Temperance's Maid) - Nice lass, probably best she doesn't come along though. Possibly going to Count Albret's estate.



*Spoiler: Non-Party Quests*
Show


*Find Temperance's Family* - They're probably dead, but we should try anyway. Best chance is the Du Azeric estate.
*Chapelbound Paladins* - Yvonne's fellows were headed to St. Annelise's Chapel - mounted. Likely at least a day or two away to the north. Also probably dead or cursed or both.
*Yarrick the Brave* - The one soldier who went into the fog. Has one of the two keys for it. Given the short distance he might've made it to safety. If he's lucky.




*Spoiler: Misc.*
Show


None (yet)

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --



_"Thank you."_  Bishop Flan speaks in a low voice, pitched to not carry far.  _"This is it.  We step into the fog, and pray that our faith and strength carries us through."_

----------


## Ophiuchus

*Hnefa Úlfsdóttir*
Giantblood Rune Knight
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 15 PInv: 9 PIns: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"So we're sneaking up on the place?" Hnefa nods.  "I wonder if...Yarrick was it?...I wonder if he made it inside."

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

The half-orc also gets a horse when they are about to leave. This one was not with her, though. He appears from thin air, summoned by the Find Steed spell. She has met him once before, when coming to the camp. One of the newer perks of being her god's paladin she is getting used to.

When Mineva starts singing, Rantah decides to follow her on that, too, by playing her flute. She is far from a professional musician, but she had quite a few years to practice, while doing rounds as her village's guard. She listens to the human's melodie once then tries to follow it with the instrument. She is satisfied with the result.

When they arrive, she says "Yeah, this is it, guys. Let's make sure we all come back alive from this place, okay? If you need help, say it." And so she unmounts her horse and pulls out her halberd, holding it in two hands. Better be prepared for combat before it happens.

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: Pass Without Trace (1 hour) | 

"Not a whole lot of cover t'sneak with, but if it keeps the monsters out of our hair just a little, it'll be worth it." Mineva squints at the tower, trying to calculate how long it would take her to sprint to it, if she were Yarrick. "He mighta made it, just haveta hope the inside is safer than the out."


Edit:
*Spoiler: Stealth rolls*
Show


From discord:-
Mineva: 35
Kibeth (Horse): 16
Pyrani (Drake): 28



*Spoiler: Mineva's Mental Notes*
Show


*Spoiler: People*
Show


*Refugee Camp*
Yvonne - Paladin (red). 
Soldiers - Kinda useless honestly!
Lady Temperance Du Azeric - Noble lady, decent swordswoman, looking for her family in the fog. 
Maria (Temperance's Maid) - Nice lass, probably best she doesn't come along though. Possibly going to Count Albret's estate.



*Spoiler: Non-Party Quests*
Show


*Find Temperance's Family* - They're probably dead, but we should try anyway. Best chance is the Du Azeric estate.
*Chapelbound Paladins* - Yvonne's fellows were headed to St. Annelise's Chapel - mounted. Likely at least a day or two away to the north. Also probably dead or cursed or both.
*Yarrick the Brave* - The one soldier who went into the fog. Has one of the two keys for it. Given the short distance he might've made it to safety. If he's lucky.




*Spoiler: Misc.*
Show


None (yet)

----------


## The Hellbug

*"Let's take care of you, then.  It looks like we'll be departing immediately,"* Germonde tells the maid, motioning for her to follow him as he reassures the others, *"it will only be a few minutes."*

The young noble leads her to where his horse is tied up--exactly where he left him. * "You ride, right?"* he asks, holding out the reins with a reassuring smile, *"it doesn't much matter, Zephyr knows the way and will know to be gentle."*  As he's writing the letter of introduction he promised, Germonde looks up.  *"Maria was your name? 
 And in service to Lady Temperence du Azeric."*

Soon, he has everything settled, with the maid on horse and armed with a sealed and signed letter of introduction and a purse with a few gold coins.  *"The count's court is being held in Dartonne, 4 easy days' ride from here.  Fair travels.  If you meet my groom Mikael, let him know I haven't spontaneously expired in a day without his help."*  With that, he rejoins the others and sets out.

_________

At the fog's edge, Germonde finds himself almost transfixed by the way it swirls along its edge.  He knows it has halted here for now, but there would be no telling if it were about to push up the road towards the camp at any moment.  *"Last chance to turn back,"* he announces with a glance at each of his new companions.  His eyes land on the bishop last.  *"May They look favorably on our journey,"* he prays, joining his hands together in the way customary to followers of the Duality, one thumb up and one down.  His thoughts go again to the relic he carries.  _All of them._

----------


## Spore

*Tarig, Sage of the Deep Woods*
Human Mercy Monk
AC: 17 HP: 38/38 
Ki: 5/5 Stance: -
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Tarig laughs as the magic shrouds even the stallion. That is a remarkably silent horse. he jokes and takes point. Do you take point, and I will cover our rear? Or do we send two scouts ahead, Mineva? I am fast enough for both. the old man says. Now that he mentions it, he is rather fast, with a spring in his step.

*Spoiler*
Show

Taking point means I help Mineva's general efforts (aid on Survival and Perception), taking rear means I do my own checks. Regardless, über stealth. (1d20+17)[*33*]

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: Pass Without Trace (1 hour) | 

"We'll all have to stay close for the shadows anyways. They disappear if you get too far from yours truly." Mineva wafts her hand through the shadowy smoke that clings to her, demonstrating...absolutely nothing, really, but mostly for emphasis. "I can take the lead just fine, got eyes like a dragon. If you wanna watch our back feel free, someone's gotta."






*Spoiler: Mineva's Mental Notes*
Show


*Spoiler: People*
Show


*Refugee Camp*
Yvonne - Paladin (red). 
Soldiers - Kinda useless honestly!
Lady Temperance Du Azeric - Noble lady, decent swordswoman, looking for her family in the fog. 
Maria (Temperance's Maid) - Nice lass, probably best she doesn't come along though. Possibly going to Count Albret's estate.



*Spoiler: Non-Party Quests*
Show


*Find Temperance's Family* - They're probably dead, but we should try anyway. Best chance is the Du Azeric estate.
*Chapelbound Paladins* - Yvonne's fellows were headed to St. Annelise's Chapel - mounted. Likely at least a day or two away to the north. Also probably dead or cursed or both.
*Yarrick the Brave* - The one soldier who went into the fog. Has one of the two keys for it. Given the short distance he might've made it to safety. If he's lucky.




*Spoiler: Misc.*
Show


None (yet)

----------


## Awful

The maid thanks Germonde. With a few last quiet words between master and servant, and a package pushed into her hands, the girl is sent on her way, sitting on the horse not elegantly, but sufficient to stay on the saddle.

As the party head into the fog, Germonde finds the Lady Temperance walking besides him.
*
"That was kindly done,"* she says quietly. *"You have my thanks, Albret."*

She gives him a sharp nod and speeds her pace until she's ahead.


---

*The Watchtower*


Cloaked in shadows, even the horse, the party advances. Their sounds, already muffled by Minerva's witchwork, sink into the fog and are gone.

*"I'll not turn back,"* the noble says, though her grip on her swordhilt is tight enough the knuckles of her hand are white with it.

As the Fog swirls around your ears, it seems to sigh, almost lovingly, like the return of a long-lost dream, and you feel a curious-

-change. Not in mind or spirit, not in flesh or faith - nothing that that can be determined, truly, but merely a sense that the very air you breath and the ground you step on has changed, however minutely, in nature.

As the group approaches, the lower reaches of the tower can be more clearly seen. The heavy stone bricks are closely fitted, to make it harder to climb, mossy and weathered with age and countless mountain gales. The windows are narrow arrowslits, most closed even moreso with shutters. There are two doors - one, about fourteen feet above the ground, has no staircase or ladder leading up to it. The iron-banded oak is shut tight, with a winch wheel without a rope projecting next to it from the wall. 

Below it, on the ground floor, is another door, similary built of reinforced, stout timbers. This one, however, is ajar, the mud outside of it torn up with deep and multitudinous footsteps.


*Spoiler: Those with passive perception 15 or over*
Show


In the  distance, you can't tell how far, you hear a faint chuckling, muttering.  A low human (or something along those lines) voice is talking  incessantly and frantically, though you can't pick up any distinct  words.

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --



As the group enters the fog, the bishop feels the change, and tries to determine if anything is different with his connection to the Duality.  Could this be an extraplanar incursion?
Religion (1d20+6)[*23*]

After looking and listening, he whispers.  _"Does anyone else hear that?  Someone or something speaking constantly in the distance.  I can't tell where it's from.
The tower is still our best bet.  The lower door looks to have been entered, but the upper door may just put us up against whoever is inside, but while climbing and going in one at a time.  I suggest we move forward with caution."_

----------


## Ophiuchus

*Hnefa Úlfsdóttir*
Giantblood Rune Knight
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 15 PInv: 9 PIns: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Hnefa nods at the bishop.  "It's just rambling nonstop, I can't tell what it is they are saying." 

When the stable door is seen to be open she asks, "What have we here?" She approaches to examine the footprints in the mud.

----------


## Spore

*Tarig, Sage of the Deep Woods*
Human Mercy Monk
AC: 17 HP: 38/38 
Ki: 5/5 Stance: -
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Hear what? In his younger years, Tarig might have shared the common spook with the others, but this was a point where his old age showed. Not only did he not know what they were talking about, but the mere fact that he did not notice it made him doubt his senses. 

I'll go inside first. If anything happens I can come back the easiest, and you'll need Mineva coordinating outside, maybe from above? Tarig says as he enters the door. He leans his trusty walking stick at the entrance.

*Spoiler*
Show

Enter with Dodge Action. Remember Deflect Missiles means any projectile damage to me is reduced, so if I am shot, I have my hands free.

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: Pass Without Trace (1 hour) | 

"We're as ground-bound as the rest of ya." Mineva says to Tarig's suggestion, unless her watch from above counted because she was on horseback, but a few feet probably wouldn't make or break things - especially with a giantblood in the group. Pyrani couldn't fly, not yet. At best they could glide but even that seemed a bit hit and miss. Pyrani skitters forward, sniffing around at the footprints as Mineva watches 'from on high', bow still at the ready. "I heard the chatterin' too though - if it's a person we'll see 'em soon enough, if it's a trick we can just ignore it. Might just be like them wisps in swamps that draw fools into stickmud."



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Survival on the tracks to try to work out who made them, how recent they are, how hurried they are, that sorta deal.
(1d20+8)[*25*]



*Spoiler: Mineva's Mental Notes*
Show


*Spoiler: People*
Show


*Refugee Camp*
Yvonne - Paladin (red). 
Soldiers - Kinda useless honestly!
Lady Temperance Du Azeric - Noble lady, decent swordswoman, looking for her family in the fog. 
Maria (Temperance's Maid) - Nice lass, probably best she doesn't come along though. Possibly going to Count Albret's estate.



*Spoiler: Non-Party Quests*
Show


*Find Temperance's Family* - They're probably dead, but we should try anyway. Best chance is the Du Azeric estate.
*Chapelbound Paladins* - Yvonne's fellows were headed to St. Annelise's Chapel - mounted. Likely at least a day or two away to the north. Also probably dead or cursed or both.
*Yarrick the Brave* - The one soldier who went into the fog. Has one of the two keys for it. Given the short distance he might've made it to safety. If he's lucky.




*Spoiler: Misc.*
Show


None (yet)

----------


## The Hellbug

Germonde strains his ears trying to hear whatever the others are talking about, but he still hears nothing and gives up quickly.  With how uncanny the fog is, he wouldn't be surprised if it were muffling it.  Come to think of it, he hasn't heard a single thing besides the quiet trekking of his little band since they entered.  With Tarig volunteering to scout the tower, Germonde steps forward and dons his shield.  *"You shouldn't go alone, doyen,"* he states, going on to explain uncertainly, *"not that I doubt your abilities, but if we're walking into an ambush, no one should bear it alone.  I didn't wait for companions just to split up from them."*

He looks around over his shoulder at the fog pressing in on the whole party before following the hermit into the tower. * "I don't like the thought of anyone being alone in this."*

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Rantah also stops to examine the footprints along with the giantlood, having some experience with identifying beast ones.

*Spoiler: Survival*
Show

16


Then she hears the old man going forward and she quickly follows him and Germonde, agreeing with the later.

"Yes, I hope nothing bad is inside, but if it is, we better be watching each other's backs"

----------


## J-H

Bishop Flan follows, keeping to the rear center where he can react as needed.

----------


## Awful

When the paladin opens their senses, opening their eyes after their eyes are already open, they see - nothing. No devils or demons spring from the Fog; no ghosts or ghouls are revealed.

If there are such monsters abroad, they aren't quite here yet.

The tracks, when examined, show to be mostly human - a thick morass of booted and, oddly unshod feet killed around and entered the tower, and then left. Mixed in with those are a set of tracks of something that would almost be human - but too big and too light to be a human or giantsblood, even if you'd disregard the clawmarks. Like no beast you know of, though.

The Bishop, for his part, mills the idea of this being a extraplanar incident. The Fog certainly does not seem mundane, but that's not saying that it's come from somewhere else, as such. The rumours and reports of fiends and undead give it more credence, but nothing could be said for certain at this stage - if it was, which plane of existence, and especially one could not yet say why.


Those going in push in through the door. It creaks mournfully as they force it open, stepping into the cool dark, and as they do so, the voice gets louder. It's a man's voice, hoarse and cracking from unending speech and lack of drink.

_"-all back. Oh, I see, I see, it's all here. Aahh, it hurts, it hurts. Oh, God-In-Two, what'd we do? Mama, please-"_

The speaker is inside.

The room they see is wide and open, without stairs upwards. The floor is simply compressed earth scattered with hay. The ceiling is thick wooden beams, around the height of the higher door out there, and the room is scattered with broken crates. Abandoned halters for horses swing from a rack next to a pile of hay. The only light is what comes in through the door, sickly and weak, casting everything in dim light. Glass from a shattered lantern crunches underfoot.

"-he wants it all back. Oh, it hurts."

A man still half-clad in the armour of the Ginneron Legion stands with his back to you, bloody and filthy. He's drawn on the wall with his own lifeblood, now dried to crusted black; something you can only just make out in the gloom - an enormous craggy tower, studded with the little marks of windows, the top tattered. Around the base, tiny buildings rise like foothills before the mountain.

Above it, he's drawn swirling clouds, and from them a huge set of jaws emerges, ready to devour the city below.

"Oh, you're here," he says, suddenly and terribly calm. "She showed me you would. Mama did. She held a light and it hurt to look at, so much, but she made me look and now I've seen it. Seen it? Have I seen?"

He turns to look at you - but his face is a crusted sleet of red, his eyes ruined, nose missing, infection already beginning to bloom along his damaged flesh. He clutches at his head and groans.

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: Pass Without Trace (1 hour) | 

"*Easy*." Mineva mutters in draconic to Pyrani. Whatever's wrong with the man, the drake was ready to leap and tear, and Mineva wasn't exactly far behind. If this was the man they'd been told of - Yarrick - then it seemed they were too late for him. Putting him down now might be a mercy. "You Yarrick? Your people back at the camp talked 'bout ya. Didn' say it outright but they wanted you back safe'n'sound." Though she quietly doubts they'd take him at this point.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Medicine check to see if knows anything about his affliction, even tangentially related: (1d20+5)[*7*]



*Spoiler: Mineva's Mental Notes*
Show


*Spoiler: People*
Show


*Refugee Camp*
Yvonne - Paladin (red). 
Soldiers - Kinda useless honestly!
Lady Temperance Du Azeric - Noble lady, decent swordswoman, looking for her family in the fog. 
Maria (Temperance's Maid) - Nice lass, probably best she doesn't come along though. Possibly going to Count Albret's estate.



*Spoiler: Non-Party Quests*
Show


*Find Temperance's Family* - They're probably dead, but we should try anyway. Best chance is the Du Azeric estate.
*Chapelbound Paladins* - Yvonne's fellows were headed to St. Annelise's Chapel - mounted. Likely at least a day or two away to the north. Also probably dead or cursed or both.
*Yarrick the Brave* - The one soldier who went into the fog. Has one of the two keys for it. Given the short distance he might've made it to safety. If he's lucky.




*Spoiler: Misc.*
Show


None (yet)

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --



_"Peace, man.  Would you like to sit down and rest for a moment now that we are here?  It sounds like you've had a rough time of it and could use a bit of rest."_
Tair studies the man to try to determine what's going on, while trying to keep him from snapping any further.  
*Spoiler*
Show


Persuasion (1d20+4)[*9*]
Insight (1d20+6)[*14*]
Medicine (1d20+3)[*22*]

----------


## Ophiuchus

*Hnefa Úlfsdóttir*
Giantblood Rune Knight
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 15 PInv: 9 PIns: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Hnefa had remained outside to guard their rear.  Losing patience, she calls out "What's going on in there?"

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

In Rantah's village, there are abilities that are passed from a generation to the next. Outsiders would call them magic, but to the greenskins, they are simply a manifestation of their god's power. One of them is used to accelerate healing, although saving people from mortal wounds or curing terminal diseases is extremely hard and usually takes the most talented users among the greenskins. Rantah was not a specialist, but she made sure to learn the basics as she grew up.

But now, as Rugir's chosen champion, she had a feeling she could use it to achieve healing way beyond what any greenskin could normally do.

This was probably a dumb move, though, as the man looked dangerous, but Rantah felt like she just had to do something to help him.

*Spoiler: Action*
Show

Use Lay on Hands to try to heal the man's disease.

----------


## The Hellbug

Among the first to enter the tower, Germonde is absolutely shocked by what he sees.  The senseless muttering, the horrible picture on the wall, the mangled man in front of them, made worse by the fact that Germonde has a nagging suspicion that he inflicted those wounds on himself, the noble fencer wouldn't consider himself a weak-hearted man, but other members of the group are already moving forward to try to help and this really is a gruesome scene and there's that question from outside.  He steps out to find what air he can, passing Hnefa at the door.  *"It's that soldier we heard about,"* he answers, finding the fog-shrouded air less than the antidote he had hoped, *"Yarrick was it?  It's safe in there, I think, but what's happened to him is horrible.  He's gone and...it'd be better just to look for yourself, I think."*

----------


## Ophiuchus

*Hnefa Úlfsdóttir*
Giantblood Rune Knight
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 15 PInv: 9 PIns: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --



Hnefa's eyes widen with the news.  She lowers her head and enters.  " What's the-oh..."  She cups her hand over her nose and mouth as she approaches the broken man, trying to discern if the wounds were caused by claw or blade, or something else.  "Can we get some light in here?"

----------


## Spore

*Tarig, Sage of the Deep Woods*
Human Mercy Monk
AC: 17 HP: 38/38 
Ki: 4/5 Stance: -
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Tarig winced a bit as he saw the disfigured man but he took a deep breath and cradles the insane man with one hand as another glows faintly as the monk touches the wounded man's collar bone.

*Spoiler*
Show

Healing Hand (1d6+3)[*5*] I hope this helps at least with open wounds. Healing old wounds like that is a slippery slope I can accept that the magic does nothing.

----------


## Awful

The man gives a long, broken lowing, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
"Yarrick- a Yarrick, marick, parick- oh mama, I've seen it."
The blinded soldier is obviously missing his eyes, and his body is battered and bloody through his raggedy armour, but he's mess enough the Du Tiger can't tell any cause or consequence beyond the obvious.

The giantsblood has a bit more success. The poor mutilated soldier sighs in relief as some of the infected swelling along his jaw reduces at the paladin's touch, his wounds less raw at the old man's. His tics and mutterings slightly reduced, perhaps more in relief of pain than anything the bishop says.

Hnefa can see it looks like many of his wounds are savage tearing injuries, as if by claw or jagged blade, but his eyes - the residue along his cheeks and nose suggest they did nothing less than _burst_, though the God-In-Two only knows what could have caused that.

There's a creak at the door as Temperance barrels in. Her gleaming rapier is drawn, and her voice is tightly controlled when she speaks. She recoils at the sight of the ruined man, but a sound from outside has her slam it shut and back away from the door, blade held ready.
*
"There's things approaching - at least a half-dozen,"* she says, voice flinty sharp.* "I didn't see them clearly - but they didn't move like people. And- can you smell that?"*

A faint smell is detectable - foul and sweet, the scent of rot.

The soldier giggles, each exclamation dripping from his chapped lips like a nail into a coffin.

"Mama's back," he says, sing-song, "And now you'll see, too, see like me-"

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --



"Check to make sure there's not another way in we're not guarding, then let's set up around the door."  Bishop Flan walks over to the man decisively.  "Whatever has happened has affected your mind.  Be healed."  (he casts _Remove Curse_)

"Yarrick.  How do you feel now?"

The Bishop is suggesting setting up a U-shaped killbox at the door, so enemies have enough room to come in only one at a time, where three to five of the party can surround them.

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: Pass Without Trace (1 hour) | 

Mineva acts quickly, tugging Kibeth first into one of the empty areas for horses out of the way, and then dragging parts of the shattered crates and boxes towards the door, to serve as cover and to slow the _thing's_ advance. "Things stink o'rot." She lights a torch, bringing radiance to the room they're in, before tossing it forwards to leave her hands free. If she had more time she might have used it to fashion flaming arrows, but if the rotters were so close then she'd have to make do. Pyrani doesn't need instructions, they're already waiting to fight, body tense, claws sharp, teeth bared. 

"Two drinks says I take down the most." It's a tension breaker, for her and the others, as she tugs an arrow from her quiver and readies it. They'd all be fighting for their life, so it's not their motivation she's concerned about, it's them panicking. A boast of levity might help, or so she hopes. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


If Remove Curse doesn't seem to do anything, I suggest we tie Yarrick up/down in case he acts up during the fight. 



*Spoiler: Mineva's Mental Notes*
Show


*Spoiler: People*
Show


*Refugee Camp*
Yvonne - Paladin (red). 
Soldiers - Kinda useless honestly!
Lady Temperance Du Azeric - Noble lady, decent swordswoman, looking for her family in the fog. 
Maria (Temperance's Maid) - Nice lass, probably best she doesn't come along though. Possibly going to Count Albret's estate.



*Spoiler: Non-Party Quests*
Show


*Find Temperance's Family* - They're probably dead, but we should try anyway. Best chance is the Du Azeric estate.
*Chapelbound Paladins* - Yvonne's fellows were headed to St. Annelise's Chapel - mounted. Likely at least a day or two away to the north. Also probably dead or cursed or both.
*Yarrick the Brave* - The one soldier who went into the fog. Has one of the two keys for it. Seems pretty cursed.




*Spoiler: Misc.*
Show


None (yet)

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 18 + 2 HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: Shield of Faith

"Only two? Sounds like you don't think you are going to win! Deal." - Rantah replies, noticing the human's intent and playing along.

Then she touches the bear fang on her necklace, and light comes out of it. It then surrounds Rantah's body and takes its shape, as a second skin, before disappearing. But the magic is still there.

Rantah then takes a combat stance right in front of the door, at the center of the U formation they are making, ready to be the first thing the enemy sees when it enters.

*Spoiler: Action*
Show

Cast Shield of Faith on myself. Ac is now 20.

----------


## Ophiuchus

[QUOTE=Ophiuchus;25672810]
*Hnefa Úlfsdóttir*
Giantblood Rune Knight
AC: 17 HP: 44/44
PP: 15 PInv: 9 PIns: 12
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --



Hnefa grips her trident with both hands, approaching the door from the hinge position.  She presses her massive shoulder against it.  "Let them fight the door first! And we'll chop off whatever limbs that get through!"

----------


## The Hellbug

Germonde is quick on Lady Temperance's heels on the way back into the stables.  He quickly scans the room in response to the bishop's suggestion, mostly looking for some way up to the rest of the tower, but there's nothing--no stairs, no ladder, nothing.  *"One way in,"* he answers, *"but only one way out, too.  If they're happy just cooping us up here, that door turns against us."*

Nevertheless, he takes a position beside the other warriors, raising his shield, firming his grip on his weapon, and waiting for the enemy to make a try at the door.

----------


## Awful

The bishop's magic sinks into the man, and he groans, long and low, like a wounded animal. Without any warning, he crumples forward onto his face. A check on his pulse reveals it erratic, unsteady, but the man's alive - simply unconcious, and he's moved to the back out the way.

The group get into position. For a long moment, they stare the door, waiting for the foe.

Scraping sounds outside reveal something directly outside. Another moment of silence, and then-
*
Bam. Bam. Bam.*

Something knocks on the door, a triple stattaco of hard knocks strong enough the bulky door rattles in its frame a little.

Then a voice speaks.

*Spoiler*
Show






*"Oh, little ones, I smell you in there. Won't you come out to say hello?"*

It's a horrible, gurgling voice, wet and harsh, like that of a man drowned in gore. The stink of rot gets stronger, creeping around the rim of the door.

*Bam. Bam. Bam.* 

The door creaks under the strength of the impacts.

*"Oh, little ones. Open the door and let me in. I have something to show you."*

Now a cluster of other grave-voices join in. Grating and groaning, wheezing and pained, they sound out.

_Help us- let us in- come out- you'll see- it hurts- let us in-_

_Bam. Bam. Bam._ 

Things scrabble at the wood, something screeching off the iron banding.

*"God-in-two, protect us,"* Temperance says shakily. The point of her rapier, leveled at the door, quivers slightly.

*"Come out, little ones. Open the door. Don't you want to see?"*

One of the boards of the door, thick oak, cracks as they're dented in. Through the sliver-like gaps, shines in an awful light. It's a cold light, chilling whatever it shines, but there's a sort of- pattern in it, showing something much bigger, but the amount spilling through the cracks so far means that you can't get an impression of what it means.

----------


## J-H

*Bishop Tair Flan*
Human Light Cleric
AC: 19 HP: 38/38
PP: 16 PIv: 10 PIs: 16 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: Bless (Temperance, Rantah, Tarig, Hnefa)



_"Protection indeed, through both defense and attack."_  The Bishop casts _Bless_ on Temperance, Rantah, Tarig, and Hnefa.

(2nd level)

----------


## Ninja Dragon

*Rantah Mograth*
Half-Orc Ancients Paladin
AC: 20 (18+2) HP: 44/44
PP: 11 PInv: 10 PIns: 14 
Conditions: --
Concentrating: Shield of Faith

A chill goes through the half-orc's spine as she hears the voice, but she has come to this place expecting much worse. It is time to prove her worth.

She calmly pulls her halberd back and prepares to slash the thing behind the door as soon as it exposes itself.

*Spoiler*
Show


Ready an attack: 13. Damage: 8
Iniatiative: 9

----------


## Amnestic

*Mineva Du Tiger, Pyrani*
Human Drakewarden Ranger | Drake
AC: 17 HP: 44/44 | AC: 17 HP: 30/30
PP: 18 PIv: 9 PIs: 15 | PP: 12 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- | Draconic Essence: Acid
Concentrating: Pass Without Trace (1 hour) | 

Mineva knocks an arrow to her bow. *"You know what to do."* She holds back from drawing it to its full strength just yet, that was a rookie mistake. She was fast enough on the draw and loose she could wait to aim.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Initiative: (1d20+5)[*18*]

Mineva:-
*Ready Action:*  Longbow shot the first thing she can hit through the door. (1d20+10)[*17*] *Damage:* (1d8+5)[*7*]
*Bonus Action:* Command Pyrani to ready for an attack.

Pyrani:-
*Ready Action:* Bite: (1d20+6)[*17*] *Damage:* (1d6+3)[*4*]



*Spoiler: Mineva's Mental Notes*
Show


*Spoiler: People*
Show


*Refugee Camp*
Yvonne - Paladin (red). 
Soldiers - Kinda useless honestly!
Lady Temperance Du Azeric - Noble lady, decent swordswoman, looking for her family in the fog. 
Maria (Temperance's Maid) - Nice lass, probably best she doesn't come along though. Possibly going to Count Albret's estate.



*Spoiler: Non-Party Quests*
Show


*Find Temperance's Family* - They're probably dead, but we should try anyway. Best chance is the Du Azeric estate.
*Chapelbound Paladins* - Yvonne's fellows were headed to St. Annelise's Chapel - mounted. Likely at least a day or two away to the north. Also probably dead or cursed or both.
*Yarrick the Brave* - The one soldier who went into the fog. Has one of the two keys for it. Seems pretty cursed.




*Spoiler: Misc.*
Show


None (yet)




[/QUOTE]

----------


## The Hellbug

Germonde braces himself with each blow against the door, waiting for the one that will finally do it in.  He's unsure if gathering around the door to meet whatever's outside is as good a plan as it initially sounded, but there's no time to change course.  From what Lady Temperance had seen, he hadn't expected something that could get through a stout door so quickly, and his thoughts go again to the condition of the lone legionnaire now unconscious on the ground behind him.  With that in mind, the warrior steadies his breathing as he sheaths his blade, focuses on a muttered prayer in his people's ancient tongue as he draws the well-worn battleax he's carried since the camp, and waits for the door to break.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Just putting away my sword and drawing the ax.

Initiative: (1d20+3)[*13*]

----------

