Roll 2 Dodge: Invictus

"Can we go now? I'm hungry."

Lame action is lame.

Rulyon:
Peel myself off the dead-horse cover and regain my footing.

You brush off your clothes and get away from the disgusting carcass, already covered in flies. And to make it even better, there's blood on your shirt. Ah, well. That's the price you pay for accepting this dupe of a mission. Was it a cover up? Who knows. But you definitely have some questions for Feris back at camp.

"Did everyone take the same message from them that I did? It sounds like they are looking for someone back at camp. Should we go back and warn them? They said something about an Oathbreaker."

AerynPierre:
Stands up, loosely keeping his bow at the ready...where all he has to do is pull, aim, and let fly if something comes up. Looks around slowly one more time before turning his attention to Kyric.

A twig snaps behind you; spinning around, you pull back your crossbow and...

"Oh, it's you Atem."

Atem is busy inspecting the bodies for valuables. Go figure.

Taking a careful look around, you're finally satisfied when nothing looks out of the ordinary.

You respond to Kyric. "We could, but our task seems urgent if we are to retrieve that document. I feel that for them to send us after it in such a way, it will be of great importance..."

"That may be true... but what if we were deceived?" Kyric says. It was a troubling possibility. Perhaps being sent out ahead to find these "lost" documents was merely a ruse. What if we're the distraction allowing this Oathbreaker to escape? We've already come under attack, and survived more through luck than any effort on our part. I'll not be a sacrificial lamb for some criminal escaping justice."

"Well, it was the Rector who sent us on this mission... I can't imagine why he would be trying to help a fugitive escape justice."

Flamelasher:
Loot the amulets and the crossbow, and check for bolts and gold.

Might as well make the most of the situation. You appraise the crossbow... it seems in good condition, Union standard, not too many signs of wear. A couple of the bolts snapped when the man fell from the tree, but there are still several intact.

No gold on him. A pity. What kind of soldiers are these? Who doesn't carry currency with them?

Those amulets look valuable, though. What's up with that funky symbol?

You take the amulets from the men's necks, and...

6

Immediately you sense some sort of... energy or power in them. They weigh down your hand. A strange urge comes over you, and you start to put it on, but you realize how foolish it would be to be playing with magical artifacts haphazardly.

You toss one to Emaldeth. "Take a look at this. Something's strange about it... I can't put my finger on it."

You pocket the amulet for now, careful not to damage it.

Talkal:
"Can we go now? I'm hungry."

You catch the amulet from Atem, and a strange feeling comes over you. It's probably just your stomach, though. It's been hours since you ate last, and you'd rather not eat your pack rations.

"Can we go now? I'm hungry."

Putting the amulet in your pack for now, you lean against a tree, impatient to leave.

---

Where will you go from here?

Character Sheets:

We're in the middle of the forest, on foot, with hours-long walk before either destination. We have no information available to us to determine which would be the smarter decision to make: Continue on foot searching for the documents, or return to the group. I can't shake the feeling, however, that the "missing" documents aren't missing at all... our illustrious captain stole them and sent us on a snipe hunt so we could distract the searchers and he could get away. But if there's some power taking over bodies searching for it, a presence that clearly decided to let us live since we weren't the ones it's looking for, perhaps the best thing to do would be to continue down the street and see what develops. That's my vote.

Continue down the road in our original direction of travel.

My rampant internet problems should be fixed after a complete reset of my computer, so I'll start writing the update ASAP!

Spoiler:

You all agree with Emaldeth... it would be best to leave as soon as possible. Where, you do not know; either way seems treacherous, and going forwards or backwards could lead you astray.

Why are you here in the first place? What is the true purpose of your mission? With the arrival of those decidedly uncanny beings, this... forest jaunt doesn't seem so innocent anymore. There has to be something else to this.

Kyric sums up your collective thoughts.

"So. We're in the middle of the forest, on foot, with hours-long walk before either destination. We have no information available to us to determine which would be the smarter decision to make: Continue on foot searching for the documents, or return to our group. I can't shake the feeling, however, that the "missing" documents aren't missing at all... our illustrious captain may have stolen them and sent us on a snipe hunt to distract the searchers and let him get away. But if there's some power taking over bodies searching for it, a presence that clearly decided to let us live since we weren't the ones it's looking for, perhaps the best thing to do would be to continue down the road and see what develops. That's my vote."

The rest of you mumble your agreements.

Atem looks at his shortbow and crossbow, trying to decide between the two, and finally shrugs.

Flamelasher:
"Anyone want this crossbow and it's bolts? I've got my shortbow."

No one claims it, so you stuff the two in your pack for now. Perhaps you could sell them once you get to whatever village you're heading to.

Earnan shifts nervously. "I also have a bad feeling about this... let's stay out of the road - maybe go along the treeline or within the fringe of the forest. Out of sight."

You turn your heads to the fading sun, setting the horizon on fire with its glorious rays. An endless path of trees await you, and it will be nightfall before your journey's end.

Jumping off the embankment, you land jarringly on the dusty, gravel road. Gathering your remaining possessions from where they lay scattered on the ground, you turn north-east under the shadow of the trees, and leave the horse corpses behind. Already, carrion birds were flocking to the site, and when you are a good distance away, they begin their grisly work. A flock of crows brushes over your head, tearing at your heads and cawing all the while.

As ill an omen as you could imagine.

---

Five hours later.

You squint your eyes at the dilapidated sign nailed to a fallen tree.

"Does that say By-river?"

You almost regret your decision not to purchase the dubious looking lanterns from the equally dubious peddler you passed on the road. You've been going on like this forever, it seemed - there were so many roads and by-roads and deer trails, and all of them looked the same. One would think that the largest (a.k.a. only) town-ship in... any number of miles would be fairly easy to locate, but every log house, dog house, and half-baked excuse for a Clanhall - the people still had clans here, for the gods' sake - had their own cordoned off section of land with no distinguishable traits other than their names; most of which were strikingly similar.

And the locals were no help either. The usual bunch spoke a strange dialect of Askad that made communicating nearly impossible. Every time you asked for By-river or pantomimed food and drink, they would laugh, pound you on the backs with their enormous, meaty hands, and then proceed to lead you to their respective halls and parade you - "oschtidurs" they called you - in front of their droves of relatives.

"'Bai-Rivvr - tunr eest'. Yeah, that's probably it."

---

The township was rather impressive, considering its neighbors. It came fully stocked with an inn - the Hairy Goblin Inn (and Lodgings) - a small weapons store, a couple dozen or so odd homes scattered about, the By-River Trading Center, some other booths for which you could not discern a purpose, and a roped-off section for an open-air assembly.

The largest house in the town (still small by modern standards) had a large sign in front that said,

"ASSEMBLY HOUSE for the
OFFICIAL BUSINESS of
the ASSOCIATION of
INDEPENDENT AUTHORITIES
of LANDRY PROVINCE"

Covering all their bases, you suppose. What was strange was that there were three doors to the house, one labeled "OFFICIAL BUSINESS," one labeled "PLEASURE BUSINESS," and one labelled "BUSINESS MATTERS." Peering in the window, you could see that they all led to the same room. Rather redundant. Nowhere did it say who owned the house, or who was dealing with all the "BUSINESS," but clearly someone was pulling ALL the strings in the town, despite their obvious care with using democratic terms.

The lights are still on in the inn - which had its doors thrown open with laughter and customers rolling out - as well as the Assembly House. The weapons store has a dim lamp lit in the window. The Trading Store was open with its door ajar, and two men were talking outside of it - both of whom had obviously visited the bar recently. The rest of the town was silent and empty, though. Its inhabitants were probably either sleeping (or trying to) or in the bar.

Where will you head first?

Character Sheets:

"FOOD AND BEER! You, good man, are a genius! And me for the BEER part!"

Back from Thanksgiving vacation and such and ready to roll! (Pun not intended at first but couldn't leave it out.)

Probably tomorrow.

How were your vacations?

Back from Thanksgiving vacation and such and ready to roll! (Pun not intended at first but couldn't leave it out.)

Probably tomorrow.

How were your vacations?

The whole week waking up at 4 AM, coming back home at 10PM, only thursday was free.

Don't think I've forgotten you guys, because I haven't!

I've just been neglecting you!

Pretty much this whole last month has been crazy with projects to finish and finals to study for... in my free time I either had writer's block or had other higher priorities (a.k.a. I don't care about you guys) .

Thanks for being patient (as I suppose you have been)!

Indeed we have been. Holiday season and all.

I missed your "How was your vacations?" question. A somewhat belated answer:

It was great! Papaw and Memaw were able to join us again this year. I don't voice this aloud for concern of worrying or scaring my wife, but every passing year when I see her grandparents I think "This is probably the last time we'll be able to enjoy their company and benefit from their wisdom during the holidays."

But they always prove me wrong and show me how strong they really are!

Spoiler:

After an extensive discussion, you all decide to head to the bar/inn first to satisfy your need for information and copious amounts of sustenance.

Extensive Discussion:

It looks well enough from the outside. A warm yellow light is seeping out from under the large double doors, sounds of laughter and singing coming from inside..

You open the large oaken doors, and a few cheers of welcome greet you from the crowd inside.

"Looks like more people are in the inn than there are living in the entire town," Atem mutters.

It's obvious that you're not the only foreigners in town. An odd assortment of travelers were scattered around the bar. In one corner, an old man in a cloak was talking furtively to a large group of rather short, burly men. Scattered throughout the bar were numerous soldiers, attempting to look inconspicuous but constantly looking over their shoulders.

You walk past one of them and whisper into his ear, "How goes the war?"

He blanches and nearly falls out of his chair, causing a general laugh. It's well known that the R.A.N. is not doing well in their effort to unite their diverse nation. An impossible task. There are so many different cultures, religions, sects, cults, and individual groups only concerned with killing each other off that keeping a massacre from occurring is the best that can be accomplished.

Many of the drafted recruits of the once proud army abandoned the task after a particularly nasty skirmish. Not many reports came back from the battle, and the official stance was obviously glossed over. Everyone who heard about it could tell that it was obviously a R.A.N. defeat.

But other rumors came back, probably from the deserters. Dark rumors. Creatures of the night, preying on the weak. Bodies found lifeless, drained. Little is known of the lands north of the Eldrik Mountains. In the R.A.N's lust for land and power, something could have been found that should best be left alone.

Of course, the first thing that comes to mind are the Vampiric Lords: blood-drinking, shapeshifting, children stealing beasts that blacken as their bodies burn in the sunlight, but those have always been just legend. But perhaps, a legend with a hint of truth? A troubling possibility.

As you walk up to the counter, a man at the bar turns around to look at you. His hood covers most of his head, but his ears -- his pointed ears -- are unmistakable.

"An elf," Kyric whispers. Many of the other patrons had noticed him as well, and not with kindness. Elves are generally mistrusted and avoided, even in the parts of the wide world where they are welcome. Wherever they are, it seems, great deeds -- fell acts, whether dark or otherwise -- follow them. Some say that they are immortal. Few enough have been seen dead or dying to prove or disprove this, and none of their race has deigned to speak on it. A secretive race, elves are.

"What could he want?" Earnan replies softly. As if in response, the elf's ears flatten against his head and the cloak is pulled farther over his head. You walk up to the bar, keeping a safe distance away from the elf, and call the barman over.

He's professionally jolly, with a pronounced paunch, undoubtedly from years of having direct access to the network of food that floats around inns and bars. You notice that he's wearing long, flowing robes similar to those of some of your counterparts at the Church.

"What can I do for you, strangers?"

"We'd each like a hot meal," Emaldeth says eagerly.
"And a mug of ale."

"Ah, excited to be back in an inn, I'd say," the man laughs. "Well, let me promise you that you won't be disappointed. The Hairy Goblin lives up to its name!"

"Oh... does it..."

"It sure does! And that will be 3 fragmae from each of you for the meal... Free if you buy a room for 7 fragmae... though I suppose with a group your size you'll need two rooms... you'll think about it? Great. Take a seat and I'll put it all on your tab. Name's Roald, by the way. Oh, and where did you say you were from?"

Well, with your uniforms it's obvious enough...

"We're church couriers."

For an instant he looks startled, and his eyes flicker to a corner of the room. You sneak a quick peek, but nothing's there. Then he recovers and smiles -- perhaps a little more guarded than before.

"Is that right... Well go take a seat. I'll be with you in a moment."

You each take a seat, feeling slightly perturbed.

"Did you see that?"
"He looked a bit scared."
"I don't see why he should be. It's not like we're very threatening at the moment."
"He said his name was Roald... I wonder where Selma is?"

Before you have time to speculate, Roald comes back, looking rather red in the face, with a large tray full of food. Putting it down with a sigh of relief, he doles out the portions to you.

"Er..." he says softly, "might I have a private chat with you?"

"Well, we're rather busy right now if you haven't noticed, and we're all starving."

He glowers at you, but walks back to his counter. You find it harder to eat with his stare boring into the back of your heads, but the food is delicious, and you finish it without complaint. Ready for some information, you walk back to the bar, noticing that the elf has gone.

"I still need to have a chat with you before you leave." Roald looks around quickly.

"We need to have a talk with you too," Atem replies. "About Selma."

"Oh, so you would like a room?" Roald says loudly and enthusiastically, "Well follow me! I'll show you where you'll be staying."

"What? But we di-"

"Right this way!" You start to argue, but he puts his burly arms around your shoulders and walks you through a door behind the bar and shuts it quickly.

"It's pitch black in here!"

"Wait just a moment..." Roald grabs a lamp from a nearby table and turns it on. The flickering light does little to help visibility, but at least your not tripping over boxes, of which there are many. It looks like you're in some sort of large storage room... didn't he say you were going to your lodgings?

Roald pulls a key out of his pocket and locks the door before any of you can protest.

"Sorry," he apologizes with a shaky smile, "but didn't want to bother the other customers with business chats and such."

"So about Se-"

"WAIT! Just... one... second."

Roald grabs a bowl full of water from the nearby table and sits down with it. Pulling out a few small objects from his robes, he drops them in the bowl and mutters a few words over it. Suddenly, the water swirls and lights begin to play over the surface of the water, glowing and flickering with the light of the lantern as if some strange spirit was inside.

"You're... a wizard..." You all step back warily. Who knows what a magician is doing as a bartender in a small town?

Roald laughs. "Wizard enough. Take a look."

Slowly edging towards the bowl, you lean over to see...

"It's the bar! You just made it appear in this bowl!"

He nods. "Now look closer. Can you see them?"

"See what?" There's nothing there but an empty table and chairs.

"Oh. You can't see them?" He sounds almost relieved. "Wait one moment... there. This should distract them." Some strain is evident on his face, but no change can be seen in the bowl...

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF-"

"QUIET! Others could be listening."

Four soldiers appeared at the seemingly empty table. They were looking into a bowl similar to the one Roald had, and you could barely make out five figures within it...

"They're watching us!"

"Aye. But watch this."

One of the men looks up for a second, and blanches. He whispers to the group, and the four men scramble out of their chairs and disappear out of sight. Roald ends the spell with a swish of his hand.

"Heh. He finally realized that someone could see him."

"But how did they make themselves invisible like that?"

"A simple Concealment spell. Glaringly obvious to any magic users, but does a fair job with the common crowd."

"So that means... we're..."

"Not magic users. Sorry. But, that could change. Most magic users are born, but some are made."

"Were you...?"

"That's a very personal question, you know," Roald snaps. "I'm much more interested about you... What do you want with Selma?"

Should you tell him, now that he's more of a threat than you expected?

Sensing your hesitancy, Roald stands up to his full height, not a small task. "I'm warning you... As you've seen, I'm an adept magic user, and anyone wishing to speak to Selma has to go through me."

A voice comes from behind you. "Is that so?"

You turn around, backing up against the wall, to see the four soldiers. Two of them have their hands on the hilts of their weapons, while the speaker is pointing a drawn bow at Roald. One of the men is unarmed, and is leaning against the door looking rather weary but self-satisfied.

"Well," the man continues, "the Lord Viktor has a message for Selma, and if she is not brought here immediately, we will have to go through you. This arrow, to be specific."

The man finally looks at you. "Ah! The couriers. Thank you for the safe delivery of the letter. Where is Selma? I suppose this brute," Roald glares at him, "is keeping you from telling us."

"Wait one second," Earnan says, "We never delivered the letter."

"What...?"

"It was stolen from us as we were escorting it... a couple men were killed."

"Wait -- this is still about that letter?" Roald looks annoyed at being ignored. "I told you already, Selma already got it..."

"Well how do you know she received the letter if it was stolen?" The soldier was getting increasingly frustrated.

"One of your soldier boys came to me and asked where Selma was, I told him Selma was in the- I told him where Selma was, and he went there, and Selma contacted me and said she it. She told me not to let anyone else come to her about the letter."

"And what about the messenger?"

"He... uh... didn't come back."

"What do you mean he didn't come back?!"

"Well, Blackwood Forest is a dangerous place," Roald said carefully, "and uh... oh. BY THE GODS, ROALD WATCH YOUR MOUTH!"

"So, she's in the forest?" The soldier smirks ever so slightly. "Right. Terrell, Pyle, stay here and watch the barman. He knows magic, so if he makes one false move, gut him." These words were obviously meant more for Roald's sake than that of the soldiers', but they had their intended effect. Roald sat down subdued.

He continued. "Cleff, come with me -- if Selma has gone rogue, we may need a magician."

"Yes, Lieutenant Rupin."

"And you -- couriers -- come with me, and you could redeem yourself for your absolutely shoddy work."

Ouch. As if you had any real part in the failure of this mission. You start to protest, but suddenly a loud crash is heard outside the door. Everyone dives away from the doorway out of instinct, except for Roald -- he stays in his seat, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"SELMA! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!?"

You look out the doorway, and slowly a matronly woman, looking about 40 years of age, comes into view. She had been lying motionless on the ground.

You hear her voice, quiet as a whisper, yet magnified throughout the entire inn.

"Help me... they are coming."

Suddenly, a section of the wall is blasted open, and eight men come running through the entrance. The other patrons of the bar begin to panic; the old man covers his bearded associates with his robe and vanishes, the deserters scramble out of side doors as fast as their legs can take them, several woman faint, the whole scene is chaos. The new arrivals surround Selma -- two of them archers, four with swords and axes, and two with eldritch flame shimmering around their hands, one of them hooded. The hooded magician raises his hands, and speaks in a whisper that echoes as Selma's voice did...

"His anger was great, Oathbreaker. It should not have been ours to take. But now it is time for you to pay your penance."

Oathbreaker...

And with this, he raised his hands, and...

"NO!"

Roald gets out of his chair, a feral snarl on his face, and shoves you out of the way.

"FOOL!" Lieutenant Rupin yells. He draws back his bow and lets fly at Roald; the arrow lodges in his shoulder, and Roald stumbles and falls on top of the bar. He stands back up and throws an object into the air...

"Uldur!" he yells, and a ball of fire shoots out from his left arm. It flies towards the hooded one with unnatural speed. The magician turns around faster than the eye can see, and catches the fireball, which dissipates as quickly as it came into being.

The man takes off his hood, and your suspicions are confirmed. A golden amulet is dangling from his neck.

Lieutenant Rupin is relieved that the magician is unharmed, and steps forward to apprehend Roald.

"My apologies, sir, for our prisoner's untimely interruption."

"Rupin, you don't know who you're dealing with here," Atem warns.

But the hooded one only smiles. "Fluga," he whispers. A dagger comes whistling out of his robes towards Rupin, who shields himself in fear. He screams as the blade pierces his hand and fixes it to the wall.

"Kill them all," the magician whispers. "No witnesses this time."

Enemy Status:

Who will you side with?
What will you do?

Character Sheets:

Draw my short short and power-charge at the soldier nearest me, hoping my quick action will take him by surprise. Try to bowl the soldier over and (if successful), strike at the next soldier in line. Regardless of what happens...Step back and lift my sword in a defensive stance.

If Talkal and Flamelasher do not post an action by Friday, January 20th, they will be removed from the game in an interesting manner ( ) and replaced until spots open up for them again.

I'm really wondering why there's been such supreme disinterest in this game. I hope its only lack of activity.

I realize that my GMing has many faults at the moment, and I will do my best to repair these. Trust me, it gets better This is only the beginning. Don't judge me too harshly yet.

There is definitely not a problem with your gming.

I messaged Talkal, hopefully he posts soon. But FLAMELASHER has not been on since Nov 14, I figure that he will almost certainly be removed.

Aeryn is indeed right. Talkal has been scarce, as has FLAMELASHER. Continue with the game as soon as is convenient for you, please!

Sorry for being late, too much to learn.

Throw knives at the archers. After that draw the sword aattack nearest soldier, and grab his sword.