DISCLAIMER
Due to the graphic nature and possible adult themes of the following adventure, be advised that any and all lurking readers proceed at their own risk with the warning that this adventure May contain scenes and references that Some May find to be too sensitive or offensive for their literary tastes.

OPENING SCENARIO
[We will employ an extremely loose interpretation of the actual Aihrde fantasy adventure setting published by Castles & Crusades for the background history of our Haunted Highlands adventure here at the Red Dragon Inn, especially in reference to the fictitious lands somewhere to the south from where our adventure begins!]

Upon the bloody northern marches lies a curious Roadhouse. Here are gathered the flotsam of the world: miscreants, mercenaries, soldiers of fortune and adventurers. Dirty Bowbe's they call it and it's as rough and safe a sanctuary as any will find in those dark and bloody grounds!

For once, long ago, a kingdom thrived here and the wealth of its coffers flowed across the lands as honey from a jar. But those days are long past and nothing but memories remain ..... memories and the shadows of yesterday.

A battle hardened Human and former mercenary now going by the name of Adaf Adshead has gathered five wagons loaded with iron ore and other metals to make the dangerous journey from the turmoil-torn southern regions that are separated from the Haunted Highlands by a hostile mountain range that ordinarily takes 6-8 weeks to traverse.

There is a vast verdant valley of several thousand square miles spreading south of these mountains, bordered on the east by a mysterious dark forest, on the west by an eerie rain forest and on the south by foothills and plains that stretch to a swamp-bordered inland fresh water sea.

Within these southern regions has raged a 15 year civil war known as The Noble Wars where dozens of Nobles and their minions have battled to expand their influence and control within the fertile valley, as well as in the regions where they hold sway, without significant change or expansion.

Another 5 years of uneasy truce have been dotted with border skirmishes among the warring factions and splinter groups of these various Nobles.

Having had his fill of The Noble Wars and the recent years of repercussions, Adaf Adshead has assembled a small band of adventurers to accompany his 5 wagons [to serve as escorts and protectors!] at an obscure location in the north central area of the valley, where a hidden passage into the heart of the mountain range offers the opportunity for a new life to those bold enough to meet the challenge.

These hired protectors have also had their fill of The Noble Wars and the repercussions of these past five years, having agreed to face the dangers of the unkinown in exchange for an undisclosed Magical Weapon and 100 Gold Pieces, once the wagons and cargo are safely inside the fabled Roadhouse.

PC CHARACTERS
Each PC is a Level 3 Class and upon arrival at the Roadhouse each Character will receive an additional 2500 Experience Points [once the wagons are safely inside the Roadhouse!] to account for their prevailing against an assortment of Human Bandits, Goblinoids and Orcs that have ambushed and thus delayed the progress of the wagon train during the past 12 weeks.

Additional Experience Points will be awarded to each corresponding PC Character as each RL Player scripts a backstory, including the PC Character's account of the 12 week journey to the Roadhouse.

Your PC Characters and the wagon train have just now emerged from the surrounding woodland into a clearing, under the duress of a heavy spring rain falling from dark and ominous overcast skies.

You can barely see the hazy outline of the 10 foot high sharpened timbers that comprise the Palisade that surrounds Dirty's Roadhouse about 100 feet away.

All you know is that the Dwarf named Udru Ironhammer who runs the Smithy inside Dirty Bowbe's Roadhouse is an old friend of Adaf Adshead and that he is in dire need of the materials being transported by the wagon train.

You Do Not Know Why at the Present Time!

You are just glad that the destination is finally in sight and that you will be rewarded by Adaf Adshead with a Magical Weapon and 100 GP for your valiant efforts these past several weeks!

After the Wagons are Safely Inside the Roadhouse!

We will begin the adventure after each PC Character is introduced below with a post including:

1. Character Description
2. History Background
3. Description of the 12 Week Journey from your PC Character's point of view

Each of you are allowed certain poetic/literary license in regards to writing your History Background, including naming a Noble when describing your PC Character history from the south regional references that were mentioned in the Opening Scenario above.

Race: Gnome

Class: Cleric [Wisdom Prime]

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Religion/Diety: To Be Determined when the new Castles & Crusades book titled "Of Gods & Monsters" is released [Projected to be released at Troll Con in Little Rock, Arkansas July 10-12]

Level: 3

Language Proficiency: Common, Dwarf, Elf, Gnome, Goblin, Kobold

Racial Abilities: Animal Empathy, Combat Expertise (Goblins, Kobolds), Darkvision, Enhanced Hearing (+3 bonus to all listening checks), Spells (Dancing Lights, Ghost Sound, Prestidigitation once per day in addition to any spells available to Gnomes of spellcasting character classes)

Movement: 20 feet

Strength: 13 [Gnome Race Modifier -1] 12

Dexterity: 13

Constitution: 15

Intelligence: 17 [Gnome Race Modifier +1] 18

Wisdom: 18 [Prime]

Charisma: 17 [Prime]

Spells Level 0: 4 (Create Water, Endure Elements, First Aid, Purify Food and Drink)

Spells Level 1: 2 + 1 Bonus Spell (Cure Light Wounds, Detect Undead + Sound Burst)

Spells Level 2: 1 + 1 Bonus Spell (Consecrate + Spiritual Weapon)

Age: 80

Gender: Male

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: None/No Hair

Height: 4 feet

Weight: 80 lbs

Description: Reddish brown skin that appears dry and cracked, large long nose, wide gleeful eyes and wears dark greenish brown clothing and armor.

During the journey to the Haunted Highlands and before spending his 100 GP at the Roadhouse, Nordrog the Gnome is wearing the Scale Mail Armor and Leather Helm issued for the journey by Adaf Adshead, armed with a Quarterstaff and Light Mace.

Background: Nordrog the Gnome is a survivor. He is the lone survivor of a Gnome Clan originally located in the south region in the northeast area where the Verdant Valley meets the Mountain Range and Dark Forest.

Nordrog knows the names of these areas in his Gnome language where he grew up with his clan battling Goblins and Kobolds, before The Noble Wars broke out and caused his clan members to be caught in the bloodshed between the warring factions, plus the attacks of their Goblin and Kobold enemies.

Although young by Gnome standards, Nordrog was able to use his skills to hire himself as a Healer, Guide and Secret Mercenary to the highest bidders [playing each faction against each other that he encountered and taking them for all the Gold he was able to collect for his efforts!] as did his other clan members who were slain in the process.

Nordrog does not have much to show for his efforts as he spent his acquired God by helping the misfortunate, widows and orphans of any race that were displaced or ravaged by The Noble Wars.

He continued to hire himself as a Healer over the past 5 years all along the borders of the Mountain Range, the Verdant Valley and the Dark Forest while searching for any survivors of his clan. Goblins and Kobolds were regular adversaries in battles, but Nordrog soon found himself loathing the continual skirmishes between the remaining splinter factions of The Noble Wars during the past 5 years.

Journey: While pursuing a Goblin raiding party in the recesses of the Mountain Range and Verdant Valley borders, Nordrog joined a battle where the camp of Adaf Adshead was under attack by that same Goblin raiding party.

As a result, Nordrog was hired by Adaf Adshead to join the wagon train with his unique abilities to help protect the precious cargo bound for Dirty's Roadhouse and Udru Ironhammer with the promise of receiving 100 GP plus a Magic Weapon when they safely reached their destination.

Nordrog chose to blend into the scenery as much as possible while getting to know his fellow party members during the 12 week journey. He soon discovered that his fellow hired adventurers wer more than capable in battle as they defeated a seemingly endless array of Bandits, Orcs, Goblins and Kobolds that tried in vain to loot and plunder the wagons of Adaf Adshead.

Although the Gnome Cleric was content to play a supportive role during the journey, Nordrog was convinced that any opportunity for further adventuring with this group of hired protectors beyond Dirty's Roadhouse would be the wisest course of action for the Gnome Cleric to choose!

Ma'ia Il'luume the Rain Walker

Race: Elf

Class: Druid

Alignment: Neutral

Religion: Way of the Rain

Level: Three


Language Proficiency: Common, Elf, Druidic (bonus), Dwarf, Fey (bonus), Gnome, Goblin, Halfling, Orc, and Sylvan (bonus)

Racial Abilities Enhanced Senses (clear/detailed vision 2 mile distance, +2 bonus to checks involving listening)
Twilight Vision
Move Silently (can move silently at half speed in wilderness with no penalties, suffer -5 penalty at full speed)
Spell Resistance (+10 save bonus against charm/sleep spells and spell like abilities)
Spot Hidden Doors (Wisdom) (An elf merely passing within 5 ft of a secret, hidden, or concealed doorways is entitled to a wisdom check to spot the door, as if the elf were actively looking for it. +2 Bonus to wisdom checks when actively searching for suck doorways)
Weapon Training: +1 to hit with Longsword

Movement: 30

Strength: 12

Dexterity: 18 (PRIME)

Constitution: 13

Intelligence 16

Wisdom 18 (PRIME)

Charisma 16

Special Qualities / Abilities: Nature Lore, Resist Elements, Woodland Stride

Spells Level 0: Endure Elements, Know Direction, Light, Purify Food and Drink

Spells Level 1: Entangle, Goodberry, Obscuring Mist

Spells Level 2: Charm Person or Animal, Summon Swarm

Age: 256

Gender: Female

Eye Color: Incandescent and Color Shifting from deep indigo, to aquamarine, and emerald

Hair Color: Silver

Height: 5' 4"

Weight: 105 lbs

Description Ma'ia Il'luume is an elf of exotic beauty. Her coppery skin is smooth, and exquisite features are framed by a mane silvery curls. Large almond shaped eyes stare out mournfully into the world and shift in color from blues into greens. Soft leather armor and unbleached linen hug her lithe frame. Strands of earthen beads hang from her neck and bright pounded copper bracelets decorate her wrists. Ma'ia wears a lock of her daughter's hair bound to a cord hanging from her neck.

History Before the great river Xara empties into the sea it cuts through the massive rainforest Iuvia. For more than one thousand miles Xara runs through the rainforest, the ebb and flow of it's waters have sculpted the architecture of the forest for ages uncounted. The Iuvia stands at the southern most point of the southern territories and has kept alive the most ancient and primal of beings. Beneath the forest canopy an ancient elven civilization has thrived. Calling themselves the The People of the Rain, the xenophobic elves of the Iuvia have lived out their long lives in complete harmony with the rhythms of the sun, the moon, and the river. For millennia the Xara and the Iuvia have shaped The People of the Rain, every part of their beings was of their forest home.

Ma'ia Il'luume was born to The People of the Rain, and like her mother before her was raised to walk the Way of the Rain. Like all of her people Ma'ia lived in harmony with the rhythms of the natural, but to walk the Way of the Rain is to go beyond harmony. The Rain Walkers gave themselves fully to the land, becoming one with it. The young elf grew up in communion with the life rhythms of the wild landscape. Ma'ia attuned herself to the land until its very rhythms became palpable to her touch.

The years passed and the elf child grew into an elf woman possessing a wild exotic beauty. After more than a century of communion Ma'ia had given herself fully to the Way of the Rain and was bestowed the title of Rain Walker. The Iuvia, the Xara, and the skies above became nothing more than an extension of herself.

And so Ma'ia lived as The People of the Rain had lived for countless ages, but while the elves may remain unchanged for millenia the rest of the world does not. It was not until the beginning of her third century that Ma'ia became truly aware of this truth.

While The People of the Rain communed with their rainforest home the outside world was turmoiled. The Noble Wars raged across the territories to the north. As the people of war torn lands starved many left their homes to follow the Xara. The refugees followed the great river to the borders of the Iuvia, a land still untouched by war.

For a time the bounty of the plains sustained them, but soon their numbers grew too great and they expanded in the Iuvia itself. As ancient trees were cut down to build houses and clear land for farming the native elves wailed in rage. A new war broke out along the border of trees and farms, a war that brought the notice of those in the west of the southern territiories. Seeing new lands to conquer the nobles sent armies to follow the river south.

Noble steel and arcane might clashed with wood, wind, and the wild power of the Iuvia. Land that had once been harmonious were left soaked with blood. The armies of the north pushed forward into the elven lands, but despite their great power they were no match for the ancient place magic of The People of the Rain and the Iuvia.

Within arboreal coverage Ma'ia sent the devastating fury of nature against the invaders. She became as ruthless as the forces she called in her defense of the sanctity of the Iuvia. Like the other Rain Walkers she was an unseen harbinger of death, driving back the invading humans. Yet passion would change all that, and on a day like any other it did.

As she walked alone through the trees Ma'ia came to a large human man. He stood tall with mahogany skin and bright war paints decorated his body. The wild elf hid and watched him for a time, fascinated. Instinctually she reached out with the magic of the land weaving a charm and simultaneously moving to him. Human and elf stared at one another as the charm took hold, and soon mahogany skin caressed copper skin. The throes of passion overtook them both and human and elf joined in the embrace of ecstasy. After a time the intoxication of passion left and Ma'ia leaped into the trees leaving the dark human alone on the forest floor.

Several moons passed and as the human invaders were turned back Ma'ia discovered she was with child. She carried a child with human blood, and it was not long before this was discovered by her people. The People of the Rain sent her away from her homeland for none of human blood could live among them. And so she left her ancestral home, left the Iuvia and left the Xara.

Ma'ia wandered the land, finally settling in a rural community of men and elves on the eastern border of the southern territories. She soon gave birth to a dark skinned girl, a half elven child she named Umei. For some years Ma'ia and her child lived in relative peace, but such things do not last in war torn lands.

In the aftermath of the noble wars skirmishes broke out from time to time, and such skirmishes found their way into the most rural of communities. It was a summer afternoon when two minor nobles clashed over rights to the border settlement, and their fighting spilled into the streets of the hamlet. A stray arrow took Umei in the chest, and Ma'ia wailed as the blood of her young daughter flowed onto her hands.

Journey After Umei's burial Ma'ia left the town vowing to leave behind these war torn lands. Unable and unwilling to return to her homeland she sought passage out of the southern territories into lands untamed and untouched. The elf found herself offered employment by Adaf Adshead to escort cargo wagons out of the verdant valley and through the mountains. With the promise of freedom from the warring humans Ma'ia gladly accepted.

Throughout the sojourn through the mountains Ma'ia wrapped herself in mournful silence, the wounds of her daughters passing still burned her soul. The elf broke her silence only when necessary, preferring the silence of her thoughts and listening to the songs in the mountain winds. With her compatriots she faced down brigands, looters, and the vile humanoid vermin that hid in the mountain passage. Although the great power of the ancient place magic had left her with the Iuvia she found that the powers of nature still bent to her will. Ma'ia sent ravenous swarms of insects onto their attackers, and when magic and charms failed the sharp edge of her pounded copper blade or a flurry of arrows would suffice.

After twelve weeks of travel and battle the elf and her companions found themselves at their destination. Although Umei's passing still pained her deeply, the wild rhythms of a new land warmed her soul. If any of the other travelers went on into this untamed world she would join them, of that Ma'ia was certain.

History of the Marches The Karboskian Marches are named for the royal family of Karbosk, a hereditary duchy whose borderlands have consistently been plagued by wild beasts, humanoid armies and other foes both seen and unseen.

Ancient History The Duchy of Karbosk was established 800 years ago when King Pieter II of Rodensia established the line, granting the hard won border territory to his most feared general, Leonid Karbosk.

A great civil war amongst the nobles of Rodensia brought about its eventual decline. Now the former empire occupies less than 1/10th of its original holdings.

Despite the collapse of King Pieter's empire, the Duchy of Karbosk has maintained virtual autonomy from its old masters due to clever diplomacy and the presence of Lake Veyona, separating it both geographically and militarily from its former masters.

What is known to few save the most educated sages is that what now stands as sprawling wilderness, the Duchy of Karbosk was once home to an even greater civilization than the one King Pieter had established.

It was upon these wild highlands, broad lakeshores and clear rivers that the ancient empire of Umeshti once stood. Here, sorcerer kings and priests communed with the very gods at the beginnings of mortal civilization.

All was lost one fateful evening 10,000 years ago when a meteor was cast down from the heavens by angry gods, leaving nothing but a great crater and cursed sinkhole reaching deep into the crust of the earth below.

Recent History In recent times, the outer marches of Karbosk have become increasingly dangerous. Humanoid armies have always threatened the Karboskian frontiers, but now something more sinister has risen and war has erupted in every corner of the Duchy.

A powerful and some say eldritch orc king has risen to power and driven every humanoid within reach of his bloody axe before him in a frenzy of slaughter and mayhem.

So rapid was the invasion of this foul chieftain, known to those who have survived his plundering as Yorgach the Ravager, that even the capitol city of Dro Mandras has suffered a heavy blow.

East Dro Mandras lies in ruins, with only small walled sections of the town center left standing, but under constant siege.

Luckily, the humanoid army's greed, infighting and ignorance of river navigation have staved off the tide of the invasion for now.

Unfortunately for the frontier citizens of Karbosk, Duke Mandras Karbosk V and his armies are fully occupied in the recapture of East Dro Mandras, leaving much of the frontier unguarded.

Opportunists not yet conscripted into the ranks of Yorgach's horde now plunder the farmlands on all sides, leaving few places untouched, save Dirty's Roadhouse and The Magi Tower of Nesturon spared.

It is into this background of violence, warfare and mystery that the newly arrived adventurers now find themselves. Their actions may have a direct impact on the world around them.

They may rise to the occasion and carve a name for themselves as heroes, villains, opportunists or saviors. The choice is theirs.

The Roadhouse on the Marches Dirty's Roadhouse sits atop a small bluff some 10 leagues (or 35 miles) from Dro Mandras. The square stone structure is surrounded by a wooden palisade which overlooks one of the major land roads between Dro Mandras and the other settlements of the region.

Dirty's serves as a hub for merchants, soldiers, mercenaries and adventurers seeking wealth and fame within the area. The roadhouse has a somewhat rough edged reputation, especially in the more civilized areas of the region.

In Dro Mandras, the roadhouse is frequently spoken of in scornful terms by members of the city's law enforcement as a place where bounty hunters, bandits and other undesirables go to hide from the long arm of the law.

Of course such talk is often squelched in the presence of Dirty's proprietor, a grizzled Bowbe worshipping barbarian known only as "Bull".

Despite the foul reputation most "civilized" folk have for his establishment, he is well respected by military authorities, who have been known to call upon his sword and glaive in times of trouble.

This is owed to the fact that his prowess and fearless thirst for battle bolsters the morale of their constricted armies.

Bull and his squad of hard nosed bouncers are not above allowing a scuffle to last as long as it needs to. They do, however, step in to see that no one actually dies; though this has been known to happen on occasion.

The Palisades which surrounds the roadhouse is ten feet high and made from sharpened timbers. A three foot wide walkway surrounds the inner wall of the palisade, offering Bull's sentries an easy view of the travelers' road and the surrounding area.

Trees from the surrounding woodland have been removed to a distance of 100 feet on all sides of the roadhouse outside the palisade to ensure that the view is unobstructed. The palisade is typically patrolled by sentries/bouncers in the employ of the roadhouse's owners.

A single gate opens onto the roadhouse grounds which encompass the roadhouse's outbuildings, including its stables, blacksmiths and beer garden.

As the wagon train owned by Adaf Adshead approaches ever nearer to the palisade through the heavy spring rain, our band of adventurers begin to see the grim visages of two Human Barbarian sentries clad in chain shirt and armed with a large wooden shield, dagger, battle axe and longbow.

Adaf Adshead hails the sentries from afar, identifying himself and hastily explaining that the wagons are bearing the precious cargo that his friend Udru Ironhammer has been expecting.

Udru Ironhammer runs the smithy for Bull and his silent partners. The red bearded dwarf is skilled in mending broken armor and can manufacture any metal weapons, armor or metal implement such as horseshoes or cooking implements at a 15 per cent markup from the standard rate due to the often scarce supply of good quality iron ore.

Udru is hailed by the sentries and soon the adventurers can see the Barbarian Dwarf beyond the gate, wearing a breastplate and carrying a large steel shield and warhammer.

The dwarf smithy bellows an uncharacteristic jovial greeting to his friend Adaf Adshead. Udru is typically friendly and engaging as a businessman, but keeps to himself, having few true friends in the roadhouse other than Bull.

The nature of Udru's relationship with Bull is a mystery to most, but it is expected that Bull once saved the dwarf's life, or that they had done time together in some far off prison.

Others claim that Udru was wanted in foreign lands for some unknown crime and only Bull would give him a chance to redeem himself.

Whatever the case, his friend Adaf Adshead has refused to discuss his knowledge of Udru with his hired band of adventurers, saying only that Udru needs the contents of the wagons to replenish much needed materials at the smithy.

The reaction from Udru as the wagons begin entering the gate with their precious cargo makes it plain to the adventurers that their promised payment was well worth their cost of guarding the wagons!

Each wagon has a driver plus one other fighter in the employ of Adaf Adshead riding shotgun. These fighters are armed with longbows, longswords and daggers and each driver is well able to repel any unwanted vermin with a longbow or longsword in case of an ambush against the wagon train.

The hired adventurers dismount from their horses as they approach the gate, having surveyed the surrounding terrain and deciding that there is no threat to the wagons at their long journey's end.

Their mounts follow the next wagon through the gate, grateful for being relieved from the burden of their riders and having caught the scent of fresh feed wafting on the wind from inside the roadhouse, somewhere in the nearby stable.

Ironically, the heavy spring rain turns to a fine misty drizzle as the late afternoon sun breaks through the crevices of the overcast skies, shining its approval upon the two reunited friends!

The Heavy Wooden Gate lies open during daylight hours when there is no trouble in the area from marauding bands of humanoids or bandits. Through the rapidly diminishing misty drizzle, each adventurer is somewhat surprised to behold the top of the open gate as they stand outside, allowing their horses and the remaining wagons to precede them into Dirty's Roadhouse.

Skulls and sometimes the fresh heads of trouble-makers, goblins, ogres and trolls are affixed high atop the gate. Today is No Exception!

A sign posted below the severed heads indicates the profitable bounty offered by the roadhouse management for clearing the domain of undesirables.

This grotesque display serves multiple purposes as Bull sees it.

First off it sends fear into the hearts of foes who would seek to cause trouble in his establishment.

Secondly, it keeps the majority of uppity paladins and noble knights off his land as well, which suits him just fine. They don't drink or fondle barmaids anyhow!

Roadhouse Bounties
Kobald Head: 2sp
Fresh Goblin Head: 5sp
Fresh Orc Head: 10sp
Gnoll Head: 15sp
Ogre Head: 2gp
Troll Head (scorched only): 5gp and a free drink
For bigger beasts or suspected bandits inquire within
The adventurers stare at the bounty sign and then take another closer look at the heads upon the gate as the third wagon enters the roadhouse compound, closely followed by the final two as the misty drizzle ceases.

As the dim rays of sunlight begin to fade away as twilight begins to fall upon Dirty's Roadhouse, the contemplative reverie of the adventurers is broken by a sudden alarm from the sentries above them:

"ORCS"
Emerging seemingly out of thin air in the cleared area a mere 50 feet away from the open gate as the final wagon begins entering the roadhouse; a blood crazed band of 24 olive green orcs [plus a mottled red Shaman leading the raiding party from the center of the group] advance menacingly, their beady eyes fixed with murderous intent upon the adventurers outside the gate, their yellow jagged teeth bared in crazed defiance, unlike any the adventurers had encountered during their 12 week journey to Dirty's Roadhouse!

The orcs occupy an area 25 feet across and 25 feet deep, between 50 and 70 feet from the center of the roadhouse gate. Each of the olive green orcs are brandising a battleaxe, wooden shield and light crossbow. The red splotched Shaman is armed with a quarterstaff, club and dagger.

The first 10 orcs are charging the adventurers outside the gate with blood curdling snarls of defiance, intending to attack with their battleaxes; while the other 14 olive green orcs advance 15 feet straight ahead before firing their light crossbows!

Meanwhile, the red splotched Shaman stands his ground behind a solid wall of his blood crazed minions and conjurs a spell from his stationary position 60 feet from the roadhouse gate.

Players are now encouraged to post their roleplay up to the point of where the Shaman and his orc warband make their unexpected appearance and launch their brazen attacks, but all Battle Reactions are to be addressed in the Q&A before the Castle Keeper posts the results!

Name: Amiri Mooncat
Race: Elf
Class: Fighter
Level: 3
Exp:
Next Level:
Entitlement:
Alignment: NG
Religion:
Age: 120
Gender: Female
Eyes: Sea Green
Hair: Electrum, (Silvery Gold)
Height” 5’9”
Weight: 125
Movement 30’

LANGUAGE PROFICIENCY: Elven

ATTRIBUTES
Str 18 +2 Primary Attribute
Dex 17 +3
Con 15 +2
Int 15 +2
Wis 15 +2
Cha 13 +1
COMBAT

AC____[10 + Armor + Shield + Attribute Mod + Misc.

To Hit [d20 + Attribute Mod + Level Bonus + Miscellaneous >_ [greater than or equal to AC]

HP =

Weapon/Type/Name Bonus to Hit Bonus to Damage Weapon Damage Notes / Special

Weapons In Hand: Long sword

Wounds Suffered
Armor
Shield
Helm

[X = Primary Attribute] Attribute Checks = d20 + Mod + Level >_[greater than or equal to] CC

Attributes Mod Saving Throws
6_ Strength/Paralysis & Constriction
5_ Dexterity/Breath Weapons & Traps
5_ Constitution/Disease, Energy Drain & Poison
5_ Intelligence/Arcane Magic & Illusion
5_ Wisdom/Confusion, Divine Magic, Gaze Attack, Petrification, Polymorph
4_ Charisma Death Attack, Charm & Fear

Combat Move [Base - EV Penalty + Miscellaneous]

 
GEAR:

Primary Gear
Armor: Chain mail Shirt
Weapons: Longsword, Composite longbow, Daggers, Horsesman’s Mace, Throwing ax
Scrolls:
Spell Components:
Holy Items,
Totems
Class Equipment]
Item Location EV On person

SECONDARY GEAR
CLOTHING:
Worn:Traveling clothes, belt, boots, gloves, 2
pouches. Hooded cloak with drawstring on hood
Carried in back pack: One set of town clothes and on
silken gown.

RATIONS:
Worn: two days ration in pouch
Carried In saddle bags: 10 days mixed rations, dried
fruit, nuts, meat and sausages, salt pepper, dried
spices, elven waybread.

DRINK:
Carried on horse: two water skins

CAMPING GEAR:
Carried: wrapped in tarp and on back of horse:
Bedrooll, winter blanketr, small pot and fry pan,
tripod, 10x10 tarp, ten stakes, and 50 feet of rope

PACKS:
Carried on horse Bacl pack & two large sacks

TOOLS & OTHER GENERAL EQUIPMENT:
Flint and steel, tinder box, tinder and small dried
twigs, 6 candles, hooded lantern 3 pints of oil, 4
pieces of Chalk, 5 Sewing needeles and thread, tacl
repair kit-awl, heavy thread, leather patches. Pliers
for repairing mail.
Item Location EV

TRANSPORT AND TACK:
Warhorse,
Military Saddle, Bridle, saddlebags
Item Location EV

MAGICAL ARMAMENTS, DEVICES & OTHER ITEMS

PERSONAL APPEARANCE

DESCRIPTIONS:
Amiri is tall, slender but with a wiry strength She is graceful of figure and movement so typical of members of her race. Her bearing is usually natural but she can appear arrogant or haughty at times. Large Almond shaped slanted eyes of Hazel that at times appear, blue gray, stormy grey, or greenish depending on what she wears and her surroundings…and mood, with slender winged brows, high cheeks, creamy complexion, with faint apricot blush on cheeks and lips. Her hair is a ultra pale gold, almost silver but not quite.

PERSONALITY:
Usually easy-going, likes what she does, gets along with most races tries to judge individuals as individuals though some especially humans push her the wrong way. She is active and energetic. She tends to be reserve when meeting new people but warms up later if they prove themselves worth.

CLOTHING STYLE:
As a Fighter she dresses appropriately in colors of the forest and field. Usually in shades of green Her clothes are of excellent quality material and well made, usually consisting of soft pants that cling to her legs but with room for active movement. She wears a shirt and jerkin of leather or a tunic to cover them all. She wears high leather soft boots with hard leather soles for durability. They are dyed dark green the same color of her cloak, belt and other pouches. When given a chance to dress up she presents herself very well in a elven silk gown that clings to her line a fall of water hugging her form then floating away at the slightest breeze.


HISTORY & BACKGROUND
Amiri is the second child born to her parents who were both skilled crafters. Her father made fine weapons and her mother was a jeweler. Her brother Leander was much older than she, and she idolized him. He entered the military and move up well. She always want to be like him and she pestered him to teach her how to fight. She tried a stint in the military but ther military life not to her liking, especially if she though she knew better what to do. So she mustered out and took to freelance fighting, doing what she wanted when she wanted. Having done fairly well for herself she set out beyond the elven kingdom to see what the outside world was really like.

People of Interest [Names of ]
Companions
Foes
Other NPCs
Treasure
Gp
Sp
Pp
Cp
Jewels & Gems

Magic Items

Expendable Items

Food Quantity Remaining

Bolts Quantity Remaining

Arrows Quantity Remaining

Horse / Animal Companion / Familiar

Type
Name
HD
Move
Attacks
Damage
Saves
AC
HP

Special Qualities / Abilities

Nordrog had learned how to ride a horse more out of necessity than on purpose.

The Noble Wars had forced the gnome to adapt in more ways than one.

His preference was to walk and commune with his deity in the natural surroundings of whatever habitat that Nordrog currently found himself residing.

However, the necessity for survival soon dictated that the gnome not only learn how to balance himself on a horse, but to be able to take command and actually direct a steed over the rough terrain amidst a hail of arrows or worse!

Nordrog judged himself to be adequate at best, which was soon tested time and again as he rode with the wagons as one of the protectors hired by Adaf Adshead.

The cleric kept to himself most of the time, unless he was spoken to by one of the other adventurers in the party, or when Adaf Adshead made it a point to make the gnome more comfortable by engaging him in conversation from time to time as the journey progressed.

Being in the company of so many humans made the gnome uneasy and suspicious, a natural side effect from the rigors of The Noble Wars, but he enjoyed the company of the Elves and especially the company of the Half Elf Ranger, who seemed to favor his human heritage.

This Ranger made the perfect buffer between the humans in the employ of Adaf Adshead and the Elves who made Nordrog more comfortable as the days passed into weeks.

He especially enjoyed the Bard who had the talent and inspiration of song and oration that seemed to make the long trip shorter at times.

Nordrog appreciated the company of the Elf Fighter, for he knew the value of a good fighter having your back in times of perilous heroics!

Then there was the Druid with her intriguing capabilities in times of battle, in spite of her apparent deep rooted sorrow that Nordrog sensed from time to time.

He did not wish to pry, as he knew from experience that most everyone had suffered more than one deep rooted loss during The Noble Wars.

Nordrog was just glad that whatever nightmare the Druid had emerged from in the aftermath of The Noble Wars had brought her into his life as a friend and not a foe!

He would just wait patiently for the Druid to unburden her sorrow in her own time and in her own way, especially as an ally against whatever foes the party may face in the future!

Nordrog knew that he could have done far worse for travel companions and comrades in arms.

At least he was able to trust the Ranger and these Elves with his life. He could do no less than to make sure he did his part to ensure his companions survived whatever the adventurers would face in the future.

So Nordrog the Gnome kept his deeper thoughts to himself, expressing only what was necessary to his companions to make the journey less irritable or antagonistic than it otherwise could have been.

His private musings were upon what sort of magic weapons that the group would be receiving from Adaf Adshead as payment for their protecting the wagons.

Try as he may, the answer was hidden from the gnome, no matter how hard he tried from time to time to get Adaf Adshead to divulge those particular secrets.

Adaf Adshead did indeed make it a point to engage the gnome in conversation, but his employer refused to drop any hints as to what type of rewards were in store for the loyal service of this band of adventurers.

As the roadhouse came within sight off in the distance, Nordrog was no closer to discovering which magic weapons would be made available to the party, than when he had first agreed to help protect the wagons those many long weeks ago.

Which suited Nordrog the Gnome just fine.

Strength: 18 +3 (Prime attribute)
Dexterity: 17 +2 Half Elf Secondary Attribute
Constitution: 16 +2
Intelligence: 16 +2
Wisdom: 16 +2
Charisma: 10

Neutral Good
Languages: Common, Elf, Gnome, Halfling, Orc
½ Elf Ranger Modifier: +2 to mover silently and find traps.

Armor: Scalemail
Weapons: Longsword, shortsword, Composite Longbow (20 Arrows), 2 daggers
Typically fights with bothswords at once

Horse – an excellent riding horse (name = Tieglin) And tack.

Clothing and such: Typically Oliander wears working clothing. He has high leather boots that are hard on the bottom, but soft as they go up. He typically dresses in browns and greens as is fitting for a ranger, although browns dominate his current wardrobe. He has a brown cloak with a hood that he wears when the weather is inclement. He sometimes wears leather riding gloves – which are light and tight enough to be useful when wielding a weapon. One dagger is tucked in his right boot and the other is inside his shirt on the left side where his right hand can easily grab it in need.

Other goods: 2 weeks worth of food – dry goods meant to last a long time. Two water skins. 6 torches, 6 candles, flint and steel, small plain scroll with a small vial of ink and quill. Basic bedroll and cook kit. 50’ rope.


Character History:
Oliander Silvereagle Turambar comes from a well established ranching family in the Southern Lands. They are not actually noble themselves, although they own as much land as many noble families. They are an old family that primarily raises horses – riding, war and work – with a few cattle as well. Traditionally the Turambar family has served the Orsini family, a very honorable family that looked out for those under their protection.
For generations this situation worked to the advantage of both the Orsini and Turambar families, as well as others in the area. Within the Turambar family there was always a head of the household who led the family and held the lands. Additional family members frequently also worked on the family lands or went into various careers. Many of them were members of a group of rangers that protected the south lands from the various dangers from the Mountains to the North. Occasionally some members of the family have gone into wizardry. One, Beleg Turambar, became a notable Druid. (And for that reason was always referred to as the “green sheep” of the family.)
Oliander’s mother, Olivinia Turambar, was a ranger. On one of her missions she met and developed a relationship with an elf from lands to the West. The exact nature of the story is unclear, but what is known is that this elf died on the venture while saving Olivnia’s life and she returned alone, but pregnant with a half-elf child. That child was Oliander. Oliander was thus raised entirely by his human family and although his elven heritage is evident if he is closely examined, he is clearly of a human lineage.
Oliander has no complaints about his childhood on the ranch as he was consistently treated very well, even after his mother failed to return from an expedition into the Mountains when he was still quite young. Yet, despite this, he never quite fit in with the family even as he was proud of his human heritage and family. He had many cousins on the ranch who were friendly, but developed at a faster pace than did Oliander. Simply put, he never quite fit in with any specific generation. In truth, his best friends came from a village of gnomes that made their homes on Orsini lands. Oliander spent many days hanging out with these gnomes and became a familiar site in their village. (Note: After the fall of the Orsini in the Civil Wars this group will move further North into more wild lands looking for a place to call home. They were not destroyed but moved voluntarily.)
Unfortunately the Orsini were drawn into the civil wars that ravaged the South Lands. They did not wish to participate, but as is so frequently true in such conflicts remaining neutral was considered by all sides as helping the enemy. Unwillingly, they were drawn into the ongoing conflict. Despite their best efforts (and the aid of the Rangers from the North who frequently supported the Orsini) the Orsini family was overthrown during year seven of these wars. The Turambar family was hit hard by this loss as they had actively supported the Orsini. Several members of the family died during the wars. The family still holds their traditional lands but now they are subject to a new overlord – the Tfallon family. As warring noble families go the Tfallon are not bad. They are no more evil than any other family, but are as caught up in the Civil Wars and the drive for power associated with them as any other family. The Turambar family has promised support to the Tfallon as the only way of keeping their lands. Financial support and horses, but not military aid, although there is much concern that such will be demanded of them eventually. For now the Tfallon family accepts this situation because the family is strong and is able to provide a vital resource during the wars – horses.
Oliander followed his mother into the Rangers. He fought for the Orsini with other members of his family. With their fall, however, he saw no need to continue his participation in these wars. He wished to protect the civilized lands, but didn’t see contributing to a Civil War as aiding in that endeavor. He no longer saw a faction worthy of his support. His goal is still to protect those who can’t defend themselves and the “good” in civilization, but he is a bit unsure just where his calling should take him. Certainly not all people who live in a civilization are civilized. For this reason he has left the group of rangers he first trained with and set out in search of his mission.
The possibility to act as a guard for the caravan of iron into the hills seemed to him to be a very good opportunity to leave the South Lands behind him and go where help would be needed.

Oliander was quite pleased with the arrangement with Adaf Adshead. He needed to get out of the South lands. There simply didn’t seem to be any real purpose in remaining, although he was loyal to his family. Remaining would only have increased the chances of his getting dragged into the ongoing wars. He saw no profit in that. No profit for himself and the general population anyway, whatever advantages various noble families might perceive.

So he left, and Adshead had provided the perfect opportunity. He even liked the ultimate destination. Although he had grown up in the lowlands of the South, he had greatly enjoyed the time he had spend in highlands. Indeed, as a ranger he would be inclined to say that he was called to highland forests. They were simply beautiful. Frequently stark, hard and unforgiving, but possessed of a wild beauty he appreciated.

One part of the deal did strike him as odd. Or perhaps odd was not the right word, maybe ironic? He was essentially fleeing a war – right into the arms of another conflict. But he went into this one willingly. Cautiously willingly, while admitting that there was much he did not yet know about this conflict. But when one side was lead by figures such as Yorgach the Ravager, an Orc-King of nasty reputation, it wasn’t hard to figure out where his loyalties should be. He would be careful with whatever human leaders sought to emerge from the war in power, but stopping Yorgach appeared to be a cause worthy of pursuit. And he needed something to pursue.

And so Oliander found himself in the company of the wagons heading into the hills. The human guards for the wagons appeared to be solid figures, strong and capable. He had encountered many such men in the wars to the South. They were good to have on your side, if a bit mercenary. Such a thought made Oliander chuckle quietly to himself as he was himself a mere mercenary in this business.

The special group of hired guards, his fellow mercenaries, was a very interesting group. Had they gathered together every solitary and wandering elf in the area? He left his human family behind for the present only to spend time with the other half of his lineage, it appeared. The idea intrigued him more than a little as he had spent very little time in the company of elves. He had never known his father, or anything about his father for that matter, and elves were rare in the area around the Turambar farms. He had always been proud of his elven heritage, but had really never known much of what that meant. The company of elves was an interesting, if perhaps a bit intimidating, opportunity.

Over the fires in the evening and on the ride during daylight hours Oliander conversed with his fellows as he attempted to get a feel for the elves. Regardless of the topic it was enlightening as Oliander found every answer full of depth. He felt he was coming to know himself as well as them.

Nordrog the Gnome was a special tonic for him. It pleased him to note that the gnome appeared to enjoy his company – using him as a way to get to know the elves, an idea that amused Oliander a great deal, as he suspected the gnome knew far more about elves than he did. Still, he was pleased to find a friend in the gnome. His ability to speak gnome came in handy as the two chatted. Indeed, Oliander had spent many days of his youth with the local gnomes and probably felt more comfortable in their company than he did in the company of either men or elves. In a group of strangers, Nordrog seemed to represent the “known.”

It was a good group with which to travel. The group earned their paychecks having to battle off occasional bandits and orcish raids. While none of the attacks proved deadly, to the group of wagons anyway, they did provide an opportunity for the small group of demi-humans to get to know each other and their abilities. By the time orcs appeared out of thin air near Dirty’s Roadhouse, Oliander had grown quite confident in the abilities of those with whom he travelled. As he drew his swords to defend himself and those around him, he knew from experience that his companions were doing likewise. He was confident in his new friends and confident that these orcs had made a big mistake.

Nordrog was enthralled by the number of heads perched on the pikes of the palisades at Dirty's Roadhouse.

These defeated foes seemed to be even more gruesome and loathsome than those that had attacked the wagons over the past 12 weeks.

Nordrog and his companions were standing side by side outside the open gate [which is 30 feet wide by the way] about 10 feet from the opening as the last wagon began making its way inside.

The companions were facing the open gate while looking up at the defeated foes on the pikes of the palisades.

As Nordrog continued reflecting upon what it might be like to face such fearsome foes, his reverie was broken by the single word shouted in unison by the two sentries above and to his right:

"ORCS"
The Gnome Cleric instinctively whirled around as he breathed a hasty prayer to his deity, clutching the handle of his light mace as he instinctively drew his weapon.

His fleeting thoughts as his blood began pounding in his ears was of the hope that he and his companions could successfully survive this surprise attack without any casualties.

Afterall, he had become quite fond of his companions and the thought of any of them falling so soon in battle was not a comforting thought in the least.

He was also glad to have his new friend Oriander fighting at his side!

The Gnome Cleric would do his best to aid his companions and collect some coin for some fresh orc heads!

As the caravan neared their destination Ma'ia Il'luume fingered the lock of her daughter's hair that she wore around her neck. A lock of hair. That was all she had left of Umei. These human wars had taken everything from her, and it was for this that she left the bounty of the southern lands to travel the untamed wilds of the northern highlands. Adaf Adshead had given her the opportunity to leave behind the warring humans. She did so without hesitation, if they wanted to kill one another then let them, the world would surely be the better for it.

So she found herself guarding a caravan of cargo wagons from ambush and raid. With four others Ma'ia had turned back raiding parties of orcs and humans alike. Three elves, a half elf, and a gnome were all that stood against whatever had lain hidden in the mountain pass. All had proved capable, a fact she was grateful for. Adaf Adshead had chosen his guards well.

With the wounds of her daughter's death still fresh Ma'ia had kept to herself for much of their sojourn through the mountain pass. Even so she was grateful for the presence of the other two elves. They were different she and they. In contrast to her dark complexion both women had the pale coloring common to elves outside of the rain forest and they were certainly more comfortable than she among the humans of the caravan. Still, when she needed companionship she often found herself among them, it was a luxury to hear her native tongue.

Then there was the gnome, Nordrog and the half elf, Oliander. Over the course of the journey the pair had taken a liking of one another and were often seen together. The gnome seemed kindly enough, but he often glanced at her with a look of knowing pity that Ma'ia found unnerving. Oliander was strange to her, despite the elven blood that ran through his veins he was as human as any other. Her own daughter had been born of mixed blood as well, but Umei had been far more elven than human. He was truly ignorant of elven ways and had his heritage not been evident she would have thought she and the other two elves were the first he had ever laid eyes on. Oliander did express an interest in learning about the elven people, and from time to time she would indulge his curiosity.

Ma'ia spent many a day in contemplation of the landscape. This wild was alien to her, the arid cragged cliffs were so unlike the humid shadows of her jungle homeland. Yet she found herself drawn to them yearning to understand the complexities that hid in the sparse wilderness. A salvation had been sent to her, a new wild to explore lay ahead of her and she would loose herself in it as she had once done in the Iuvia. Ma'ia would go on and she thanked the path of the rain for leading her.

Dirty's Roadhouse could be seen in the distance and the human caravaners moved about with an excited gait edging their horse forward with renewed energy. Ma'ia along with the other caravan guards stayed to the rear allowing the wagons to enter the roadhouse gates first. None seemed to mind the severed orc heads staked out along, but the sight made her sick. Orcs were vile creatures but making trophies of their heads was an abominable practice. Just as the final wagon began to pull into the roadhouse Ma'ia looked back to see a band of frenzied orcs materialize in the distance. At their front was a blotchy shaman and as her began to chant the creatures sprang forward with battle lust glinting in their eyes. The druid drew her copper blade and whirled into battle as the first orcs reached them. All the while her focus remained on the shaman in the distance, that creature would soon know the wrath of the wild. She was growing quite wearing of fighting, but such was the way of things.

Loren sighed when they reached the roadhouse. At least she would not have to cook dinner tonight. The trip had been interesting and uneventful, something they all appreciated. Best of all Loren had maintained her disquise as a male.

Friendships had been struck by some of the hired guards, Nodrog the Gnome and Oliander the Half-Elf seemed to hit it off fairly well. Mai’ia the Wild Elf from the rain forests was a different matter, though she spent time with Almiri and herself, there was an sense of displacement about her, as if some part of her were elsewhere, and Loren sensed it was linked to some painful memory. Given the wars, it was not too hard to guess that she might have lost family and or friends and even her home, so many were here had been unsettled by the wars.

The last of the wagons rolled through the gates as Loren stood with her fellow guards when the cry “ORCS!” was sounded.

Emerging seemingly out of thin air in the cleared area a mere 50 feet away from the open gate as the final wagon begins entering the roadhouse; a blood crazed band of 24 olive green orcs [plus a mottled red Shaman leading the raiding party from the center of the group] advance menacingly, their beady eyes fixed with murderous intent upon the adventurers outside the gate, their yellow jagged teeth bared in crazed defiance, unlike any the adventurers had encountered during their 12 week journey to Dirty's Roadhouse!

The orcs occupy an area 25 feet across and 25 feet deep, between 50 and 70 feet from the center of the roadhouse gate. Each of the olive green orcs are brandising a battleaxe, wooden shield and light crossbow. The red splotched Shaman is armed with a quarterstaff, club and dagger.

The first 10 orcs are charging the adventurers outside the gate with blood curdling snarls of defiance, intending to attack with their battleaxes; while the other 14 olive green orcs advance 15 feet straight ahead before firing their light crossbows!

Meanwhile, the red splotched Shaman stands his ground behind a solid wall of his blood crazed minions and conjurs a spell from his stationary position 60 feet from the roadhouse gate.
Loren turned her horse toward the opening of the gates and let loose the reigns and slapped it on the rear, sending the mare running inside. Loren then moved to the corner of the gate for some cover, unslung her bow and drew arrows from her quiver.

Dirty's Roadhouse
Twilight
Early Spring
Year One NB [New Beginning]

"ORCS"
The two sharp-eyed barbarian sentries shouted in unison as they alertly recognized an Orc War Party materializing from the seclusion of an Invisibility Sphere spell cast by the red splotched Orc Shaman.

Their instant bellow of alarm foiled the orcs' element of surprise as the five adventurers below them readied themselves for the unexpected onslaught in the twilight.

Adaf Adshead's five fighters heard the cry of the sentries and they sprang from their seats on the wagons to help defend the open gate: where only the Bard, Druid, Cleric, Ranger and Fighter stood between the opening to the roadhouse and its grizly enemies.

Others in the roadhouse heard the cry of alarm and headed for their pre-assigned positions to defend the roadhouse should the orcs somehow gain entrance.

Udru Ironhammer spat in disgust as he gripped his warhammer with a string of oaths bellowing forth from his belly.

The dwarf smithy took his position as a first line of defense inside the open gate, ready to clash with any orc that was foolish enough to try to invade the confines of Dirty's Roadhouse.

Meanwhile, Adaf Adshead calmly slipped a peculiar ring on his right hand, as he eased himself into a position at the gate entrance, seemingly for a better view of how his hired mercenaries would fare against these vermin.

"Skulgnar the Savage!"
The sentries spat the infamous shaman's name in disgust as they rapidly loosed two arrows each at the orcs charging the five adventurers below.

A particularly menacing orc with extreme blood lust in its eyes charged straight for Oliander, fully intending to split the ranger's skull with its battle axe.

As the ranger braced himself to engage his attacker, the orc suddenly staggered forward, an arrow imbedded in its skull as its battle axe fell to the ground.

The orc directly behind him took an arrow in its left arm, but snarled in defiance as it stood its ground, looking for an opportunity to attack.

Amiri the Fighter was able to dodge the blow of the orc that tried to attack her, as her foe seemed to disregard the arrow that had cut into its right arm.

The orc directly behind the one in front of Amiri grunted as the fourth arrow pierced a hole in its shoulder, but it stood its ground as well, also looking for an opportunity to attack.

Fortunately for the rest of the party, each of the orcs narrowly missed their prey, as the deadly swish of their battle axes passed within mere inches of each of them.

However, there were two orcs ready to attack each of them, so depending upon their reactions, the orcs were already formulating another plan of attack.

Skulgnar the Savage had instinctively cast a spell to protect himself from any attack from the roadhouse defenders; gaining himself the advantage of watching his troops and barking any orders he felt necessary.

The fourteen remaining orcs had intended to fire their light cross bow bolts in the direction of the adventurers outside the gate, but reacted to the shouted alarm of the two sentries, firing their bolts in unison against the two barbarians on the wall of the roadhouse palisade.

Nine of the bolts flew dangerously close to the sentries, but passed harmlessly by and fortunately did not strike anyone inside the compound.

Sentry 2 was seemingly gifted by the luck of some unseen god as two of the bolts imbedded themselves deep into the timbers of the palisade, but failed to pierce his skin.

A third bolt nipped his left leg, drawing a bit of blood, but the sentry held his ground in spite of the shock seeping into his consciousness, preparing to fire another volley to repel the invaders.

Sentry 1 was not so fortunate as his comrade. The barbarian was nipped in the right leg by one bolt, but the second found its mark and somehow imbedded itself deep inside the left shoulder of its target.

The sentry staggered under the violent assault and was dangerously close to passing out from the shock of the bolt and the spurting of his blood, but he would be able to fire at least another volley in defense of Dirty's Roadhouse.


CASTLE KEEPER'S NOTE: Although I already basically have the reactions of each party member and the other defenders ready to implement into a post, I will give everyone a day or two [maybe the weekend] to absorb what has transpired before posting your results for your T1 R1 counter attack.

This is mainly because you just received your information regarding your Deity and you may want to write another role play to include that info along with how you are reacting to this first attack.

None of us realize what has happened to the sentries on the wall. We are all focused on the orcs that are attacking us.

For Your Information: Nomad's Ranger will finish off the orc with the arrow imbedded in its skull before attacking any other orc.

I do know that Loren the Bard [Dragon Mistress] is having her character retreat about 10 feet and is drawing her bow. Just let me know if that is still your plan?

As of this writing Brianna had not posted a role play leading up to the attack by the orcs. Failure to do so means missing out on an easy one-time 1000 Experience Points for your role play up to this point.

Each of you are gaining Experience Points for your role play and it is important to get these Experience Points that will help push your character to Level 5.

I May Not Be So Generous with Experience Points Later!

Initiative for Round 2 of Turn 1 has been gained by the Roadhouse Defenders, so keep that in mind for posting at the Q&A after I post the results of your reactions [counter attack] in R1.

I may not be able to post again until after the weekend, but if I can get it done sooner I will do so, just to help get this adventure rolling!

Dirty's Roadhouse
Twilight
Early Spring
Year One NB
It has been said that when a person is facing death that his or her life flashes instantly before their minds.

Nordrog the Gnome seemed to be no different as the orcs hastened to rob him and his companions of their lives.

As a Cleric of Ornen Steeltoe who had been caught up in The Noble Wars and the resulting aftermath, it could be quite frankly said that Nordrog had at times been quite remiss from his clerical duties.

Nordrog never had a problem with cleaning his plate, but it had been months since the Gnome had drunken himself into unconsciousness.

This form of worship to Ornen Steeltoe was required to be done at least once a year, but Nordrog preferred to keep a clear head in the face of warring factions.

He had intended to find the time to find favor with Ornen Steeltoe by making an excellent pair of boots with the required steel toes to honor his deity, but again, the years of war and the threats of war had cause Nordrog to procrastinate.

Now it seemed that the gnome cleric may not even have the opportunity to make amends with Ornen Steeltoe.

But as it had always been in past battles, Nordrog the Gnome seemed to have an understanding with Ornen Steeltoe, at least that was what Nordrog thought in his own mind.

Had he not always escaped certain death at the hands of untold enemies?

Surely his deity knew the depths of his gnomish heart and the intentions that Nordrog had to properly serve and worship his deity when a suitable time and place became available.

That was one of the reasons that had motivated Nordrog to hire on with Adaf Adshead in the first place.

Besides, his clan of gnomes had all been wiped off the face of the earth. They were either dead or had been scattered to the four winds by the ramifications of The Noble Wars.

Nordrog still prayed and communed with his deity, but not to the extent of having the foresight to pray for Ornen Steeltoe to bless Nordrog with the artifact that could certainly help the cleric now in the face of this orc invasion.

Perhaps he could pray for Ornen's Steam Cleaner at another appropriate time; that is, if Nordrog was able to survive the attack of these orcs!

At least Nordrog the Gnome still carried the Dagger that Ornen Steeltoe had blessed oh so many years ago prior to The Noble Wars.

At times Nordrog almost forgot that he was carrying the blessed weapon.

Just as Nordrog seemed at times to be oblivious about the Tankard Holy Symbol that he kept safely hidden from prying eyes.

Nordrog considered that may have been the reason he had neglected getting drunk more often than he had these past years.

For some odd reason Nordrog had left his staff in one of the wagons, probably because he had been riding a horse instead of walking.

It was quite comical how Nordrog had to climb up in a wagon to be able to mount a horse, but the Gnome Cleric had somehow mastered the art of riding a horse in a better than average sort of way.

At least he had his light mace to defend himself and Nordrog was determined to strike in the name of Ornen Steeltoe until the last orc was dead or running for parts unknown!

"By the name of Ornen Steeltoe!" bellowed Nordrog as he readied himself to survive these unexpected attackers.

"I Promise to Drink Myself Under the Table ... at the First Opportunity!"

"So Give Me the Strength ... and Wits ... to Survive ... and I Will Do So!"

"Right Here ... at Dirty's Roadhouse!"

"And When I Can Find the Time ... Then I Will Make ... a Fine Pair of Steel Toe Boots Too!"

Oliander braced for the onrushing orcs with blades drawn.
“Thwack!” and the orc about to swing its ax at him stumbled to the ground with an arrow embedded in his head. “Thwack!” and the next one staggered a bit with an arrow protruding from its arm. Well, Oliander would soon make sure it had worse wounds to worry about.

He’d have to remember to thank those sentries when he got the chance. He liked having archers at his back. They had been known to save more than one warriors life when there were just too many enemies to block them all. It did creep him out a bit thought to have them shooting towards him. But the sentries were shooting from above – a good vantage point to avoid accidents. As the two orcs staggered with their wounds Oliander noticed a flurry of crossbow bolts flying upwards towards the sentries. He didn’t have time to look and see if any had found their mark, he could only hope the palisade had provided enough cover to protect them. A second round of arrows would be helpful.

All these thoughts of archers sped through his mind as his blades flashed in attack. He would finish off the two wounded and then deal with whatever came next.

“ . . . a fine pair of steel toe boots too!”

What?! Was the gnome drunk?! He’d heard something about drinking in there. Did he really just yell out something about shoes??!! What was he going to do, chuck them at the orcs?! He liked the gnome, but as he planted his blade in the body of an orc he couldn’t help thinking that maybe this one was a bit strange, even if he was pretty good with that mace.

With elven grace and agility Ma'ia bent aside avoiding the first orcs blow. Still she could feel the rush of air as the axe hissed past her. With eyes narrowed the druid lifted a hand to point in the direction of the onrushing orcs.

Time seemed to slow itself as she opened herself to the power of the land letting its primal rhythms flow through her. She began to chant softly in the ancient language of plant and tree. Her chanting called to the plants before her, both dormant and alive, beckoning them to dance and ensnare the rushing orcs in their embrace. As the last words of her spell left her lips Ma'ia could already see the underbrush beginning to writhe.

With one spell complete the druid pulled her horses reigns to back away from the fray. Glancing to the blotchy shaman and his archers the elf began to make ready for another spell.

(OOC: Casts Entangle. The spell is targeted so that Ma'ia and her companions will be just clear of the writhing plants in order to catch as many orcs as possible)