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In a world whose sun has not been seen for centuries and the passage of days is marked only by the cycls of the three moons; in a nation of men who worship a goddess of nature and rever werecreatures as holy and blessed beings, it is here that our story begins.

It is this day, early in the cycle with the white moon riding high and the silver just cresting the horizon that you leave Valin's capital city behind. It will likely be many days before you bed down in safety once again, for even the well-traveled roads are not without their dangers. Longer still will it likely be before you feel the soft, salty sea breeze upon your face. Yet your path is set before you, and half of your fee is paid.

(each of you get 50 gp, half of the negotiated price for your services)

It was a human merchant, bound for a city in the Illurian Empire to the west, that hired you on. "There is much gold to be made there." the man said, "but more and more caravans fail to return from the trip of late." Perhaps that is why he is paying so well for skilled guards.

The caravn you escort consists of four wagons. Two of them are covered tightly with oil cloth to protect the merchant's goods from the elements. The other two have a similar cloth covering a square framework, allowing enough room for a small man or perhaps an elf to stand within. Each of these wagons is pulled by a pair of draft horses.
The first of these wagons is steered by the marchant himself, Allyn by name. He is a man in his early thirties judging by his appearance, with a physique more akin to a soldier or farmer than the usual fat merchant. The other wagons are controlled by armed and armored guards, not unlike yourselves.
The last member of your party is the merchant's young daughter Kyla, a young maid that must be in her early twenties at most. She spends most of her time in the rear wagon, sketching the world as it passes and chatting with the guard guiding the wagon. In the single day since you left the city you have all noticed that the two of them are becoming ever more friendly, yet you were paid to guard the merchant's goods, not the virtue of his daughter.

Well into the second cycle of your journey a tremendous CRACK followed by the whiney of startled horses and the loud cursing of one of the guards.

"What happened?" Allyn shouts back from the lead wagon as he draws the column to a halt.

"The damned wheel broke sir!" The guard said as as he cursed under his breath.

"We've got spares in the second wagon Harl. Get it changed and do it quickly! We can't be late for our arrival or they may not let us in the gates!"

"Yes'sir." The guard, apparently Harl by name, grumbles.

The three drivers climb from their seats and begin to unpack one of the spare wagon wheels.

(Since no one in the group knows anyone else, I figured I would give you a chance to get to know each other, talk to the NPCs you are accompanying, etc. or take any other actions you see fit at this point)

One of the men hired to guard the wagons can be seen along the sides of the road, among the brambles and fallen logs deep drifts of fallen leaves. He walks with an easy grace among the detritus, his way seemingly unimpaired by the undergrowth as he keeps along side the caravan. His cloak is tied in a bundle along his pack, his bare arms under the old-looking leathery armor lean with muscle.

His hair hangs long and unevenly cut along his shoulders, and on occasion as he moves, it stirs, revealing an older puckered burn scar that covers his neck and continues down into his rough spun shirt and up past where can easily be seen. The young man already has a weathered appearance, his skin a deep tan from years spent outdoors, and the hand gripping the heavy staff he uses as a walking stick is thick with callouses.

Trotting beside him in a immense dog. It neck and shoulders easily come up above the man's waist. Its coat is matted along the belly and legs from the dew and dirt, and it run/walks with an easy lope. The dog's snout is almost perpetually digging among the branches and undergrowth excitedly searching out scents. Ever so often, as the man chews on a bit of jerky, he will toss a small bit, which the animal snaps up in midair with a practiced ease.

At the sound of the break, the man stops. He looks outward among the trees and brush for a few moments before walking towards the fallen wagon.

Seeing some of the other hired guardsmen, he gives a quiet nod as he pulls from his waterskin. He seems to think about something for a moment before tossing it in a friendly manner to one of the other guardsmen. "I'm Raif." He turns his eyes back to the woods, scanning again while the drivers heave at the wagon. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to know who I may have to trust to watch my back out here..."

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Allyn turns to you (Kyara), looking away from the tumbled wagon.

"No. It should only take a few minutes if they can get the wagon lifted high enough. I'd hate to leave you behind, though I'd welcome a nice slab of venison that didn't come from my own wagons." he says with a smile. "Harl is good with the wheels. He's changed them enough times for me so it shouldn't be too long."

As the wagons trundled along Heironymus couldn’t help but ponder the strange circumstances that had brought him to this road through the wilderness. A wilderness. Some wilderness. He didn’t even really know what wilderness. How had that happened? He still didn’t know.

A month ago he had simply woken up in a field near the city of Maruk. Not only did he not have any recollection of how he got there, but he had never even heard of the city before. He was just there. All of a sudden. *Poof* Or at least he thought of it as a *poof* type of situation, in reality he had simply woken up, and there he was. So maybe it hadn’t been as sudden as a real *poof* but that was how he thought about it. And as far as he knew, there was nobody to contradict him, so a *poof* it was.

But having established that he had arrived in a *poof* really didn’t answer any questions. Having woken up he had done what had seemed the most logical thing to do – head towards the city and start asking questions. And so he did. And got very few answers. He did learn that the city was called Maruk, which was part of the realm of Valin. But that hadn’t helped very much.

He had spent a month searching the city for something that might seem familiar, some indication of where he might be. Even the few maps he had located had not contributed much to his sorely lacking store of knowledge. He had not even been able to locate a proper temple. And certainly this city looked like it could use a protecting temple. But there wasn’t one.

After the month was up he found himself still short of two critical things: money and information. When the opportunity arose to join the caravan it seemed a welcome opportunity. Here was a chance to make some money. He wasn’t broke, but that eventuality wasn’t far off if some form of income was not found. And it would offer him a chance to travel and see what was out there. Perhaps something would be familiar? Perhaps somewhere he would find a map he might recognize? If the city of Maruk had offered no clues, then maybe the next town down the road would.

He just needed to get through this wilderness and find out what and who was on the other side. Thus he found himself in the caravan accompanied by a range of guards hired to defend it from whatever might be out there.

When the wagon wheel broke he was a bit nervous. Or perhaps alert was a better word. Whenever your mobility was limited, it provided an excellent opportunity for attack – and there must be some reason the merchant had decided he needed so many guards. So as the guards and drivers attempted to change the wheel, Heironymus carefully scanned the woods while bringing up his crossbow – making sure it was loaded. He also took a moment to try and see why the wheel had broken – was it simply a rut or was this delay planned by someone?

As he scanned the woods, the man Raif approached, introduced himself, and tossed him his waterskin. Heironymus caught the proffered water and took a brief drink. Keeping his eyes on the woods, he offered the water to another of the guards.

“Well met Raif. You seem well suited to travel through the wilds – I suspect I will be very glad to have you on this journey. You and the hunter here,” he added, indicating Kyara. “My name is Heironymus. Have you travelled in these lands before?”

Then I will hunt while I scout, perhaps something will cross my path. Kyara whistled softly for Moondancer, her elven steed. The dappled silver dun stallion trotted up swiftly and swung himself to the side so Kyara could mount easily despite his height. She paused a moment though before mounting, looking towards the scruffy dog. She shook her head at his condition matted hair A person should own an animal unless they took care of it. She looked to where the man know and Raid share a waterskil with the cleric. SHe would have to speek to him later.

Turning back to Allyn. "I will ride ahead and see what I can find for the pot, it may just be a few rabbits."

Raif nodded in response the elven huntress's words. He had deep respect for the elves and how they helped him. While he knew that all of the peoples of the world ran the gamut from selfless to selfish, he always took the time to listen closely to what the elves spoke of. Their long lives sometimes gave them valuable insight that he knew he may need to someday draw upon on this soul searching journey of his.

"No, I haven't," he stated in response to Heironymus's question. He gave a small smile, the burn on the left side of his cheek and neck keeping the action stilted and stiff. "But I look forward to learing what I can of it."

Raif watches as the elven woman gracefully mounts her steed, the huge brute of a dog watching the horse come closer with intense curiousity. The dappled black and brown fur shivers as the dog gives a heroic sneeze and shakes his body, bits of leaves and dew flying off. He turns his head suddenly, leaping off into the nearby brush. A small bird explodes from its hiding place as the massive animal watches it launch skyward with an almost forlorn look on its face, then it continues its eager exploration of the area.

The young man turns back towards the other guard. "I'm going to move towards the head of the group here. I don't want to tell you your business, but if I were of a mind to make a snatch at some ripe plunder, now would be the time to do it. If you can set a watch here, I'll take the other end." He walks towards the front of the small caravan, the large dog stopping its exploration and loping quickly to catch up. Raif pauses for a moment to call back over his shoulder. "And it was nice meeting you Heironymus."

Two of the guards put their backs firmly against the crippled wagon and slowly lift it as Harl works to remove the old wheel and replace it.

A loud bark and a snarl from the hound beside Raif is your only warning before a pair of arrows pierce the chest of one of the lifting guards. The sudden attack forces him to release the wagon. With a thunderous crash and a blood curdling scream of pain the wagon crashes to the ground pinning the second lifting guard beneath it. Harl dives to the side as the wagon falls and barely avoids being pinned himself as the arrow-ridden guard falls tot he ground.

More arrows rain in from both sides of the road, one stopping Raif short by embedding itself firmly in the wagon not inches from his head. From each side of the road two men charge out shouting battles cries with swords raised high.

"Someone wake the dwarf!" Allyn yells as he grabs a staff from his wagon to defend himself. "I'm not paying him to sleep while my livelihood gets stolen!"

"Jocelyn, take cover in one of the wagons!"

As instructed, the merchant's daughter promptly dives under the fallen wagon, seeking shelter against the deadly arrows.

The young man turns to the forest with a snarl that matches the hound's. He calls out loudly in a tongue that sounds ancient and guttural, suddenly, the plants, brush, and seemingly the roots themselves come to life, wrapping around and among the incoming attackers.

(ooc: Casting Entangle. Just realized the dynamic of the scene. Where should we post ooc explanations for things like this? This thread or Q/A?)

Virif stood on the hill overlooking the great city of Maruk. Valin’s capital. Virif reaches into his pack and withdraws a notebook given to him by his king.

Today I start my mission. The first bit of information I’ve learned is that the people of Valin foolishly worship lycanthropes. Apparently they are blessed of some god or another; blessed more like cursed if you ask me, and not by a god but by man or demon. Though in truth I can’t make that claim but it is something that should I stay in Valin I think I will attempt to study. Maruk from this view is relatively unimpressive in comparison to our own city and its defenses for a capital are juvenile. At least from what I an see standing out side of the city. Virif lowered his pen and watched the caravans coming through the gate. The trade in this region is average, though I do not think relations with the Illurians are stellar as they seem to have less caravans than other lands. Virif put his book back into his pack and began the descent into Maruk.

First order of business is getting myself a job so that I may blend in with the other adventurers. Virif sauntered as he walked through the gate winking at the children as he passed. His scale mail jingling against his Morningstar and his shield strapped to his back. Virif looked almost like a dwarven fighter except his body wasn’t as muscular as most dwarves and he was better groomed. He was groomed much as one would expect a diplomat to be groomed; his beard was carefully trimmed so that it showed dignity but wouldn’t be an easy hand hold in a fight and was braided much as a Vikings would be. His brows were plucked to show two distinctive bows but they were bushy enough to provide substantial shade for his eyes. In short he was a vision that could be used as the poster boy for civilized dwarves. His first stop, as it should have been for a dwarven poster boy, was the tavern. He ordered a dark ale and some spiced potatoes. While he sat eating his meal and determining the next best move for him and his country he couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between a merchant and another adventurer about making a trip to the Illurian Empire. The Illurian Empire huh? Virif thought, There isn’t much we Darkspire dwarves know of the out side political situation, and if its an Empire than it will want to expand so its only logical that I attempt to learn of this Empire. And I might as well get paid to do so.
“Do ya need another guard perhaps?” Virif asked the merchant flipping around in his seat.
“Yeah why are you offering?” The merchant asked trying not to seem to eager.
“Of course I’m offering.” Virif replied almost flippantly.
“So what can you do?” The merhant said moving from the other adventurer’s table to Virif’s. “Why should I hire you? It’s a dangerous trip I only want the best.”
“I’m a Darkspire Dwarf.” Virif said smiling, “That is all you need to know.” The Darkspires had gained a reputation in the local area as good fighters, smithies, and shrewd merchants, so it really should have been all the merchant needed to know. Though in truth even if the merchant hadn’t realized this he was eager to get on the road and needed a few other guards so he would have taken Virif regardless.
“Ok then I’ll hire you.” The merchant said. “The job pays 100 gold and I pay half up front. We leave in the morning. What’s your name?”
“Virif Flametouch son of Kirton Flametouch.” Virif said finishing his ale.
*************************************************************************************
That’s how Virif found himself sleeping with his legs propped up against the wagon wall in the caravan’s third wagon. He even managed to sleep through the loud crack of the wheel breaking, but somehow he didn’t sleep through the whizzing sound of arrows thunking into a man’s chest.

“Finally some action!” Virif said hopping to his feet. “I was beginning to get bored.”
"Someone wake the dwarf!" Allyn yells as he grabs a staff from his wagon to defend himself. "I'm not paying him to sleep while my livelihood gets stolen!"

"Jocelyn, take cover in one of the wagons!"
Virif jumped from his wagon and pulled his shield in front of his body. He scanned the area where the bandits were hiring as one of the other guards began yelling in a strange language. There ya go, yell obscenities in Infernal at them. It’ll scare them silly. Virif thought even as another part of his mind was counting the bandits he could see and yet another part ws pulling from his subconscious the words to a spell. Let’s see which spell would help in the circumstance? Virif pondered, perhaps some fire or maybe a little cold. Options…options, fire it is then. Virif began speaking in the musical language of magic weaving his free hand in drilled motions hitting each sign. He concentrated on the power that was inside of him calling his chakra forth setting the necessary arcane symbols into the air to create a lesser orb of fire which he proceeded to hurl at the apparent leading bandit.

(OOC info: I’m assuming that because of my sleeping I don’t get a very good initiative roll but if I do get one then my bonus is +2. I’m using the Lesser Orb of Fire spell which does 2d8 fire damage cause I’m level 3 and I ignore spell failure due to feats and abilities. Sorry for missing so long)

Kyara moved off the road intent on hunting something for the cook pot, instead she caught sight of a humanoid figure hiding in the trees watching the road, fortunately it had not seen hear. Behind her she heard the huge hound bark and then GROWL, along with the cries of a wounded nan and the merchant shouting.

If the figure drops to th ground sh will motion hr stallion to finish him off. Moondancer is truly more than a simpl mount, he is her companion-at-arms. Kyara quietly drew her bow and nocked anothr arrow, drawing it back smoothly to full draw she targets the humanoid she had spotted hiding in a tree.

Once she aimed and released her string which hurled the arrow and snatched another from her quiver, notching and drawing it ready to fie again.Kyara plans is to put this enemy down then move on coming in behind whoevr is attacking the caravan.

The road around the caravan erupts into chaos as the battle is joined.

A sphere of red fire sails through the air from the hand of the newly roused dwarf, bursting as it impacts one of the charging brigands north of the caravan. The instant of intense flames leaves the man's clothing burnt and armor charred black and the smell of burnt flesh reaches your nostrils at his approach, yet he charges on, angrily lashing out with his longsowrd as he reaches the dwarf that caused him so much pain. But Virif is rather nimble for a dwarf and manages to dodge aside as the powerful downward slash whistles just inches from his flesh.

(You strike the brigand for 10 points of fire damage, wounding him badly.)

The other brigand charging from the north heads straight for Allyn, attacking in the manner of a trained warrior. His attacks, however, yield no better results than his companion's. Allyn attempts to return the attack, but he is no match for the brigand's training and fails to successfully land a blow.

In the flurry of clashing blades and piercing arrows you (Virif) see Harl and Jocelyn fleeing the caravan into the northern woods, chased by a flurry of arrows that embed themselves into the ground at their heels. Harl leads the way, guiding Jocelyn with his left hand, sword held ready in his right.

At that moment Raif finishes his spell casting and the underbrush along the southern side of the road comes alive. Grasping weeds and roots wrap themselves around the two brigands charging from that side, tripping them both. They struggle and manage to regain their feet by sheer brute force but, for the moment, they are ensnared. Marga, the loyal hound, stands ready, guarding your (Raif) flank should one of the brigands get too close during your casting.

Heironymous aims his crossbow at one of the now entangled brigands, but seeing as they are temporarily incapactate, chooses to hold his shot. (Inaction is the price for the lack of a post)

An arrow lets fly from just up the road as the scout turns and fires into the trees. There is no cry of pain, and no body falling from the branches, so the result of her attack remains unknown.

Two more arrows fly from the trees on the southern side of the road, diving towards Raif and Marga. One hits a nearby wagon with a dull thump, but the other bites deeply into the dog's flank.

(The arrow hits marga for 8 points of damage)

(This post is in initiative order. I look forward to seeing what you do next.)