Perhaps Stone’s Hollow was best known for its fine wines. It is said that the grapes are so rich in taste because Maelamin is so close.
“Sylvari ground water!” they say, though it is just as likely that the vines use the Thrace River as their well, which finds it source in the Kharolis Mountains.
As everything in Coria, it must be the blend of Sylvari and Khordaldrum influences mixed with the hard labour of men that eventually forms the superb aromas, unequalled in all of Antaron.

But Stone’s Hollow WAS best known for its fine wines. Recently, a quite different export product has overstepped the fame of its red and white alcoholic refreshments. It’s a group of heroes, known as:

The Monster Hunters Collective!
This is a recollection of how they came to be.

---

Stone’s Hollow, Coria
Things were turning quiet after a beautiful day. The work on the fields was done, and the labourers were returning home. The blacksmith was closing the double doors to his workshop, giving a last nod to his neighbour, the wood sculptor, who was doing the same. At the town square, the elderly woke up from the benches surrounding the fountain, where they had dosed off after chatting for hours. Nightlife would soon begin, and it held no place for wrinkled faces. The young would be taking over the square, with their giggling, boasting and love making. The local wines and beers would be flowing richly, the establishments near the square happily supplying whatever was requested.

Life for the town’s folk went on peacefully. There wasn’t much to worry about. The soil was generous and supplied a good harvest. Trade was going well, and though there were poor folk as in any part of the world, there was a strong community to support them. Stone’s Hollow was a place without worries, it seemed.

Then people found a severed arm near the fountain, and everything changed.

Nobody knew where the arm came from; none of the locals seemed to be missing. Even all the customers of the inns were still in their establishments. Nothing appeared to be wrong, but for that bloody limb that had apparently come out of nowhere.

Still, fear had been planted. The next few days life slowly regained itself, but it was not as frivolous as it had been. People were cautious, and over a few days more, it became clear that not as many visitors graced Stone’s Hollow as usual.

And the fear grew.

One evening the village was startled when a man came running from the forest path. He was white with fear and he collapsed in the arms of the men who found him. When he came to, many of the town’s folk had gathered, and they all heard his feverish tale of an unnaturally large wolf made of shadows, which had stalked him on his way to the town.

The next day, the mayor called for a search of the woods. A wolf was found and killed, but it was an ordinary animal. The people hoped that the time of trouble had passed. Time would prove otherwise.

Over a week, fewer travellers arrived. Caravans and single wagons still made it to Stone’s Hollow, but lone merchants and pedlars were no longer seen. Trade still fared, but not as well as it used to. But where travellers grew thin, stories and wild speculations flourished, increased by a few sightings of the beast that stalked the forest road.

Stone’s Hollow had just a few guards, but they were posted at the entries to the village at night.

Then a stranger arrived, covered in blood. He was an older man, dressed in the gear of a mercenary or adventurer. He barely made it into town, and with the help of a guard stumbled into the Golden Barley Inn. On his back was a series of long gashes that still oozed crimson; the mark of a claw. The man told them his name was Geron Twoblades, and he had come from the city of Coria, when he was attacked by a wolflike creature. He had defended himself with his sword and dagger, and had pushed the creature back enough to make a run for it. He had not caught much of the thing that attacked him, since the darkness covered it too much.
The local doctor was called, and Geron’s wounds had been treated as best as they could.

The following day, there was another gathering at the town’s square. This time it was not a severed arm that caused commotion, but a paper sign:

Wanted: Brave men and women to form a Hunting Party. Applicants speak to Geron Twoblades in the Golden Barley Inn.
The rumour mill was running like never before. Some whispered Geron was offering a hundred gold pieces to anybody who’d join him. Others said the mayor objected to this initiative. It was even said that this was just a ruse, and Geron was a servant of the wolf and would lead the to their deaths.

There was only one way to find out if any of these rumours held any truth.

(OOC: This game has been opened. Feel free to start posting whenever you have time. You'll find Geron in the common room of the inn. A small line has already been formed in front of his desk.)

Hammer, stone, chisel, pick and polish. These things made Traubon who he was, defining his life by his work. No good Khord would go without a great profession and stone craft was his families forte. Back in the holds of the clans his ancestors helped carve out the very halls that now make their way below the Kharolis mountain range, but here in StonesHollow Traubon only crafted minor things for the humans and Sylvari around him. Walls, eatery, houses, fences, art, anything that they wanted built he would do. And they did order daily since Khord crafting is second to none when it comes to stonework, and many pieces, even the smallest cups and forks would out last their owners, solely because they were crafted by a Khord.

Back in the Kharolis mountains, his family also established a rich and legendary history of being one of the few families in the clan halls able to uphold the title, Stonelords. The Patriarch of each generation would become a great and noble warrior of the earth, defending the halls and mines of all the Khord clans. Rightfully being the first and only son to the late Galvenal Strakelheim, it was Traubons turn to take up the family heirloom and become the Stonelord of his generation, and he would gratefully do it to if he were back in the holds. Alas, he wasn't back in the holds, and he cannot relish in the celebrating, or sing the songs of the stone since he sat in Stoneshollow, crafting away the days in his hovel. But don't feel pity, because Traubon does not feel pity so you shouldn't either. He chose this path and his reasons are his own, as one could only guess why he did it those many months ago.

The sun rose above the trees and peeked its way into the small glass window. Traubon slowly rose stretching from his bed, yawning as he sat up. He made his way to the pantry and took out what he would need to make himself a breakfast of biscuits, gravy and eggs. He cooked up the meal and sat down at his small wooden table, only one chair tucked underneath. Traubons hovel on the edge of town was as quaint as you could get, one main room with a small table and chair, a wood stove, a padded bench with the padding almost all gone, and a large dresser where all of Traubon's clothing currently sat. Quills and parchment were scattered on one half of the table, and pushing aside one large leather bound book, the other side was clear for his meal.

He slowly ate up, taking time to appreciate the sun coming through his eastward window. Another window just opposite were the only ones, but that was all he needed as the sun rose and set, giving him wonderful lighting. Back in the holds he didn't get much direct sunlight if at all, and on his trip down south he came to like the way a setting sun reddened the sky, and how in the morning the sun would break away all mist and chills. He did get the occasional feeling of being to exposed, but what dwarf wouldn't when a solid rock layer was almost always above you, and then suddenly sky.

Finishing up his meal he took his dishes to the wash bin and then dressed, heading outside behind his hovel. That is where his real lively hood was, a shed almost the size of his house sat locked up waiting to be entered. Traubon unlocked it and entered, and smiled. Inside was a large work bench with many tools upon it, and stone pieces were everywhere. Large hunks or rock down to fist size stones sat, but he walked right past all of this, and grabbed a large haft that sat upright in the corner of the room. He pulled it out into the light and gripped the wooden pole, and then looked up to the large halberd head that sat upon the top. He turned it a few times in his hands, and sighed. "Pa, why'd you have to go and get yourself killed..." He spoke in his native tongue of Khordaldum to himself, and brought the pole arm out into the small yard.

Surrounding his yard was the edge of the forest that the town sat nestled in, and many stumps were around that used to sprout trees, but all fell to Traubon when he bought the place. He sat on one of the stumps, and pulled out a handkerchief, polishing the blade. The Halberd itself was magnificent in design, the haft made of a hard cherry wood stained deep red. Two leather grips expertly fastened to the haft sat comfortably where your hands would be if you were to wield it in combat, and the halberd head had a large axe blade with a sharp curved hook on the back, and a broad narrow spear tip on top, all made from the finest Khord steels, and polished every morning by Traubon himself.

Traubon then stood, and gripped the pole arm in both hands. He took the weapon and began to slowly move with it, copying attacks, guards, blocks, sweeps, and jabs just as his father had taught him and how the book explains it as well. He practiced all morning jabbing, sweeping, slashing tree trunks until they splintered.

By around eight, Traubon bathed, dressed and headed into town with a coal pencil and parchment ready, and a small pouch of silver to buy some groceries. Stones Hollow was a peaceful wonderful place to live in, but maybe he settled in the wrong place for what he ultimately wanted from it. Maybe it was [i]too[/i] peaceful to do him any good, and soon he felt he would get stuck in a rut and be embedded in the cheerfulness too much to get away.

Minutes later after a brisk walk and still deep in thought, Traubon found himself in the town square. He had been through here countless times, every time commenting on how one of the stone fixings on the fountain had been crafted poorly, forever irked by its flaws. But today his attention was diverted away from that daily peeve, and onto a large crowd around something nearby. His heart started racing as he headed closer, secretly longing deep down inside the possibility that maybe, something was about to kick start his life once again.

When he fought his way through the crowd he stopped as he saw, laying in the center of the crowd was a disembodied arm, bloody and ownerless. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, as this was the closest he's been to real blood and gore. Once before deep in the halls as a child, he had almost been slain by some goblins but he hadn't witnessed their ill befallen fate as his father had rescued him. Now, today was his first time experiencing a real problem, flesh and blood and all. Maybe it was his blood line or just his Khord ways, but Traubon did not feel fear or sickness, he just gritted his teeth and breathed deeply, looking around for the owner, or culprit but nothing could be seen. Soon enough the authorities parted the crowd and like clockwork the rumors started to fly.

The next few days went by so quickly to Traubon he couldn't keep up with everything. Rumors flooded to his ears as he drank a the tavern, spoke with customers, and chit chatted around town. Then a sighting. A man ran to town ranting and raving about some wolf, a stalking shadowy figure seemingly ripped out of the nightmares of any child.

The wolf hunt was called the next day, and Traubon happily volunteered. The change of pace and adrenaline got him pumping, feeling like this kind of life was what he was meant to have and the mundane business part of him had to be shelved. Something sparked within Traubon that day on the wolf hunt, and even though they only killed a normal wolf from the woods, the stone had been unturned within him and there was no going back. Either Stoneshollow had to give him what he wanted or he had to move on. Luckily for Traubon, the former was about to unfold.

A week later as business was dwindling, another man came to town, only death crept in with him as large bloody claw marks donned his back. Traubon wasn't there to see it himself, but someone ordering a set of stone mugs had told him everything, even the part about a hunting party, rewards and possible death. Traubon took the order and as the man left, he went to his halberd. "Pa, I think now's the time. It's why I left the holds, why I came here. Not just for all the Khords back home, but for everyone here on Antaron."

He took the halberd inside his hovel with him and then dug through the bottom drawers of his dresser. Slowly he pulled out a dusty and well used suit of leather armor. When he had left his home, he had not one ounce of protection save his halberd. Luckily the caravan group he had hitched a ride with was kind to him and his help along the way, giving him discounts on wares. He had purchased this suit, and the dagger that was with it as a way to have some sort of protection. He polished up the leather, cleaned the dagger and polished that up, and set it aside on his table. He bathed, dressed in his favorite red vested tunic and dark earthy breeches, buckled on his boots and headed to the Golden Barley where this Geron Twoblades waited for volunteers.

As Traubon found his way inside the inn, he looked around for anyone obviously fitting of "Geron Twoblades". He quickly spotted desk with the man sitting behind it, and a small line formed in front. Traubon was slightly disheartened to see so many already ahead of him, but he headed over anyways to find himself a spot. Patiently he waited for his turn to speak, hoping he was still able to participate even though a good amount of people already found their way before him. Once it was his turn, Traubon spoke up to Geron.

"Mah' name is Traubon Strakelheim, I am here to help rid' ye' of this wolf. Will ye' have me? " He gave a slight formal bow, making sure to keep his red beard neatly straight, but still sounded slightly silly as his accent was heavily influencing his Apanonese even though he had been practicing for months.

Hailing from an ancient line of rogues, Ta'nil came to be the 1225th rogue of his family. Coming to Stone hollow, he sat in his new home for a year. There he practiced his dagger flourishes and walked around town meeting people. As the time of a festival came around, he was the first one to enter as a street performer, with only his dagger, he received praise for his technique.

That is until the guard came to his house saying that they needed a scout. He was made a scout for new squad of guard that patrolled the newly added part of the town called Lastina'morel'tana. He was quickly promoted to the messenger as well as scout as he was known as Swiftfoot early on by some of the guard. He later proved it by scouting the area known as Cormlond, the only area most of the scouts would not go to because the sylvari of the area refuse entrance to all but other elves;Cormlond is also known as Bekyiinmotinor or the zone of death, luckily, his grandparents lived there and he was warmly welcomed by the people of Cormlond. Later on he heard the cry for people to hunt monsters and he walked towards the inn.

After two weeks of journeying to Mealamin, he finally arrived at Cormlond

As he crossed the border into Cormlond, Ta'nil felt a sudden feeling of belonging, as if he had been here his entire life. Suddenly, a group of Sylvari lept from the trees and surrounded him. Minutes later he was receiving praise and thanks for coming back to the homeland; as he was released two people came to him and embraced him so deeply that he couldn't help know who they were. "You've come home, we were wondering when you would." they said. "Takan, Takana." This time, he embraced them.

Hours later he was in their home having tea and crumpets listening to the stories they told of great adventures coming into their midst and proclaiming that they, had slain the mighty dragon of the east mountains. the clan slew them one by one as they relied on the dragon of the east mountain for trade. Thus Yowtyone became known as Bekyiinmotinor, or the land of death. He later told his own tales of how he came to Stone Hollow and was employed as the scout for number 5 squad. Number 5 squad or Lastina'morel'tana(dependent on grace), and how he was swiftly raised to messenger as well, as the elder messenger had died hours before his raising. He was handed the family dagger, The Orpano'rasro(death wing) and sent with a gratuitous welcome back and a invitation to come back at a later time.

He appeared before his squad captain and the second ion command to report on what occurred in Bekyiinmotinor. He told them that he was welcomed with a party and a deep embrace from his Takan and Takana. He also told of his recieving the Orpano'rasro. Well, he spared no detail. He came across a sign in the town square and wondered what was occurring, so the curious young Sylari as he was, he left for the inn and waited in line. He waited in line for a half hour before coming before Geron Twoblades. "I am Ta'nil, scout and messenger of Lastina'morel'tana and I was wondered if I could be of assistance." *eagerly awaiting a response he took out the Orpano'rasro marveling at its beauty and balance before putting it away.*

“Eureka!”

Boom
“Shinara's sneer! That woman is trying to kill me!”

And thus Glitch had figured out yet another way not to create alchemal fire. He had done it before... once or twice. Ok once, and that was purely by accident. Acid was another story, Glitch had long since mastered the arts of creating THAT. It was barely even a challenge anymore. But alas with this explosion he had run out of materials... and burned yet another hole into his table.

Perhaps a wooden work bench was a bad idea for making fire. Alas, he was stuck until the caravan from Caelstra arrived with fresh alchemy ingredients. He should probably stop off at Traubon's too and place an order for a new alchemy table out of stone. If his calculations were correct a stone table should be able to hold up to his pace of crafting. It might cost more but his floor will thank him when drops chemicals stop leaving small craters in it. Hopefully his magic woodworking hammer will work on stone. Until then...

Glitch reached over to his ornate hammer with Khord writing down the side of it, spoke a few words in the language of the dwarves, and swung the hammer with all his (granted not much) might at the table, causing it to splinter. Then while still hovering in the air, the splinters began to reorient themselves in the table, and then the holes filled in. Murdock called it “mending,” and in typical human fashion he never did see the scientific angle. Glitch had no such use for mending robes and books like his master, but rather tools and workbenches. Thus the Mending Mallet was created.

Sadly the caravan never came. This stupid wolf shadow was starting to get in the way of science. Glitch wasn't really sure how this wolf shadow was able to hurt people. Glitch's shadows never seem to be able to interact with the physical world at all.

He had to work on this...

Days went by and the caravans got even fewer in number. Eventually one of the injured decided to fight back. He was calling a militia! This was perfect! Not only could he get the supplies coming again, but he might even have some fun with it and figure out this mystery shadow. He had to sign up.

The small Brathun grabbed his special goggles and set out for the Inn.

Traubon was in line too. Silly Khords always looking for a fight. “Hey Trau. Nice desk by the way. My floor thanks you. Here any rumors about what we're hunting?”

Alyannah was walking with Helena through the town, making their usual rounds to visit some of Stone’s Hollow’s sick and elderly. Not so usual these days, thought the young apprentice. Fear had hung heavy over the idyllic village these past days. First, the severed arm in the town square; then ol’ Garret – a fine woodsman he was – comes running into town, raving about some wild wolf. And now, this stranger, Geron – Aly had seen him briefly when she had delivered some special herbs for Helena to the doctor – he came with wild tales of the beast, and some fairly wicked claw marks to boot.

Even Helena, whom Aly knew as one of the most serene sigies in all of Stone Hollow, seemed burdened by the weight of the town’s fear. “There’s something out there, sweetie,” she’d said. “I feel in my bones, though the earth itself seems not ready to reveal what it is to my mind.”

“I’m sure all will soon become clear, ma’am,” replied Aly reassuringly.

But Helena remained troubled. And her worry increased all the more as the two approached the town square only to find a commotion of activity again. The people respectfully stepped aside for the wise woman as she moved to the center to see what all the excitement was about. Aly followed close behind. The elder druid examined the paper, which was the cause for the gathering, briefly and then turned away without a word. Aly took a moment longer to read the simple poster. Brave men and women wanted for a hunting party? See Geron in ol’ Barley Inn? Aly was a bit surprised that the injured stranger was up and at it already. Eager as a newborn lamb to get up and try his legs, he is, she thought, mildly annoyed at the man’s disturbance of the peace.

When Helena and Aly arrived back at their home on the edge of town, the elder seemed caught up in her thoughts. “Is something the matter, ma’am?”

Helena came out of her reverie for a moment, only to say, “Why don’t you make us some tea, little doe, and then join me under the old oak. I need to think a bit more.”

Aly nodded and curtsied before setting out to do her mistress’ will. She did not hurry about her work, for these past five years had taught Aly to know when Helena wished for some time alone to root herself and deeply embrace the world around her.

When the tea was brewed, Aly carefully placed the pitcher and the cups upon a stone tray -- a fine piece of craftsmanship purchased from the gentle Traubon -- and fetched a couple of corn meal muffins she had baked earlier that day. She found Helena under the ancient oak tree near their home, kneeling. Her body was still, yet her eyes seemed to be searching for something under their closed lids. Aly patiently and silently waited for her mistress, careful not to interrupt whatever communion she was experiencing.

The elder druid suddenly gasped and her eyes opened wide. “Ma’am!” Aly cried out. Helena caught her breath, comforting her apprentice, “It’s okay, my dear,” said she weakly, and then laughly lightly as she continued “Even at my age there are still some lessons to learn, sweetie. And today’s lesson: Never try to pick the fruit of knowledge before it is ready to be harvested. Either you will be unable to wrestle it from the world, or it will spoil in your mind.”

Aly tucked the saying into her own mind for later processing while offering Helena a cup of tea. The old sigie sipped it slow, stopping to say thanks after her first pull. “It is delightful, as usually, Aly.” Helena paused briefly for a moment, before adding, “I say indeed miss your tea.”

“Thank yo...” began Aly, before she caught the implications of her mistress’ words. “What do you mean ‘miss’ it, ma’am? Are you going somewhere?”

“Sit down, little doe,” Helena indicated the grass next to her. When Aly had made herself comfortable, Helena continued. “I would like you to speak to the stranger about joining his hunting party.”

Aly looked at Helena incredulously, “What? Er... I mean... sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean?”

Helena took a long, deep breath, before speaking, “Aly, I am well into my winter years, and you are nearly out from your spring ones. It is time for me to fade and you to grow. It is time for you to walk the world on your own two feet.”

“Oh, ma’am, please don’t say this,” cried the young Cidal. “I’m not ready yet to make it alone.”

“Now, now,” laughed Helena. “Who said anything about being alone. I’m not ready to be alone. No, no, I meant just a short time away... just a short journey for you... an adventure and a lesson, sweetie. You’ll see,” she smiled.

Aly smiled too, but it was a bit more forced. “I’ll go, ma’am. See if this stranger will even take me along on his hunt. I doubt he had a sheepherder’s daughter in mind when he placed the poster.”

Helena smiled widely. “Take Aidan with you to keep you company. He could use a little adventure, and I suspect his nose might be of some use to you before you’ll journey is complete.” She paused before adding, “Besides, he’d just whine the whole while you were gone, so you might as well take him and give me a bit of peace around here.” Turning back to the house, she whistled, “Aidan!”

====================================


Aly and Aidan made their way to the ol’ Barley Inn. Sure enough the stranger was sitting there behind his desk, and a small line of townsfolk had formed already. Aly was impressed at the people of Stone’s Hollow. Seemed the stranger had found a way to help the folks turn their fear into a bit of courage.

“Eh, look, Jared,” said a familiar voice behind Aly. Carson. The young sigie was a thorn for the Cidal. “Little Aly fancies ‘erself a warrior.”

The little druid ignored the man’s taunts as they continued through the line. “Wonder whether the beast would kill ‘er or not. Not a lot of meat there. The creature just might take a pass on ‘er, not waste ‘is time.”

It was just about Aly’s turn to approach the stranger’s desk, so she turned to face her tormentor for a moment, hoping to speak sense to the sigie... as if he has any! “Please, Carson, I’m on a special errand for my mistress and I would kindly like it if you did not intrude on my hopes of joining this little party.”

Carson merely raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, “Oh, I see, I see... so sorry to intrude, m’lady.”

“Next,” called the stranger. Aly gathered her wits about herself as she approached the desk.

“What kind of special errand, Aly?” mocked Carson.

“Name please, ma’am,” stated the stranger.

“Aly,” replied the Cidal lass. “Alyannah Appleblossom. Helena, Hollow’s herbalist has sent me to you.” She bowed, causing the stranger to have to peer over the edge of the desk to see the Cidal.

“Ah, yes,” Geron replied. “I remember your mistress’ kindness to me. Please give her my thanks, though I’m not sure I’ll have need for you on this hunt.”

“Oh, I know,” chimed in Carson. “The little skirt’s meant as bait. Drive the wolfman wild with lust and draw the beast out.”

“Please, sir,” pleaded Aly. “I know we’re not much to look at, but Aidan and I... well, I know we’ll be able to help you out.”

“Well,” Geron hesitated. “I’m not sure...”

“You know what they say, right, Jared,” sneer Carson. “Half the size, twice the fun.”

Aly’s nostrils flared for a brief moment. Pointing at the stranger’s mug of ale, Aly asked sweetly, “You mind if I borrow that for a moment.” Not waiting for a response, she quickly grabbed the clay cup and, in one fluid motion, spun around and launched the projectile at her tormenter.

The mug made contact with Carson’s face, the clay shattering with the impact, the dark ale sopping his hair. Stunned, the young sigie took a moment to gather his senses back. “You little wen...”

He would have enacted vengeance if Aidan had not stepped in at that moment, baring his teeth and giving the bully a low, deep warning growl. It was Jared who finally spoke wisdom, “Come on, Carson. Let’s leave her be.” Jared had no doubt noted other men in the crowd who seemed ready to come to Aly’s aid as well. He firmly pulled his friend to the door, “We don’t need no trouble.”

As the fuss died down, Aly turned to the owner of the Golden Barley, “Sorry, Whalen. Can you get our guest another round of whatever he was drinking? And what do I owe you for the mug?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Aly! Them boys had it comin’ to them. I’m just glad I got to see it!” Whalen said with a wide smile. “It’s on me today. Thanks for the entertainment.”

Aly merely gave the innkeeper a grin, before turning back to Geron. “So, sir, what do you say? Think you might have a spot for Aidan and me?”

Two and a bit years ago Jethro had moved to Stone’s Hollow, from wherever it was he had come from, and took up work at the stables in return the bed and board. As time passed it became apparent that Jethro had never come to Stone's Hollow to settle, but as time passed it had become apparent that he was becoming increasingly settled as the charm of the village lulled into a sense of belonging. As such the tall human from “elsewhere” became a lodger of the Eldon family and fully employed by Stephen Eldon at the stables. Years passed with little happening as Jethro worked away those years, as too many people do, accepting and finding peace in his lot in life. Indeed his life would have been unexceptional if it were not for events that were set in motion by a severed arm.

One-day, a couple of weeks ago, Jethro was away early to tend to the horses in the stables, he woke from his straw mattress and snuck to the pantry to help himself to dinner’s leftovers, for his breakfast. Then, once dressed, he walked the short distance across the yard to the stables and began his duties for the day; he might have noticed something by the fountain but assumed nothing of it, so was content to ignore it. As he was tending to the horse of one of the innings patrons the youngest son of the Eldon’s ran up to him and giblet in something about someone's arm, which Jethro was, again, content to ignore until the boy started attempting to drag him to the crowd that had formed by the fountain. It was like morning by then and Jethro was already looking forward to his lunch but reluctantly followed the boy into the crowd…

Then it was, next of fountain, somebody severed arm! I dismembered limb that apparently didn't belong to anyone, not even the visiting patrons that the in! Seeing the linen changed everything for Jethro. Instead of feeling scared or second he was excited. Something had changed, something had distracted that normality that he had become enslaved to, in a very metaphysical way the arm had reminded him of himself. He wasn't Jethro from “elsewhere” that had lodged with the Eldon’s. He was Jethro Ashby from Semon, Jethro who have been adopted as they, Jethro who had been trained in a marshal academy, Jethro whose father had died during his duty when others would not. He, Jethro Ashby, felt liberated and felt more alive that he had been for the past years.

Over the coming days rumour and speculation grew until a man arrived and told a feverish tale of a monstrous wolf made of shadow. The next day hunt was called for the beast, which Jethro joined, but only turned up a wolf. Jethro volunteered to join the guard and stand on the night watch. Over the coming week he missed sleep, fell tired at work, and twice slept through the day. Stephen stopped paying him and turned his family’s home, so he asked for a bed in the guard house. Then, a few days after, a bloody stranger arrived in the town, his back covered with deep gashes. The man was given a bed in the inn after receiving healing and recounted his story. The morning after a notice had been posted on the fountain, a request for men and women to hunt for the beast a second time.

Jethro found the newcomer in the inn, as the notice had said, and joined the long line of townspeople eager to rid their corner of Coria from the beast. Jethro recognised a couple of the faces, the mason who had joined himself on the earlier hunt and the slyven scout… but none others. Arriving at the table he gave his name and reason to join the hunt. ”Jethro. I joined the first hunt few nights back and it’s a duty to Stone’s to kill this beats so I will do it.”

The inn was growing more and more crowded. It was strange then, that the line in front of Geron’s desk was not growing proportionally. People joined in, but apparently most of the townsfolk just came to the Golden Barley Inn as spectators. Curiosity was obviously greater than their bravery. Which was perhaps nothing to be ashamed of, since most of them had businesses, or worked for one, and had no desire to face a monster that could well kill thém as it had killed the flow of customers.

Geron sat behind his desk like a merchant, observing his ware and weighing its value. Occasionally he would grunt as he repositioned himself in the chair, but he would not accept any aid if offered. He took the pain from his back wound and turned it into determination, it seemed.
He was an older man, in his fifties, with millimetred white hair and blue eyes under wrinkled brows. He wore a loose white shirt that morning, and on the back of his chair hung a heavy belt with several pouches and a scabbard for a longsword, empty. In front of him he had a piece of paper, a mug of ale, and a bottle of ink. With a pen formed of a goose feather he wrote down information on applicants who triggered his interest. He hadn’t written much yet.

Then Traubon stepped up. Geron had just explained to old lady Yeraldine that she did not meet the requirements of a good hunter, to which she replied a detailed description of her capabilities with her walking stick, and most precisely where she would poke it if she were refused a spot in the hunting party. The old adventurer had scribbled down some words with his pen and grinned wryly at her. He looked up and his face eased into an interested smile.

Mah' name is Traubon Strakelheim, I am here to help rid' ye' of this wolf. Will ye' have me?
Geron looked at the Khord, then replied, in quite perfectly pronounced Khordaldrum:
“You look like you can take a blow, master Strakelheim. I’ll put down your name. I can offer you 10 gold pieces for the effort, but no financial consolation to your family should you die. Is that agreeable?”

The next person in line was a local farmboy named Rouley. He was a strong lad, but obviously inexperienced as a fighter. Geron put down his name though, and the boy’s face lit up. He thanked the old man and bowed to him before leaving the inn.

Then came Ta’nil. The Sylvari was eager to be a part of this hunters team, and spoke quickly:

I am Ta'nil, scout and messenger of Lastina'morel'tana and I was wondered if I could be of assistance.
He was looked over a moment, with Geron’s gaze lingering on the dagger.
“That’s a nice blade you have there, Ta’nil. But I wouldn’t leave it exposed in a full inn. Accidents happen fast. I could use a scout’s eye and ear though. I’ll put down your name. I can offer you 10 gold pieces for the effort, but no financial consolation to your family should you die. Is that agreeable?”
He nodded with a smile, and called out to the next person in line.

Behind Ta’nil stood a young woman. She walked up to the desk and curtseyed.
“Master Geron, Lilian Drebblefoot at your service. My father may not approve of this hunt of yours, but that doesn’t mean that I should turn my back on the dangers of the woods. I’m can stand my ground with a rapier, and am as brave as any Drebblefoot. So, what do…”

She was cut off by a hand as thick as her upper arm, which gripped her shoulder and spun her around. A broad man stood next to the line, dressed in partial platemail. He had the expression of a gorilla and the facial hair to match that comparison. The local people knew him as The Brute, which was more a nickname towards his looks than towards his character. He was generally a nice man, who you just didn’t want to mess with. He was also the Mayor’s hand of justice, his fetching dog and Stone’s Hollow most honoured guard.
“Your father wants you to have no deal in this. You are meant for politics, he says. Now come with me.”
Lilian sighed, rolled her eyes and yanked herself loose.
“No, Stone’s Hollow needs to be protected. I’ll stay.”
The guard gripped her arm in one hand and started hauling her out of the inn.
“I’m sorry, Lilian. Your father was quite clear. Excuse me, folks.”
Her protests could be heard long after they both exited the establishment. When attention returned to Geron, the man was grinning from ear to ear.

“Next!” he called, after taking a sip from his ale, and a small wad of hair approached his desk. Geron leaned forward to peer beyond the desk, gave a low grunt of pain, and saw that what he had thought was a boy, appeared to be a Brathunspar with a pair of strange goggles on.
Geron and the Brath exchanged a few words. Rather, Geron spoke a few and got a stream of information in return. He nodded, listened, nodded some more, listened, held up his hand for the other to stop speaking, continued listening, nodded and then dipped his goose feather in ink.
“Yes.” he noted, “Yes, Mr Zwischenfall, I’m sure we could use one of those. I’ve added your name to the list. I can offer you 10 gold pieces for the effort, but no financial consolation to your family should you die. Is that agreeable?”

Now it was Alyannah’s turn, but she was being distracted by the boy Carson and his friend Jared.
“Name please, ma’am.” Geron pressed.

Alyannah Appleblossom. Helena, Hollow’s herbalist, has sent me to you.
Geron rememberd the old woman. She had been very kind to him, and he had felt the depths of knowledge in the woman’s eyes. He saw none of it in this Cidal’s, and none in her dog for that matter. As he started to turn Aly down, though, the boys behind her began making fun of her. The sweetness that surrounded her suddenly gave way for a spirit that lashed out with Geron’s mug. It struck one of the boys square in the face, and under pressure from the crowd’s angry glares, they thought the better of it. Aly turned.

So, sir, what do you say? Think you might have a spot for Aidan and me?
Geron sat his pen to paper. “I suppose I do. Just don’t start throwing any mugs at me, ok? Now, I can offer you 10 gold pieces for the effort, but no financial consolation to your family should you die. Is that agreeable?”

One of the last in line was Jethro. The youthful fighter presented himself swift and strongly.

Jethro. I joined the first hunt few nights back and it’s a duty to Stone’s to kill this beast, so I will do it.
“Duty or not, this will be very dangerous, Jethro. An opportunity to show Stone’s Hollow what you are worth, but also an opportunity to die. Don’t be careless out there, alright?”
He was judging the young man by his age. That much was clear. Still, his tone had not been condescending, but rather fatherlike.
“I can offer you 10 gold pieces for the effort, but no financial consolation to your family should you die. Is that agreeable?”

---

Later that day, the list of people Geron had chosen to form his hunting party was up on the town’s square. Eight names were listed: Rouley Millson, Traubon, Ta’nil, Masure, Alyannah, Jethro, Pascalle Weatherworn and (…. Vil’s guy). None of the local guards had applied, and neither had the more sturdy men such as the blacksmith and the lumberjack. This was a group of commoners who were going to stand up for their village. No matter the reason, it was an admirable gesture, and for the rest of the day, they were all quite popular amongst the good people of Stone’s Hollow.

A day later, they joined each other, to Geron’s instructions, at the end of town where the forest road lead westwards. The road was still cold from the night, and low mist oozed onto its sandy surface from the surrounding meadows. Up ahead, the forest loomed darkly. The first birds sang their lonely tunes in the distance. The old adventurer himself showed them the way.

While the world woke up, the group trotted over the road, towards the trees. The sun came up, warming not only their faces, but spreading a welcome glow over the forest as well. It transformed as they walked under the overhanging branches. No longer was it an eerie place with twisted limbs and creaking wood. Butterflies flew now, bugs buzzed and long rays of sunlight reflected on toadstools to make them glisten as if they were golden. Here and there was the sound of wildlife scurrying away as they approached.

After a good twenty minutes, Geron halted and pointed at the road. The sand was upturned there, marking the spot of his struggle with the beast. Pawprints resembling a wolf’s but bigger, lined the road. They weren’t fresh, but with a little effort the group was able to see how they went into the forest again. There they were no longer traceable though.
“This was where I was attacked. I suggest you keep your weapons at a ready. I lost my longsword in the fight, so keep an eye out for it, please.”
He observed as they readied their gear, but bit his lip as he noted Aly and her quarterstaff. He shook his head and approached her.

“I don’t need you to get close to that creature, little miss. The old herbalist would never forgive me. Here, give this a try.”

From his jacket he produced a leather strap and gave it to the Cidal. It was a sling, finely crafted, looking strong and delicate at the same time.

“We will be starting our search here. Keep together, please, and try to make as little noise as possible.”

They entered the uneven forest ground. Moss comforted their feet, and if they looked out for twigs and fallen branches, keeping relatively quiet was easy. Searching a forest for a monster that you’ve only heard about was not.

An hour passed, and they had found no sign of the creature. They had seen two deer, which had been a pleasant surprise, but nothing out of the ordinary.

It was late afternoon when their effort was finally rewarded. A rabbit suddenly came running from a cluster of bushes and ran in wild terror between the party’s legs. But more sweeping of branches and crackle of leaves could be heard from the direction the rabbit had come from. The group halted, and then the bushes burst open and a creature the size of a goat jumped in their midst. It seemed equally surprised to see more than just the rabbit and backed off a bit to let out a low growl.

There was no doubt that this thing was beyond natural. It looked most like a wolf, but with the spots and long tail of a wild cat and the mane of a lion. Eyeing the party, the monster bared its teeth. But the skin around its mouth seemed too loose; it pulled back too far, showing pink gums and exposing even a part of the chin. Yellow eyes fiercely darted from one party member to another.
Geron was the first to recover from the surprise, and yelled: “Attack!”

(OOC: combat works like this: you state your intentions, and I roll for initiative, hit and damage. Please include your characters moves for two rounds. My next update will cover either one or two rounds of battle, depending on what happens. )

Jethro had been greeted by Geron as a son, he had asked, but less asked and more checked, if Jethro was ready to risk his life. Jethro's answer was simple, although he kept it in his head. You risk yourself each time you get out bed for ta day. To Geron his response was a simple nod, and then to the question "Is that agreeable?” Jethro answered "Yes." before leaving the inn like those before him. Returning to the guard house that had been his home for the last few days he took out his things; a backpack, a Bedroll, some Flint and steel, his Waterskin, a Whetstone, a length of rope, his suit of leather armour and his trident. This gear wasn't all he had trained with, he was used to sturdier armour and heavier gear but he supposed this would do him for the task in hand. Later that day, as he was buffing up his armour to remove the scratches from it, one of the guards came telling him a new sign had been posted in the town's square. He went to check the sign, it was a list of Monster Hunters. His name was on it.

His excitement grew inside of him as he knew this was the dawn of something new and not just the promise of a sun rise. Controlling his excitement he returned to the guard house to fit his armour properly. With the help of an off duty guard he had the buckles and straps tightened so the hardened leather suit soon fitted his form as well as it had when it had been his training armour. Jethro then devoted the rest of the day to practice. It had been a long time since he had sparred with anyone and the very next battle could prove fatal. As he lunched with his trident and darted around he became ever so aware that he had gone too long without sparing, why he'd been used to training every day but for the past year he'd done little other then tend horses. Soon though, too soon, night fell and Jethro had to put a stop to his practice. He was tired and weary but more invigorated then he had been for a good wile. A small blister had formed on the inside of his hand where he'd been trying to find where he used to place his hands for the best grip... fighting was like riding a horses, it took a wile to get back into it, with the possible excepting that the horses does all the work and doesn't end with sharp pointy things.

((OOC: Sugar sausages mushrooms! I've run out of time
Very very big sorry to you all. For your reference Jethro is happy to talk as they travel and is interested in everyones histories. He is willing to talk about his own background but speaks like the last years, his time in Stone's Hollow, haven't happened. He talks a little about how his farther was killed fighting when other's who were meant to fight didn't but talks more about his training instructor who he sort of regards as a lost farther figure.

In combat he will fight using his trident in two hands and use combat expertise to shift his BAB to his AC to reflect that he is confident with his weapon but is a cautious fighter. If the opportunity rises he will attempt to flank the beast with another party member.))

“That’s a nice blade you have there, Ta’nil. But I wouldn’t leave it exposed in a full inn. Accidents happen fast. I could use a scout’s eye and ear though. I’ll put down your name. I can offer you 10 gold pieces for the effort, but no financial consolation to your family should you die. Is that agreeable?”

"Sir, it is most agreeable. "
--------------------------------------------------
As he left the inn, Ta'nil noticed Soranman trying one of the more advanced dagger flourishes.
"Hi, what form are you trying?"He asked Soranman

"Just the one you showed me last week, you know the one where you throw the blade up and catch it with the point toward you."

"I don't recommend you try that one."*performs the flourish, lets the blade go closer to his face than normal*
"You see, its more dangerous than it looks."*shows him a simpler flourish*"this one is one you are more capable of, practice for a while and then show me, just don't try the other one. Got it?"

"Yes Ta'nil. I'll try my best."
----------------------------------------------
He checked his body after getting to his and found that he had everything. Orpano'rasro, his money pouch, and a thieves tool kit. After that he went to the town square to meet his fellow hunters.
---------------------------------------------------
In the forest, Ta'nil glanced the bushes and occasionally went off to scout at Twoblades request.He found nothing. It wasn't until Geron Twoblades cried out attack that he knew it was there.


((he'll hide in the bushes and try to utilize the sneak attack. If that doesn't work, He'll try to ride the wolf thing into a tree. If hes on the ground, tumble out the way of the attacks.))

Geron sat his pen to paper. “I suppose I do. Just don’t start throwing any mugs at me, ok? Now, I can offer you 10 gold pieces for the effort, but no financial consolation to your family should you die. Is that agreeable?”

Aly turned a shade of red at Geron’s comment about the mug, “My apologies, sir. No more mug throwing. I promise.” She said, making a gesture of drawing an “X” over her heart with her finger as she spoke.

Having agreed to Geron’s terms, Aly made her way to the innkeeper, Whalen. The man was getting a mop and bucket ready to clean up the spilt ale and broken mug. “I’m awfully sorry, Whalen, for the mess I made. Can I clean it up?”

Whalen looked at the lass with wise eyes, “Well, I really don’t mind, little mousey. I’m mean, I feel bad for how those boys treated you. They had what was coming to them, that’s a sure thing.” He looked at Aly’s remorseful face before continuing. “Though I can see how mopping up might help clean your spirit too.” He handed the mop to her, “Alright, little mousey, you can clean it up, but then that’s it. We call it even then, hmmm. I don’t need you feeling like you owe me something, alright.”

“Thanks, Whalen,” smiled Aly as she took the mop and made quick work of cleaning up the mess she’d made... and mopped up the rest of the place while she was at it.

When she was finished, Aly and Aidan hurried back home and shared all that had happened with Helena.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Early the next morning, Aly and Aidan set out to meet with Geron and the rest of the hunting party at the western edge of town. While she knew the lands south and east better, the Cidal had walked through these woods before with Helena on one of their many visits to the surrounding Hamlets. Aly greeted those she knew in the party, and introduced herself briefly to those she didn’t.

As they walked and talked their way along the road, Aly freely pointed out interesting flowers and fungus, until Geron halted and pointed at the road. The sand was upturned there, marking the spot of his struggle with the beast. Pawprints resembling a wolf’s but bigger, lined the road. Aly examined the prints carefully but could not think of any creature that might make them.

“This was where I was attacked,” Geron stated. “I suggest you keep your weapons at a ready. I lost my longsword in the fight, so keep an eye out for it, please.”

Aly gripped her staff in both her hands a bit more tightly and, at that moment, locked eyes with Geron, who looked disapprovingly.

“I don’t need you to get close to that creature, little miss,” Geron said as he approached Aly. “The old herbalist would never forgive me. Here, give this a try.”

Aly took the offered sling from the sigie. She wondered for a moment if he knew, knew that almost from birth Aly had grown up with a sling. Stooping down from time to time as they walked, the young Cidal selected with practice ten smooth stones and placed them in a belt pouch, easily accessible when the time came.

Spending the most of the day walking through the woods was a good day in Aly’s eyes. And yet, she wondered how long she’d be on this little adventure. The young lass had kind of hope they’d be done by lunch and she’d be back with Helena for afternoon tea... it was now late afternoon. Hmmm... I suppose we’ll just have to do without tea today, she thought to herself.

Just then a frightened rabbit darted through her legs. Normally, Aidan would have bounded after the creature, but instead her faithful companion gave a low growl at the bushes from which the rabbit had come. Something was still thrashing in there.

A moment later, the “thing” burst through the bushes. Aly eyed the creature with fright, taking a step back. Somewhere in her mind, it registered that this rumours were most definitely false -- This is no wolf, thought the young druid. In fact, Aly doubted the thing was natural at all.

“Attack!” came Geron’s cry, rallying the party back to their senses. Aly, for her part, heeded her employer’s words and did not get any nearer to the creature. Slinging a stone, she took quick aim at the beast and let it sail. Calling Aidan with her, the Cidal looked to position herself ten to fifteen feet behind Geron, Traubon, and Jethro.

“Kith-Jora, protect us,” she whispered as she slung another stone.

[OOC: Round 1, Attack with Sling, then move as indicated above; Round 2: Move (if still needed),Attack with Sling]

“Next!”

It was his turn now. Glitch wandered up the desk and patiently waited as the old injured man strained to see him over the desk.

“After all these years you humans still make your desks far too large. It's ok though, I came prepared. Behold my invention! The automatic technoturgic levitational liquid disk!” Glitch proudly announced to all those listening. Everyone knew he was a revered alchemist, although according to his reputation he had only marginal success when it came to creating things that didn't blow up or melt through whatever they touched. The tavern understandably braced for potential disaster.

Glitch moved the strange pair of goggles from his forehead down to cover his eyes, doing nothing to mitigate the unease of the spectators in the tavern, and proceeded to reach for a small vial of silver liquid from one of the endless pockets in his apron. Using a small metal rod he took a drop of the liquid and let it drip to the floor, causing a wince from the barkeep. Glitch spoke a few words in Brathnaii and rhythmically flipped the rod like a wand. The drop of liquid metal began to swirl around on it's own, drawing gasps and muttered words from the crowd. It began to spin faster and faster, eventually growing in size to about 3 feet in diameter and one inch in depth. The liquid hardened to a shiny metallic disk, onto which the Brathunspar quickly climbed as if this was a perfectly normal thing. With another snap of the rod the disk lifted up into the air, hovering some 3 feet above the ground with the inventor standing on top of it, goggles still in the ready position.

“Ok then,” Glitch spoke, now a full three feet taller and almost eye-to-eye with the still seated Geron, “About that hunting party...”

The people were not sure whether to clap or stare. Some patrons chose to do both.

“As you can see, Mr. Twoblades, I can provide a very special service to your party. Although I am of little use with a sword, my wrench provides plenty of killing power. With a single stroke I can bring entire armies to their knees!” He pulls a rather large (by brathun standards at least) wrench out from under his tunic and swings it a few times like a sword, nearly falling off his floating platform during the jump strike finishing move.

“Besides that, my alchemal abilities are second to none in the village!” Folks like Traubin and Alyannah would know his chemical creations typically involve the demise of furniture or pieces of woodworking, but that didn't lessen the Brathun's bravado. At this point Glitch was more about the fun and the show than anything productive. Luckily (?) Geron seemed interested enough to indulge him.

“I am a very powerful little creature... I understand the way this world works in ways few others do. Behold my mastery of Magnetmancy! I have discovered the waves that hold the universe together. I am the only technit that I am aware of who possesses this secret. I have also found the secret to navigating those waves. Observe!” Glitch concluded his setup by pulling out a small round piece of glass with strange edges and affixing it to his goggles, causing one eye to appear almost comically enlarged.

Again speaking in a rhythmic Brathnaii incantation, Glitch points his wrench the direction of an unattended but full mug of ale. “Komheir!” he spoke loudly and forcefully, and swung the wrench in a huge loop. The mug lept off the table, flying through the air at an impressive speed, landing right on the desk in front of the two. “Drink, Geron? Magnetmancy has opened up brand new doors in terms of research possibilities.”

Glitch's face turned more sombre. He flipped the piece of glass off his goggle and back into his vest. “But seriously, Geron. I need to find this shadow wolf. As I have shown I have a command of the world around us that few others enjoy. I can do many things. I have invented a machine that can create wolves of shadow. In fact I can create any beast from shadow. I can create ANYTHING from shadow. My shadow creations, however, are not able to cause harm to anything material. I must know about this shadow wolf that is causing harm to living things. My research has stalled at 37 methods to create a shadow which cannot physically touch things in the material world. I have been unable to find a single way to make my machine create a shadow that can be physically felt... or even a 38th way NOT to do it. I am literally at a standstill. I did not bring the machine with me today, but if you have me on the hunt I will be happy to show you my shadow creatures. Perhaps it will be of help during the confrontation.”

The crazed inventor took the wrench and slammed it down by his foot, shattering the disk into hundreds of pieces, which promptly returned to liquid and quickly evaporated. The Branthun landed gracefully (graceful is a relative word) back in front of the desk, again unseen without strain.

“Mr. Twoblades. My name is Masure Shadowshaper Dweomermaker Techomancer Heimerdinger Zwischenfall. Most of the people here call me Glitch. I would love to join your party. Surely you can find use for a miracle worker like me.”

“Yes.” he noted, “Yes, Mr Zwischenfall, I’m sure we could use one of those. I’ve added your name to the list. I can offer you 10 gold pieces for the effort, but no financial consolation to your family should you die. Is that agreeable?”

“I'm in for the science, Mr. Twoblades! Although the gold would be nice... as would the return of the traders... and the adventure...

Count me in! But mainly for the science!”

(OOC: Just a little bit to prove I'm working on it! The rest will be in probably tonight but I do have all Sunday off so definitely then. Also I was a little liberal with the spell usage since it was all for show, but I'll be sure to post the next day's prepared spells with the next post.)

Stone’s Hollow, Coria
Ryan Van Pelt was working in the vineyard when he heard the news… a friend of his who worked for his family came running up breathless with apparently exciting news…

“Did you hear?” Brian said as he skidded to a stop…

Ryan looked up from where he knelt at the base of one of the grape vines… he had been pruning some of the branches of the vine … the vines had to be tended constantly to remove bad branches and allow the sparse nutrients to make it to the areas of the vines that contained the best bunches of grapes…

Ryan shaded his eyes from the sun and furrowed his brow at his friend…

“Did I hear what?” he asked and went back to the pruning…

“About the Monster Hunting Party?” Brian asked… Ryan’s head snapped back up at the mention of Monster hunting… he had dreamt of going after whatever it was that had been responsible for the killings of late… he had been unable to go when a group from the village had gone out hunting and found and killed a wolf… many.. Ryan included … didn’t believe that the wolf had been the thing responsible for the deaths… he had been quite upset that he hadn’t at least been allowed to go… but his uncle had forbade him from going… he had work to do in the field…

Ryan stood up wiping his hands off on his work clothes and striped off the gloves as he glanced around to see if any of his family were nearby… seeing none of them he turned to his friend…

“So? What party?” He asked as he started walking down the lines…

Brian answered by pulling a paper from his pocket … opened it and showed him…

Wanted: Brave men and women to form a Hunting Party.
Applicants speak to Geron Twoblades in the Golden Barley Inn.
Ryan had heard the man who had been attacked and made his way into town wounded had been called Geron Twoblades… it looked like the man was better now and he was looking to get whatever it was that had almost killed him…

“Are you going?” Ryan asked…

“Hell no!” Brian snorted and chuckled… “I’m not crazy… but I know that you want to… question is… are your Aunt and Uncle going to let you?”

“Well..” Ryan said as he looked around again.. “they can’t stop me if they don’t know..” He smiled and then his smile faded as he stopped walking and turned to Brian…

“They better not find out..” Ryan said looking his friend closely in the eye…

“Hey,” Brian said raising his hands defensively.. “I wont say a thing to anyone… but I think your crazy.”

Ryan slapped his friend on the shoulder… handed him his gloves and pruning shears… “good… I knew I could count on you… now get to work… your late.” He grinned as he turned and walked up the lines… headed towards the house… he heard his friend groan behind him before he started in trimming the vines…


~Later that day at the Inn~

Ryan walked into the Inn and saw a few more people than usually were here this time of day… he saw a desk with a strange man sitting behind it… a short line in front of it… and he assumed the others were here sitting at tables watching to see who would show up to sign up with the stranger to go hunt monsters…

He straightened his cloak and pulled his hat a little lower over his face… he hoped that no one here recognized him … well no one that might tell his family about him being here… he knew that most townfolks would know him on sight… he didn’t exactly dress to hide himself…

Ryan was dressed in his best clothes… he wore a leather jerkin over a black long-sleeved shirt… a mid-length brown cloak was draped from his thin frame… a large black floppy hat with a lone black feather plume sat atop his head… to finish his ensemble… a swept hilt Rapier and matching dagger hung from a fine leather Frog Hanger about his waist…

Ryan stood in the line and hardly noticed what was going on around him… he was lost in thought and nerves about what might be his first attempt at adventure… he vaguely remembers when someone bumped him as they left the Inn in a hurry… he snapped out of his reverie and turned back to the line and noticed that he was next in line…

When a young girl stepped out of the way… he stepped up and stood tall and tried to look confident … resting his left hand on the pommel of his Rapier he reached up and set his hat back just enough so it was out of his face as he addressed the man behind the desk…

“Greetings Sir!” Ryan said with hardly a tremor in his voice… sounding more confident in his choice to be here than he really was… “My name is Ryan Van Pelt… I am a swordsman… and I would like to assist in the slaying of whatever beast is responsible for these atrocities.”

Ryan gave a slight smile as he tried to quell the butterflies that threatened to devour him from the inside out… he had dreamed of this moment for the last couple of years… and now that it was here he didn’t understand why he was so nervous… but he wasn’t going to let a little unknown stop him from his dream… he believed he was meant for a better life than just growing wine grapes…

(Insert Gevon’s reply here)

“Thank you Sir!” Ryan said with a smile… “Your offer is acceptable… I wont let you down.”

(Will backpost later for any further reply necessary)

He moved aside … a big smile on his face… he was proud that he had been accepted… he was anxious to prove his worth and to make a name for himself… he had big dreams and this was the first step to achieving them.

Somehow Ryan’s Aunt and Uncle had found out about him joining the Monster Hunting Party as it was being called… he got home late last night and tried to sneak into his room to go to sleep and dream about tomorrow… but he had found them waiting up for him… they had argued for awhile… them telling him that he wasn’t going to be apart of hunting down Monsters… and him insisting that he was going to do this and that they couldn’t stop him… after all he was a man now… it had ended badly… his Uncle had said ‘that as long as he lived under his roof he wasn’t going…’ … he had replied that he was moving out then…

Ryan had packed up his things that night and left… much to the chagrin of his Aunt who begged him not to do this… but he was resolved… he would show them… he would do this and he would succeed…

He had gone over to Brian’s that night and had stayed in his barn… it was a fitful night… between the butterflies and the vexation from his family… but he had finally got to sleep early in the morning…


~The Next Day!~
Rising the next day he had gathered all of the things he was taking on this trek… basically all of his belongings… and with his backpack upon his back he set his hat atop his head and bid his friend a good day…

“Don’t you worry Brian..” Ryan said as he shook his friends hand.. “I will be alright.. I will show everyone that I am more than a simple farmer.”

Brian looked worried but he said nothing … he only nodded as his friend walked up the road and into town…

Ryan walked into town and went to the Inn and there he got small breakfast with his meager savings … finishing it he left and soon arrived at the edge of town where he was told to meet Geron and his group…

Arriving there he saw others… he knew some of the town regulars… he introduced himself to the others…

“Ryan Van Pelt..” he said removing his hat and giving a bow with a little flourish before straightening and setting his hat back in place…

When the word came to move out Ryan adjusted the straps on his backpack and making sure his Rapier and dagger were set in their hangers… he fell in with the others… trying to look like this wasn’t his first time doing something like this… but his face showed some of his nervousness …

“We will be starting our search here. Keep together, please, and try to make as little noise as possible.”

They entered the uneven forest ground. Moss comforted their feet, and if they looked out for twigs and fallen branches, keeping relatively quiet was easy. Searching a forest for a monster that you’ve only heard about was not.

An hour passed, and they had found no sign of the creature. They had seen two deer, which had been a pleasant surprise, but nothing out of the ordinary.

It was late afternoon when their effort was finally rewarded. A rabbit suddenly came running from a cluster of bushes and ran in wild terror between the party’s legs. But more sweeping of branches and crackle of leaves could be heard from the direction the rabbit had come from. The group halted, and then the bushes burst open and a creature the size of a goat jumped in their midst. It seemed equally surprised to see more than just the rabbit and backed off a bit to let out a low growl.

There was no doubt that this thing was beyond natural. It looked most like a wolf, but with the spots and long tail of a wild cat and the mane of a lion. Eyeing the party, the monster bared its teeth. But the skin around its mouth seemed too loose; it pulled back too far, showing pink gums and exposing even a part of the chin. Yellow eyes fiercely darted from one party member to another.

Geron was the first to recover from the surprise, and yelled: “Attack!”
When the creature had burst from the brush Ryan had jumped… he didn’t make a sound but he froze for a moment or two… his hand involuntarily rested on the pommel of his Rapier… when Geron yelled… he jerked his Rapier free of it’s scabbard… he snatched his Dagger out with the other hand… just in case… he had practiced many times trying to block or deflect swords with the dagger… but he wasn’t sure how he would accomplish that against this beast…

Seeing the others spring into action… Ryan found his courage… he pushed his nervousness deep down inside… hefting his light Rapier he gritted his teeth and leaped forward to the beast to engage it… this thing wasn’t his typical opponent but he was sure it could bleed just like a person…

As he sprung forth he yelled and brandished his dagger in his left hand holding it high… it was a feint… he hoped it would draw the creatures attention and maybe get it to raise it‘s arms to defend itself… if it did lift it’s arms even a bit… he would thrust with his Rapier aiming for a spot under the things armpit… where the heart usually was … well in human opponents… if the underarm target did not present itself then it would aim instead for it’s chest… towards the creatures left breast area…

After he struck… whether it hit or not… (round 2) he would dance back to try and draw his opponent to assault him… and hopefully draw it off balance where he would attempt a riposte… duck underneath it’s attack and lunge forth with his Rapier arm locked straight in hopes the creature would continue it’s advance and skewer itself upon his Rapier…

The Rapier was not a slashing weapon… it’s thin light blade was designed more for stabbing and poking in quick movements to vital sensitive areas… Ryan had practiced for years on where those areas were… he had also practiced his footwork… learning to dance around his opponents and avoid their counterattacks…. here was his chance to put that practice into action… and to prove that he was a formidable fighter… and perhaps even a hero… he had been nervous before… but now he was resolved… he would do his best … he would fight… he would not give up…

Spellbook:

Detect Magic
Acid Splash
Ray of Frost
Touch of Fatigue

True Strike
Color Spray
Ray of Enfeeblement

The next morning Glitch was ready to adventure. He had his wrench... and well that was about it. But that was all he needed besides his mind and his gadgets. Speaking of, his pet weasel Gadget was to accompany him on his mission. Gadget was a curious creature, but for now he remained in the front pocket of Glitch's apron, poking his head out ever so slightly to be able to see.

The small Brathun was a sight to be seen for sure, with his goggles on his head, about 30 leather straps and pockets adorning his tunic, and huge apron stained with various chemicals of questionable composition. He had a large thing that looked like a canteen, except it had more than one spout coming out of it, each with a different colored lid. The word “Alchemy” was scribed into it in Sylvari. Glitch's hair was a tangled mess of blond, dust, and ash, and his facial hair was equally unruly. Slung over his back was a very odd looking creation, which appeared to be a small barrel from a cannon... but handheld.

The weasel poked his head out from the largest pocket in the apron. “Today my friend, we do science!”

He hadn't realized there was a list posted of adventurers. He just showed up ready to experiment. So the others that came were definitely a rag-tag group. Traubin he knew quite well and wasn't surprised the Khord showed up looking for a fight. It's in their blood. Hopefully his fighting abilities were as good as his crafting ones. Another man had a trident and leathers. Glitch thought he remembered seeing him around the stables, but they never really talked. He liked this kid's style though, with the trident. Another man, Glitch saw him around town before. Snappy dresser. He had a sword. Very boring.

Deep down, Glitch knew he could improve the weapon if given the chance.

A Sylvari. Those guys creeped Glitch out. Always talking in rhymes and offering gold pieces to whomever could solve their riddles. Plus their music was just ghastly. Far too much percussion and not enough strings. Admittedly Glitch had only ever met one Sylvari before, but that was enough to spook him into avoiding them as much as possible.

That Loaven that always hung out with Helena was here too. Glitch and Helena had a long working relationship, as she was his primary supplier of alchemal and other ingredients. Half of his inventions wouldn't work without her herbs and petals and flowers. Glitch didn't really understand how a piece of wood could power a dweomer designed to improve crossbow accuracy, but it worked. And that's all that matters.

They ventured through the woods without much conversation. Aly pointed out some plants and herbs, most of which Glitch would kneel beside and sniff, and occasionally snapping his fingers and plucking it to add to his bag. It was nice to be eye-level with someone for a change. He stuck close by the Cid for the majority of the journey.

“This was where I was attacked,” Geron stated. “I suggest you keep your weapons at a ready. I lost my longsword in the fight, so keep an eye out for it, please.”

Their prey would eventually make itself visible by a small rabbit it was chasing. Gadget was obviously uneasy, as he must have sensed the fear from the bunny.

The strange cat-lion-wolf thing! Finally! Glitch couldn't wait to study this thing. But first they had to kill it. He grabbed the small hand cannon from his back, holding it in one hand and his wrench in the other. “Let's do this...”

Fortunately the others seemed more than well-enough equipped, and he didn't want to accidentally hit his fellow hunters. So he would spend this time studying it. He pulled down his goggles and gazed intently at it, as if in a trance.

Round 1: Detect Magic.

Round 2: he will continue to concentrate and study further, as long as the first round doesn't go extremely poorly.

Thanks to YeOlde for the link idea

“Attack!!” Geron yelled, and drew his dagger. He took a fast step towards the beast but immediately grunted in pain and grabbed his back. Trying to bite back the pain he took a flittering breath to regain his focus, and saw how the others faired against the creature.

But before any of them could make a move, the monstrous mammal opened its jaw wider than it should’ve been able too, and let out a loud screech. It ducked lower to the ground and took a half-step back in a defensive stance. The skin on its head rippled as if the muscles underneath had a life of their own, and the creature’s eyes seemed to sink in its sockets. It stared at them, as if the rippling display would trigger some kind of effect that didn’t happen.

Then Jethro was on top of it with his trident. The young fighter stabbed at it, but the creature was fast in darting aside and his aim missed precision.

Glitch had taken that moment to peer at the monster through his goggles. He was searching for traces of magic, but found none. The creature was fascinating though, in its build as well as in its behaviour. So far, it hadn’t attacked, and now seemed rather confused. Interesting…

Ryan saw Jethro rush into battle, and couldn’t stay behind. This was what he had wanted all along, wasn’t it?
He sprung forward, thrusting his dagger high, as an attempted feint, but realized quickly that this monster lacked intelligence, experience or both and didn’t understand the movement. Therefore he thrust his rapier at the creature’s chest, and found it piercing skin and flesh. The monster yelped in pain and drew further back.
(A real feint in D&D costs a standard action, so if you really want to attempt a feint tactically, you’ll need the improved feint feat for it to be of any help to a low level character).

Alyannah had overcome her initial shock as well, and was now building momentum with her sling. The weapon felt comfortably familiar in her grasp, making it easier to target the abomination to nature. With a soft whir, she projected the stone. It whooshed through the air and struck the creature right between the eyes. It gave a slight twitch with its head, made a high pitched yap, and fell dead to the forest floor.

The group approached the monster cautiously. It was a strange sight to behold, the creature with its ferocious appearance lying suddenly still and lifeless on the moss, mouth opened and tongue hanging out. Silence settled around them again, their breathing heavy and adrenaline still pumping. The monster was slain, but with far less effort than they could have imagined. Something seemed wrong.

Then Geron spoke. He had paced softly towards the creature and now stood gazing down on it.
“That’s not the monster that attacked me.” He groaned again as he shifted his body. “It looks the same, but it’s too small.”

Of all of them, Alyannah made the connection first. She had been roaming the woods and observing animals with Helena for too long not to see the signs now. With the creature unmoving, she could make a connection with what she had learned about regular mammals. This monster was just a pup. Not all its features were fully developed. Claws hadn’t completely hardened, it was obviously teething, and its hide was too fluffy to have been exposed to the exterior of the woods for too long.

But if this was just the juvenile version…

(OOC: Sorry for those who didn’t get any action. The monster was killed before your initiative. But the question is: what to do now. There is obviously something out there still, though you don’t see any trace of it yet.)

Ryan was surprised when the creature drew back and then a stone sailed past him and struck it in the head and the beast went down… he took a step back and turned his head to look at the others…

“That was…. Easy,” he said questioningly… “too easy perhaps?”

He knew he had struck the creature but he expected it to take more than a couple of blows to down it… he approached the beast with the others .. Seeing what looked like a dead thing he poked it again slowly and got no reaction…

“Yep… dead.”

“That’s not the monster that attacked me.” Geron groaned again as he shifted his body. “It looks the same, but it’s too small.”
“But… that has to be it!” Ryan said… “It attacked us and look at that thing… it is repulsive… it has to be the beast”

(Assuming Alyannah speaks of it being a adolescent)

“What?” Ryan asked looking at the creature.. “so … there is probably a larger version out there somewhere?”

He began to look around them as if expecting the creature to spring from the brush at them… he turned finally to look at Geron and asked…

“So… you think the other is around here? If it is… it probably heard this one screeching!”

He kept an eye on the surrounding… his weapons still in his hands… turning slowly in place.