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[BlackPaladin99]

I go after Gruuleye

[Strif3]

Name	:	Erys
Description	:	A mysterious young woman whose appearance and face are covered by the black, hooded cloak she wears—save for a single golden lock of hair visible from underneath the hood. Claiming to be a travelling scholar, a foreboding aura lingers around her.
Class	:	Necromancer/Dark Arcanist

[Egan_BW]

imagine being a magic user

[King Zultan]

"Aw crap."
Prepare myself for a fight because as soon as they make a move for me I shall attack because I'm not going to jail again!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name:Urist
Description: A short man wearing plate armour, welding an axe, all you can see of his face is his massive beard sticking out the bottom of his helmet.

[Strif3]

imagine being a magic user

imagine being a thief

[Horizon]

imagine being a magic user

imagine being a thief

Imagine not having a 50 gold bounty on your head

[Rethi-Eli]

imagine being a magic user

imagine being a thief

Imagine not having a 50 gold bounty on your head

Imagine not having 30 gold in your pocket

[King Zultan]

imagine being a magic user

imagine being a thief

Imagine not having a 50 gold bounty on your head

Imagine not having 30 gold in your pocket

Imagine being in the wrong place at the wrong time

[MeimieFan88]

Turn 2

Make no sudden moves, regard the Captain with emotionless eyes and do not comply with his demands simply stand silently waiting for the right opportunity to attack. If none comes well then I shall simply butcher them all and hold the Captain hostage against his men.

[1d6: 4]

The captain and his men watch you with gritted teeth and readied spears, expecting some kind of response, but none comes. It grows so silent that the subtle metallic trembling of the soldiers' weapons can be heard. And as the tension culminates to a peak, it is suddenly broken by the voice of a woman calling from the gates: "What are you waiting for? Do you expect the Blackguard to surrender to you?" And with that, the battle breaks loose, as the captain growls and lunges forward at you with his polearm. But you are completely ready, sidestepping the spearpoint before countering with your bastard sword, striking his armor and knocking him away. His men are quick to join the fray, but their attacks fail to land anything but a glancing clang against your thick black armor. Two brutal counter-swings from you cut deep into flesh, and their formation is broken, with one of them already bleeding out on the ground. Another slash and a thrust, and two more soldiers fall. The captain charges at you again, but you dodge to the side, this time grabbing his pikestaff, before maneuvering around behind him and getting him into a headlock using his own weapon.

The remaining soldiers, who were enjoying the upper hand against the bearded man whom they had mistaken as being an accomplice of yours, are demoralized upon seeing the devastation you have wreaked, especially as their leader struggles in your grip. With you stepping toward them, pushing your hostage along, they have no choice but to slowly back away towards the gate, haplessly motioning their weapons at you and making feeble threats and demands at you to release their captain.

[Relations with Town of Cresthaven decreased (-5) from 0 to -5]
[Relations with Visimar Council decreased (-1) from -15 to -16]

"I am most happy that you enjoy the fruits of my labor, Lord Chancellor, but I do not brew in bulk. Each cask is a delicate, soulful thing, each foamy mug a work of art. I must decline your offer. May I sit with you, perhaps? I cannot help but notice that you have many nobles among your number, yet I see no representatives of the clergy, and - though humility is a virtue and pride a sin - I must say that I make better company than any of the stuffy deacons and cardinals who you courtly folk are used to."

Let's see if the Chancellor is open to my company. There is much to be learned at this one's side, even in idle conversation.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Pandolfo Alessio, God-fearing Gourmand
Description: A portly, red-faced cleric with a wry smile and a great appreciation for theology, food, and drink. His brown, coarse monk's habit conceals a maille shirt and a thick-hafted mace at his belt.
Inventory
Mace
Monk's Attire
Maille Shirt
30 Gold Pieces

[1d6: 6]

While the Chancellor is a tad disappointed by your decline of his offer, your talk of the clergy has him avidly enthused, perhaps even more so than before. "Stuffy deacons! HA! I must admit I know a good dozen or two of those! Righteous prigs, the lot of them! And not one knows the first thing about good drink!" His men are laughing along, and their shared distaste of the current religious ordination of the Council is clear. The Chancellor goes on to mention that they are in fact looking for someone to fill the position of the Council's High Minister, whose duties range from organizing religious events to managing public relations pertaining to the clergy… and he has decided, immovably, that you are the man for the job! In fact, he is refusing to take no for an answer this time, asserting that you are to become the Council's new High Minister, after the last one was apparently brutally assassinated by an elusive hitman known as Severis the Faint - a fact that the Chancellor’s slight drunkenness has caused him to inadvertently reveal to you. He assures you to have no fear though, as your newly appointed security will make sure that you are safe at all times (and that the fate of your predecessor will absolutely definitely probably not befall you). In any case, he informs you that you are to be ceremonially inaugurated in the capital city of Etelgarde as soon as possible. It seems that, whether or not you are willing, you've been forcibly appointed as a highly important and precarious religious figure in the upper echelons of the regional power structure.

Meanwhile, there sounds to be a bit of commotion outside, though it’s largely drowned out by the revelry going on inside the tavern.

[Relations with Visimar Council increased (+5) from 1 to 6]

Matilda squints at the parchment, furrowing her brow in what may look to some an indicator of deep thought, before tearing off the bounty for Laak'thar Gruuleye and making her way towards the town gates.

[1d6: 3]

As you are tearing off the bounty for Laak'thar Gruuleye, a very short, wiry man seems to be highly interested in the same bounty, hopping on his tiptoes trying to get a better look of the paper in your hands. However moments later he is gone, perhaps off on the quest by himself. You take a look at the bounty, which contains general information about the target, including a rough but menacing sketch of the ogre's brutish mug. You then proceed towards the town gates, where the commotion has broken into a bloody, all-out battle. Several soldiers lay dead and dying on the ground, and a huge man in black armor - recognizable from the bounty board as Cryd the Blackguard - has taken the guard captain hostage, advancing on the remaining soldiers with a short, bearded man who seems to be his accomplice. Meanwhile nearby townspeople are running for their lives, and with all the guards being out of commission, some thugs can be seen dragging someone into a nearby alley, taking advantage of the chaos devolving all about the area.

Off the distance, you suddenly notice a vague shadowy figure dressed in a cloak, slowly approaching you. You can't quite make out any of their features, no thanks to your affected vision, but surely they are closing in, their footsteps pounding almost like earthquakes, or maybe it's just the visceral beating of your heart.

Oh, shit.

Wasn't I supposed to meet some goon for a political subterfuge of some sort? My mind is clouded, I can't remember the details.

Quickly conceal the vial of sugar and walk up to greet him. Maybe if I ask him to identify himself first I can bluff myself through this.

[1d6: 2]

You quickly pocket the vial of sugar, glancing down momentarily, before walking towards the figure to greet them. But in that brief moment of looking away, the cloaked figure has vanished completely from the road, and from your sights. Confused, you turn and look all around, scanning the snow-blinding fields for any clue of the shadow's existence, but none are to be found. It is as if you had imagined them entirely. Of course, hallucinating is far from unheard-of after taking Moon Sugar, but that figure certainly felt very real…

Scoran examines the wanted posters for a little bit, but hearing the commotion at the gates she walks that way.

"What are you waiting for? Do you expect the Blackguard to surrender to you?"

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Scoran
Description: A wiry young woman with yellow eyes and blazing red hair in a braid. Armored in a conical helmet and mail shirt, both of which along with a spear and shield were loosely inherited from a fresh corpse.

[1d6: 1]

You spot the guards outside the gates surrounding the Blackguard and his apparent bearded ally, calling out to the hesitant authorities with your words of sense which proceed to set the battle into motion. But then suddenly, someone grabs you from behind and wrests you into a nearby alley. Shoved to the ground, you are soon cornered by several ruffians wearing bandana masks. Their daggers twirl in their hands as they glare at you with malevolence, encroaching closer. "Looks like all the guards are distracted. Nobody's left to tend to you, hehe…" one of the thugs points his dagger at you, a musing look in his eyes. "Better hand over everything you have now! If it's worth something, maybe we'll even let you live…"

I go after Gruuleye

[1d6: 1]

Studying the bounty for Laak'thar Gruuleye, you get just enough information before a large middle-aged woman with a huge woodcutter's axe tears the bounty off, examining it for herself. You get a few more peeks of it, and then you're off on your way to hunt down your target. At the gates of town, a bloody battle seems to be underway, with dead and dying soldiers on the ground cut down by a huge man in black armor, recognizable as Cryd the Blackguard from the bounty board. You are able to sneak past the gates however, avoiding the bloody engagement, as you begin heading down the southern road.

Journeying towards the hills southward, the trek is long and harsh, and soon a snowstorm begins to blow down on you, obscuring the roads and making travel increasingly difficult. To make things worse, you soon find that you've gone off the main path, and are now lost in a desolate field of blinding paleness with nothing familiar to cling to. Meanwhile, the blizzard rages on, pelting down on you mercilessly, worsening by the moment.

"Aw crap."
Prepare myself for a fight because as soon as they make a move for me I shall attack because I'm not going to jail again!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name:Urist
Description: A short man wearing plate armour, welding an axe, all you can see of his face is his massive beard sticking out the bottom of his helmet.

[1d6: 2]

You prepare yourself for a fight against the rallying guards surrounding both you and the huge man in front of you. There is a tense stretch of silence, before it is suddenly broken by a voice calling out from the gates: "What are you waiting for? Do you expect the Blackguard to surrender to you?" And with that, the battle breaks loose, as the guard captain growls and lunges forward at the man in black armor. The soldiers soon follow suit, and the few that were focused on you begin thrusting their spears towards you. Readily you deflect their jabs with your axe, the clang of steel ringing in the air. You make a counter-swing with your weapon, but the guards dodge backwards, the range of their polearms giving them a distinct advantage along with the fact that you are surrounded and outnumbered. It is a grueling fight of attrition, but slowly you find yourself losing ground, barely able to keep the barrage of spear-points at bay, much less launch any effective attacks of your own.

However, just as the guards think that they’ve won, they turn to see that on the other front, the ebon-armored hulk has already slain several of their number, even managing to take their captain hostage in a chokehold with his own spear. Demoralized, they are forced to turn their attention towards the menace, allowing you a bit of breathing room, as they begin backing away towards the gate, haplessly waving their weapons at the Blackguard and making feeble threats and demands at him to release their captain. Meanwhile behind the town gates, passersby witnessing the savagery are running for their lives, sure to spread your involvement in aiding the Butcher of the North in his latest carnage.

[Relations with Visimar Council decreased (-1) from 0 to -1]
[Relations with Town of Cresthaven decreased (-1) from 0 to -1]

Name	:	Erys
Description	:	A mysterious young woman whose appearance and face are covered by the black, hooded cloak she wears—save for a single golden lock of hair visible from underneath the hood. Claiming to be a travelling scholar, a foreboding aura lingers around her.
Class	:	Necromancer/Dark Arcanist

You are in the town of Cresthaven, a modest settlement at the edge of a dark boreal forest. The town seems busier than usual, with a group of nobles from the prestigious Visimar Council visiting, mingling and lavishing boisterously in the tavern. In the town square are a number of quieter businesses including a blacksmith, a carpenter, a leatherworker, and an herbalist. A board of bounties has been recently updated with the Council's seal, presenting a number of potentially lucrative opportunities for the daring adventurer, including the following jobs:

   * WANTED: Skulltusk. A dreadboar known to plague the northwestern forests around Cresthaven. Bounty: 10 gold pieces.
   * WANTED: Pylea the Cunning. A female rogue wanted for theft, blackmail, fraud, and murder. Bounty: 15 gold pieces.
   * WANTED: Cryd the Blackguard. A hulking butcher wanted for a large number of crimes including mass murder. Bounty: 50 gold pieces.
   * WANTED: Devilin Nightbane. Leader of a gang of bandits hiding out somewhere in town. Wanted for theft, blackmail, and orchestrated murder. Bounty: 25 gold pieces.
   * WANTED: The Bleeder. A serial killer whose method of killing involves bleeding their victims dry. Bounty: 20 gold pieces.
   * WANTED: Severis the Faint. An assassin wanted for murder, including that of several prominent figures. Bounty: 80 gold pieces.
   * WANTED: Frost Gorgon. A creature with the upper body of a female humanoid and the lower body of a serpent. Known to prey on hunters in the northeastern forest regions. Bounty: 30 gold pieces.
   * MISSING: Fredegar Colias. A boy of 12, last seen in the town square. Reward for safe return: 10 gold pieces.


Meanwhile, there seems to be violent commotion at the town's gates, as a bloody battle has erupted between the guards and a huge man in black armor - recognizable as Cryd the Blackguard from the bounty board. Several guards already lie dead and dying on the ground, with the guard captain struggling in the hulking man’s grasp. A short bearded man appears to be the Blackguard’s accomplice, having helped battle the guards while he made short work of the others. Chaos devolves all about the gates, as nearby townspeople are running for their lives, and thieves can be seen dragging someone to a nearby alleyway, taking advantage of the lawlessness.


(Playing around a bit with this ‘Relations’ mechanic, kinda iffy about the numerical part of it but it's supposed to represent faction reputation)

[King Zultan]

Keep fighting if I'm still being attacked, if not sheath the axe and grab a spear from one of the dead guards and help keep the others from stabbing the man they're fighting and help push them back to the gate.

[Strif3]

thieves can be seen dragging someone to a nearby alleyway, taking advantage of the lawlessness.

"I doubt anyone would miss them, were they to disappear..."

I approach the thieves from behind with a conjured bone dagger in hand.

Spoiler: Erys (click to show/hide)

Name	:	Erys
Description	:	A mysterious young woman whose appearance and face are covered by the black, hooded cloak she wears—save for a single golden lock of hair visible from underneath the hood. Claiming to be a travelling scholar, a foreboding aura lingers around her.
Class	:	Necromancer/Dark Arcanist

[Quarque]

((outgame: anyone want to form a party? Those quests all sound like too much for a single character))

Shake it off as a hallucination, but do check my wallet. Continue my trip to town.

[Strif3]

((I'm partial to letting stuff happen organically.))

[Horizon]

((This has devolved rather quickly. Go figure I chose to lean into the dark aspect of this game.))

"If you value yours and your captains pathetic lives, YOU will drop YOUR weapons..Or I will snap this man's neck." Cryd pushs the pikestaff tighter against the captive captains throat "Flee like the pathetic dogs you are, and spread the word of the Butcher far and wide." with a free hand Cryd takes one of the captains arms and twists it.

Snapping the poor mans arm, and further intimidating the guards. If they aren't swayed or an agressive act is made against Cryd then the Captain will die by the Blackguard's hands.

((Ah yes also, apply for the purely honorary role of BBEG. Though not yet with the full package, I need to fill the quota to earn the perks ya know? Doth that soundeth fair Meimie?))

[Egan_BW]

Scoran holds her spear at its middle point, as if ready to hurl it into the bandit's chest.
"I hold nothing you couldn't honestly scavenge from any battlefield. Nothing worth dying for. Now run along, you won't keep me from my mark."