Completed Play-by-Post: In Search of the Sorcerer

[Siveon]

Spoiler

I'm pretty sure Marcán is in no hurry to confront the witch at the moment. I say proceed.

"Blasted Rashid, what could he possibly gain by betraying us? We might be facing more than we bargained for, be prepared."

 

[Grimgravy]

Rhenmyr scans the two horsemen with the mirror while Brule makes his challenge.

Spoiler

Otherwise no problem with proceeding to the gate.

 

[L'ennui]

"That cursed son of a whore Rashid, he ought to be quartered! Nay, that's too gentle for his kind, he should be put to the boats! To think we had him in our sights and let him slink away unharmed. Oh!"

Urash follows his comrades, looking weary and stressed.

 

[nikolokolus]

Rhenmyr holds the mirror up the two galloping figures and notices nothing untoward.

 

[Grimgravy]

"Those two are human. So far so good. I'll keep checking and point out any wolves in men's skin."

 

[nikolokolus]

A brisk, tense walk deposits you at the causeway that leads to the village gates, where a large murmuring crowd has started to assemble; most faces look nervous and pensive. The guards bristle slightly but don't seem sure what to do and do not appear inclined to bar your way.

 

[Grimgravy]

Rhenmyr surreptitiously scans the crowd with the mirror and notes any discrepancies.

 

[Wayward Son]

Mab attempts to look in control when he sees the size of the crowd.

 

[nikolokolus]

Rhenmyr surreptitiously lifts the mirror up to arms length and does a quick scan of the crowd. All in the crowd appear as they should . . . or at least as it is (full of on-edge folk, fidgeting and speaking in hushed tones).

Brule stands stoically just outside the gate with the spear held at his side and a deep scowl etched on his features. He barks at the guards, "I demand Talorc come and give an account of himself. A Drune comes to judge him for his crimes against the gods. I Brule ap Bruna reject his kingship and his decrees and ask that the elders allow me to plead my case."

Moments pass. Four heavily armored men in mail, with drawn swords can be seen walking across the town square toward the gate. Behind them is a smallish-furtive man in a raven-feather cloak, bearing an ornately carved staff - Talorc's advisor Syelle Ru. He motions the men forward with his staff. "Seize the criminal!" He levels his imperious gaze and sneers at Brule, "You dare show your face here? You are marked for death traitor and your time has come!"

 

[Wayward Son]

Mab quickly surveys the situation. "I, Mab Ystsfnig, am a representative of High Drune Maelgwyn. You will speak and be spoken to. So, go! Defend thyself of his accusations in front of the High Elders of the village!" He whispers to Rhenmyr, "Use that damn mirror to scan him."

 

[Grimgravy]

Rhenmyr scans the armed men and Syelle Ru with the mirror as well.

 

[nikolokolus]

Rhenmyr's suspicions are confirmed. Syelle Ru and the four personal bodyguards of Talorc, take on a wolfish and wolf-headed aspect when viewed through the mirror.

Syelle Ru interjects, "These vagabonds are anathema! They have no standing here. Seize them!" The four armed men start to stride forward.

Suddenly an older man - large-boned, his hair and beard a shock of white, steps forward and blocks the four warriors and holds up his hand. They pull up uncertainly and look back to Syelle Ru for reassurance. "Silence Syelle! You overstep your authority. First we will hear this man who calls himself Drune and see if he speaks true or false." He turns and levels a stern and unrelenting gaze on Mab. "I'm Gorma ap Tóla, Chief Elder of this village. You say you speak for Maelgwyn but we don't know your face. Do you have some proof of your claims?"

 

[Grimgravy]

Rhenmyr quietly passes the word of the five wolfmen to the group.

 

[Wayward Son]

"I have proof of my claim to my place in the world." He reaches into his cloak and produces the sprig of mistletoe that all Initiate Drunes carry. "See this and hear our case, I implore you, o Grand Elder."

 

[nikolokolus]

The man called Gorma raises an eyebrow, "That doesn't prove a thing boy."

 

[Wayward Son]

Mab smiles and raises his hand, letting loose a torrent of words in the Druidic tongue that amount to "Ah, I see you are smarter and wiser than most. They would have accepted the mistletoe without question of its origin. My apologies for the insult upon you, o Grand Elder. Will you now here our case?"

 

[nikolokolus]

Gorma squints at the torrent of words flowing from Mab's mouth, and ruefully shakes his head when he finishes, "I have'nae a clue what you just said lad, but there cannae be any denyin' how you said it. That's Auld Drunic for sure. I 'eard Eogan gie his litany more times than I care to count." He turns a scornful glance at a very uncertain Syelle. "Ye 'eard him dinya? Scamper along cur and fetch the king!"

Syelle's face goes beet red and his teeth are bared in a nearly feral rictus, "Enough of your nonsense you old fool! You can't talk to me like this. Do you hear me!" He practically shrieks, "You're all going to pay for this!"

To everyone's great shock, just inside the gate, Syelle Ru slumps to the ground on all fours and his body is wracked with great heaving spasms. Bones audibly snap and pop, his arms and legs lengthen and suddenly grown fur and transmogrify into talon and claw. His raven-feather cloak twists and stretches and falls from his now muscular, furry and hunched form. He glares up at the transfixed crowd as people begin to panic - women screaming, children crying and men gasping in horror. All but the bravest or most foolish begin to flee where ever they can.

Spoiler

The four bodyguards form up ranks in front of the gate with their spears levelled at the terrified crowd of onlookers and seem to dare anyone to approach.

Syelle Ru begins to chant in a strange sibilant tongue. Urash recognizes the warp and weft in the air as arcane magics are manipulated.

Roll Initiative.

Syell Ru and bodyguards' initiative: 5

 

[nikolokolus]

For reference:

 

[Wayward Son]

1d6 Initiative=2

Spoiler

So... Do we fit under brave or foolish?

Mab hangs back a second, the suddenness of the transformation catching him off guard. He then raises his spear and says wearily, "Oh bloody hells. Another Wolf." He turns to the others and says to Marcàn, " Well, second verse, same as the first, eh my friend?"

 

[Siveon]

Initiative: [1d6] = 1

Marcán remains firm, weapon drawn, and begins to chant a translated verse of a village epic.

 

[L'ennui]

"Oh, by the seven lions of Ur, not this again..."

[1d6] = 5

 

[Grimgravy]

Spoiler

I'll roll when I get home. But first, a question. Would anyone/anything but the baddies be in the blast radius of my Atalantian fire vial?

edit
Initiative [1d6+1] = 2+1 = 3

 

[nikolokolus]

Spoiler

I'll roll when I get home. But first, a question. Would anyone/anything but the baddies be in the blast radius of my Atalantian fire vial?

edit
Initiative [1d6+1] = 2+1 = 3

Spoiler

you have no idea how big of a blast breaking the vial would create. Koren didn't specify. Of course, you could always throw past them through the gate if you want to err on the side of caution.

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

Cormac pulls his dagger and readies his shield. "I cannot curry and favor with Arawn currently, but maybe his dagger will see me through this fight."

Initiative: [1d6] = 2

 

[nikolokolus]

Brule and the Townsfolk initiative: [1d6] = 5