[PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: National Acrobat on 20-12-2016, 22:24:05</h2>
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				Title: <strong>[PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>National Acrobat</strong> on <strong>20-12-2016, 22:24:05</strong>
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				Havenhill, a small fortified town in the foothills of the Lortmill Mountains, forms the backdrop for an unorthodox meeting. The foothills are at the juncture of the Suss Forest, where Celene, The Principality of Ulek and the Pomarj meet. The space between them is sort of a no-man's land, a border that is understood, and uneasily watched by the Elves of Celene, the forces of Ulek, and the humanoids and evil humans of the Pomarj. <br><br>(http://www.whenthesungrowscold.com/Gallery/_data/i/upload/2016/02/20/20160220124203-a6eb2b5d-me.png)<br><br>For months, raids have been occurring on the north and southern coasts of the Pomarj, along the borders of Greyhawk City, and Ulek and Keoland as well. Slavers for sure, those raiding have made no secret of their intent, and they are vicious, and well organized. <br><br>Havenhill has been safe, due to the proximity of the Suss Forest, and by the fact that over half the small town's population are dwarves, and there is a fairly important mine nearby, which means a garrison of dwarven warriors is assigned to the town by the ruling Prince. The Elves of Celene also frequent the town, so it is a lot safer than many of the other villages and towns in the reigion.<br><br>The reign of terror is to be no more. The rulers of the Ulek States, as well as Queen Yolande of Celene, King Scotti of Keoland and the Lord Mayor of Greyhawk have all issued bounties for the removal of this scourge.<br><br>Prince Olinstaad Corond of Ulek has hosted an unusual meeting at a small temple of Pelor in Havenhill.<br><br>This is where Tharalf, Yrsa, Corso and Lamora Drach find themselves. When they enter the small church, there are already two others, a green skinned wood elven woman, wearing a light sundress and barefoot, and a human man, wearing studded leather armor, with a holy symbol of Pelor around his neck. He does not look like a priest, nor a warrior of the faith. He is only armed with a shortblade and an elven curved knife.<br><br>Also present is the friar of the small temple, an aging human man with a warm smile, and peaceful demeanor. Father Stirrech, whom you had all been advised to seek out by the various agencies and forces that you represent, whether it be for lord or lady, faith, or the pursuit of coin.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>EndofDivine</strong> on <strong>21-12-2016, 04:55:26</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(https://db4sgowjqfwig.cloudfront.net/campaigns/14025/assets/670069/dark-horror-face-eyes-cg-digital-art-gothic-wallpaper-1.jpg?1480561693)</div><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><strong><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Lamora Drach</span></strong></span> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1021844)<br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">Human Gravewalker Witch</span></span><br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">AC: 12 HP: 36/36 Init: +6</span></span><br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">Fort: +3 Ref: +3 Will: +4</span></span><br><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font">Spells: <em>1st</em> 5/5 <em>2nd</em> 3/3</span></span><br><hr><br>Lamora's hands clung tightly to the edges of her dull, gray cloak, tugging at the fabric until it strained against her shoulders. Her head was bowed, only a sliver of daylight making it through the small opening in her cloak that she desperately fought to keep as narrow as possible. She was hiding. Not that her odd behavior did her any favors in that regard but at least they couldn't see her face; that's all she wanted right now. Let those that gawked at the strange woman who hurried through the streets all bundled up like it was winter think what they wanted of her. It was better than having them stare at her because she was the witch that lived on the edge of the town, that pitiful creature deserving of all the suspicious glances they could muster. Lamora couldn't bear to be that person right now. All she wanted was this month's groceries.<br><br>It went well enough; the jingling of pilfered slaver money slowly faded throughout the day to be replaced by filled bags that hung from her arms. Just one last store and she could return home, putting the anxiety of being in public behind her for at least another month. But as her hand reached out to push the door aside, something stopped her. A poster. It would seem that the slavers had made themselves another enemy, this time one with pockets much deeper than her own if the number written across the bottom was anything to go by. Lamora shrugged to herself and moved to return to the business that had brought her into town. It wasn't her problem anymore. <br><br><strong>"We are not done."</strong> Lamora's entire body froze mid step, her blue eyes wide with panic. Her head instinctively jerked to the left, searching for the source of the voice that couldn't have possibly been more than a few feet away. But where she expected to see some stranger peering over her shoulder, she saw only barren street. Again she turned, spinning to the right in a manner that was almost frantic, hoping beyond hope that someone awaited her there. Nothing. But how? She could have sworn...Lamora's mind blanked as realization dawned on her face. It was a realization that brought only the soul crushing look of absolute despondency to her face, a forlorn look usually saved for those condemned to walk the gallows or some other equally gruesome fate. <br><br>"No, no, no, no," Lamora muttered to herself, each repetition of the word flying from her lips faster and with increasing alarm. She fell to her knees and let the bags draped over her shoulder slide to the ground. Like a madwoman she clawed through each of them, tossing food and various sundries about the street with little care given to where they ended up. All the while she whispered aloud, letting the beginning of her thoughts float through the air but never finishing a single one. "It can't..." "But I..." "I know it's..."<br><br>The whirlwind of action she had become came to a screeching halt as she reached the bottom of her third sack. Her breath came out in a trembling sob, her lungs suddenly stricken incapable of breathing with any kind of regularity. There it was - staring back at her with its lifeless button eyes. Never before had she thought something as inane as a button could hold so much malice and invoke so much fear. She was certain she hadn't packed it. Why would she? This was the one time she got away from it - felt its strangling grasp loosen from her throat. But there it was: the doll she had crafted in a haze of madness, the burlap monstrosity packed with her husband's ashes. Her hands were shaking now and her bottom lip quivered as she choked out a single word of disbelief. "How...?" <br><br>Her cloak had fallen away from her face during her crazed digging and now dozens of eyes watched her, whispering just loud enough for their words to reach her ears. "It's the witch. Best to stay a good distance away. No telling what she'll do." That didn't matter anymore, though. Her eyes were transfixed on the doll sitting up limply inside her pack, unable to turn away no matter how much she wanted to. <strong>"We. Are. Not. Done."</strong> Lamora reflexively jerked backward at its thunderous and demanding voice, too lost in fear to consider what other sinister meanings those words carried. She was too far gone now for there to be any other conclusion to this event other than the most obvious one; she never could resist him. Her hand balling up in the dirt was the only act of defiance she could muster as her head sank between her shoulders in defeat and tears began streaming down her cheeks. Like a mindless drone, she echoed the words of her master there in street for all to hear. "We are not done."<br><br>***<br><br>That is how Lamora came to be where she was today, standing in a chapel of Pelor, nestled in the corner with arms crossed and that same featureless gray cloak from the market hanging heavily across her shoulders. She liked it here. There was something comforting about it, like the dark force that followed her couldn't find her in here. It was still around though, she could feel it peering in through the windows at her, breathing heavy against the glass. Occasionally the young woman jumped as if startled and turned her attention to the nearest window, eyeing it intently as if judging its sturdiness. It wanted in but all it could do was thrash about to let its displeasure be known. Seeking to take have her mind focused elsewhere, Lamora stepped away from the wall and approached Father Stirrech with a question. "So when do we get started?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: [PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dormouse</strong> on <strong>22-12-2016, 06:30:08</strong>
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				A warhorse trotted at a steady pace towards the town. His rider had her eyes closed, face lifted to the sunlight. Servants of Pelor did not shade their eyes against the sun; that would be a denial of the glory of their god. Closing the eyes was permissible, though. Mortals could only endure so much brightness at a time.<br><br>Horse and rider passed through the gates of Havenhill, the latter asking directions until they arrived at the temple to her god. She left her horse in the care of the hostler, and proceeded inside. She paused just inside the doorway, allowing time for her eyes to adjust to the softer light inside.<br><br><em>Those who walk always in light cannot see into shade.</em> A thought near to her heart. Too many of her order preferred to preach at their temples and churches, to tend to their flock instead of watching for wolves. Betimes, one must venture into shade or even into darkness. And where others feared to tread, Yrsa did not.<br><br>Battle-scarred and battle-worn, her half-plate armor scratched and nicked by countless skirmishes, she bowed her head in greeting to the others. “Pardon, but are you Father Stirrech?” she said to the older man. “I am Yrsa Gravedigger and I bear a letter to you from the head of my church.” A gloved hand proffered him the sealed letter.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>National Acrobat</strong> on <strong>22-12-2016, 14:55:18</strong>
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				'Welcome' Father Stirrech said to Lamora and he smiled. 'We start when the others arrive. There should be a few more of you' he said, and just as he was about to say something else, Yrsa entered, and offered a letter to him. 'I am child, I am. Be welcome. It seems our faith has provided more than one on this day' he said, looking from her to Anton.<br><br>'Please be seated. While we await the others, allow me to introduce Anton, a member of the Pelorian Faith, with a different set of skills than most clergy are used to seeing in action, and Viera, representative of the Highfolk Elves' and with that he motioned to the pair.<br><br>The green-skinned elven woman stood and inclined her head. She truly was a child of the woods, and looked very uncomfortable indoors. She wore nothing but a light sundress, and carried a satchel. She had no weapons, shoes or any other items on her person. Greetings, I am Viera, and as the goodly father has stated, I represent the olven folk of Highfolk, olven and half-olven, since the Fey Queen didn't see fit to send a representative to assist, the Sylvan Council of Highfolk and the Vesve Forest felt it proper and right to assist, and I am most happy to make your acquaintance. Her common was spoken with a thick elven accent, indicating that she was not terrible familiar with, or used to using, the common tongue.<br><br>Anton rose, and bowed. I am Anton LaVella. I am here on behalf of the Church of Pelor. I am a troubleshooter for the Church, but more importantly, the information that we have, leads to what used to be a Temple of our Faith, and it happens to be the temple that I studied at when an acolyte. It was the only temple of our faith in the Pomarj. I will expand more upon that when the others arrive, but my main function is to guide you, and provide information. You wouldn't know it from looking at me, but I am also a scholarly monk, that is my background, among other things.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grizzly</strong> on <strong>22-12-2016, 22:48:21</strong>
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				Corso looked impassively at the remains of the wine in the bottle that he had been holding.&nbsp; The bottle had the inevitability of a timer, for when the last of the wine was gone, Corso knew that he had to leave for the meeting.&nbsp; At least that was what he had told himself.&nbsp; This was his second bottle of wine.&nbsp; <br><br>He poured some of the wine into a glass and sloshed it around.&nbsp; It wasn't a bad wine for the price and the region and it served it's purpose.&nbsp; He took a deep gulp of the wine and then refilled the glass.&nbsp; Perhaps it was for the best.&nbsp; He had come to Havenhill a few days early hoping to find some entertainment before setting out on this new quest, only the entertainment had been lacking.&nbsp; The wine and ale had been okay but drinking alone was never fun and the women in the town were...well he had found his luck lacking in that department.&nbsp; All that remained was to finish the bottle and head to the church.&nbsp; Two more glasses later and that goal had been reached.<br><br>Corso entered the church.&nbsp; Hopefully this quest would erase the drudgery of the last few days and provide a little more excitement than the tavern had.&nbsp; As his eyes swept the room, he felt that this might be true.&nbsp; His gaze fell first upon the women in the church.&nbsp; There were 2 human, one in battle worn armour, and one Elf that he could see, and none to bad to look at.&nbsp; Business first though and that meant talking to the old man.&nbsp; The priest could only be the old man. <br><br>"Father Stirrech?&nbsp; My name's Corso."&nbsp; Corso said, walking up to the gathered group and giving the old man a flourishing bow, sweeping the hat from his head in a grand gesture.&nbsp; "Corso Fell Raza.&nbsp; I understand that you are putting together a company and are looking for people to join."
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				Title: <strong>Re: [PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>National Acrobat</strong> on <strong>29-12-2016, 06:44:21</strong>
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				Yes, welcome Corso he said as the elf arrived. Please have a seat. Soon we will get into the details, but suffice to say the priest stated we are planning on banding together to finally do something about the individuals who have been responsible for raiding the regional area and enslaving members of the population. We have finally received enough information to strike back at them, and hopefully learn more about their operations to take the fight to them.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Dormouse</strong> on <strong>05-01-2017, 07:16:34</strong>
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				“Dawn’s light favor you, father. And you, brother,” Yrsa said, with a nod to Anton. Out of habit, her hand rose to touch the disc of metal hanging on a chain about her neck, the face-in-sun of Pelor. Idly, Yrsa wondered what training a scholarly monk undertook; there had been no such persons at her church. She would have to speak to him about it when they were free to converse and unburdened of formality.<br><br>Yrsa regarded the others with interest, wondering what had brought them to volunteer for this mission. The woman in the cloak, she had no idea. The elven woman’s reason was clear, and though she seemed ill-equipped for battle, Yrsa knew better than to underestimate those who walked with nature. As for the foppish man who reeked of wine, well, she only hoped he was halfway competent with the weapons he carried.<br><br><em>Pelor save us if he isn’t.</em> “It’s good to meet you all,” she said to those who’d just introduced themselves.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grizzly</strong> on <strong>07-01-2017, 06:18:25</strong>
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				Corso slipped his hat under an arm and leaned against one of the church pews close to Viera, crossing his legs and arms in a relaxed manner.&nbsp; He grinned as he looked around at the others once more.&nbsp; "Well...I'm sure that it's a pleasure to make all of your acquaintances.&nbsp; I trust that we'll all become the finest of boon companions during this excursion.&nbsp; Are we waiting on many others?&nbsp; I would hate to think that I've missed the introductions."<br><br>So far it did not seem to be a very lively gathering.&nbsp; He really hoped that his traveling companions had more personality than the church pew that he was leaning against otherwise this was going to be one long journey.&nbsp; And one where he would most likely end up talking to himself.&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: [PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>National Acrobat</strong> on <strong>11-01-2017, 05:15:21</strong>
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				'We are waiting on one, but there is no reason that we cannot begin to discuss things among ourselves. It is possible that some who had decided to answer the call may have changed their minds' the priest said. 'I believe, there is also reason to believe that some who had pledged support may be feeling the pangs of regret, or perhaps have had cold feet. The raids and the forces behind them have been proven to be ruthless, and have not let anything get in their way up to this point, so it is possible that agents of the slavers have gotten to those who may have yet to arrive, and persuaded them to call off any participation' he added, moving around to a simple wooden chair and taking a seat.<br><br>'That being said, most folk in this region who have the ability to do something, those who rule, have decided that the time has come to put a dent in their efforts, and to start to strike back. The obvious solution would be to cut the head off, but to do that, it needs to be found. That is where Anton comes in. He has discovered a good starting point to follow the trail'.
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				Title: <strong>Re: [PF][Pomarj-Against the Slavers-Greyhawk][IC-1]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grizzly</strong> on <strong>20-01-2017, 03:43:01</strong>
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				"Well then, since we are waiting, I would love to know who I will be traveling with.&nbsp; Perhaps we could give our names and what credible skills we each possess."&nbsp; Corso said, looking around at those assembled.&nbsp; "Ah but where are my manners?&nbsp; It was my suggestion so it is only fitting that I go first.&nbsp; I was the last to arrive so you've all heard my name.&nbsp; Corso Fell Raza.&nbsp; Adventurer and courtier to my lady Calistria.&nbsp; I do not expect that you would have heard of me, I seem to finally have outrun my reputation."<br><br>Corso gave a soft chuckle and stretched out his arm and with a flick of his wrist, three globes of light appeared floating above his open palm.&nbsp; the globes began to swirl about in a tight pattern.&nbsp; "I have some talent in magic and it's application with a blade."
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