As the caravan wound it's way along the road, the guards hired to protect it kept a sharp lookout. It was well known that bandits lived among the trees and would occasionally attack caravans that seemed to have good pickings. And there were rumors that monsters live in the mountains and that they would attack as well. But so far everything had been peaceful.
There were the usual mix of people one tended to see in a group like this - merchants seeking profits, people seeking new and better lives in a different place, and some who were just seeking.
Among the latter was Eona Morrit. A half elf who no longer fit into the human village where she was raised, she was seeking somewhere that she could fit into the world and always in the back of her mind was the idea that maybe she might be able to meet the elf mother who had abandoned her.
Her current place in the world was riding on the back of one of the merchant's carts. They had agreed that if she would use her skills as a Druid to assist if any trouble arose then he would give her a lift. She tried to ignore the bumps as she mended a rip in one of her spare tunics. All of her clothes were of good quality and would last a long time if she took good care of them like her father had taught her. As she sewed she hummed a little tune and swayed her head, the highlights in her red hair shining in the sunlight filtering through the trees.
Jack trudged along the dirt trail that crossed through the few towns scattered around the area. He had left one of those towns just that morning, or rather he was booted out by the strong foot of their half-orc leader. Jack could still feel the bruising under his left eye and at spots on both his ribs. He didn't have a mirror, but he knew they had already begun to blossom with greens and purples. He was a professional at getting his ass kicked by now.
He thought things like, ‘How was I supposed to know she was your daughter?’ and ‘She came onto me!’, before his inner rant was interrupted by the distant sounds of clopping hooves and wheels. He stopped, stepped to one side of the trail, and waited alertly, one gloved hand hovering just above the hilt of his sword. The humming reached his ears and sounded eerie to him as he waited alone among the trees.
When the cart came into view, it was clear to Jack that it belonged to a couple of merchants. He mistakenly assumed that the red haired lass in the back of the cart was a merchant. His heart lurched for a moment at the sight of her, until he noticed her pointed ears peeking out from her unruly hair. Not human- That was good. No setting off his curse today! There were many non-human beings in this area of the world, something Jack was becoming increasingly grateful for.
“Good noon to you,” Jack said to the cart’s driver with a nod. He asked him for a ride to where he was going and offered 10 silver, to which the driver agreed and told him to sit in the back with the “other one”.
Jack looked back at the elf like something had just dawned on him and then he thanked the man and joined her, taking the seat on the opposing side and smelling like sweat, booze, and shame.
“And good noon to you,” he told her, eyeing her hands if she had continued to sew. He wasn't planning on sharing the reason he needed a lift and so he made sure not to ask about her’s either.
He thought things like, ‘How was I supposed to know she was your daughter?’ and ‘She came onto me!’, before his inner rant was interrupted by the distant sounds of clopping hooves and wheels. He stopped, stepped to one side of the trail, and waited alertly, one gloved hand hovering just above the hilt of his sword. The humming reached his ears and sounded eerie to him as he waited alone among the trees.
When the cart came into view, it was clear to Jack that it belonged to a couple of merchants. He mistakenly assumed that the red haired lass in the back of the cart was a merchant. His heart lurched for a moment at the sight of her, until he noticed her pointed ears peeking out from her unruly hair. Not human- That was good. No setting off his curse today! There were many non-human beings in this area of the world, something Jack was becoming increasingly grateful for.
“Good noon to you,” Jack said to the cart’s driver with a nod. He asked him for a ride to where he was going and offered 10 silver, to which the driver agreed and told him to sit in the back with the “other one”.
Jack looked back at the elf like something had just dawned on him and then he thanked the man and joined her, taking the seat on the opposing side and smelling like sweat, booze, and shame.
“And good noon to you,” he told her, eyeing her hands if she had continued to sew. He wasn't planning on sharing the reason he needed a lift and so he made sure not to ask about her’s either.
She sat upon the burgundy vardo wagon, a small house on wheels trundling along the dirt road. The back of the wagon featured a small door and a delightful small window that allowed a person inside to see who might be knocking.
The wagon's arched roof was topped in supplies, stopped from sliding off by a wooden rim that the crates and containers were tied to.
At the forefront of the wagon an elven woman sat atop the bench, loosely holding the reins of the old draft horse that pulled the vardo. Lounging beneath a fabric umbrella that kept the sun off of her porcelain skin the woman, scarcely more than a girl really, drew her long golden yes back over her shoulder. She was dressed in a black silk bedlah, a loose fitting set of pantaloons and sleeves that were slit at the sides and a leather laced bustier meant to lift her generous bosom.
The bench being say the top of the wagon offered the girl an exceptional view over the more practical farmer's wagons but the view did not seem to be enough to allay her boredom for she held a book in one hand and reached for a hookah's with the same hand that held the twins and inhaled the smoke of the smoldering herbs within.
The wagon's arched roof was topped in supplies, stopped from sliding off by a wooden rim that the crates and containers were tied to.
At the forefront of the wagon an elven woman sat atop the bench, loosely holding the reins of the old draft horse that pulled the vardo. Lounging beneath a fabric umbrella that kept the sun off of her porcelain skin the woman, scarcely more than a girl really, drew her long golden yes back over her shoulder. She was dressed in a black silk bedlah, a loose fitting set of pantaloons and sleeves that were slit at the sides and a leather laced bustier meant to lift her generous bosom.
The bench being say the top of the wagon offered the girl an exceptional view over the more practical farmer's wagons but the view did not seem to be enough to allay her boredom for she held a book in one hand and reached for a hookah's with the same hand that held the twins and inhaled the smoke of the smoldering herbs within.
The note crinckled beneath Tonaf's broad fingers, its creases marred the vellum stained fabric like a crone's skin, long worn from over-wrapping and over-reading as a pang of trepidation speared into his chest. His seated legs were numbed even as he ricketed back and forth within the rumbling caravan, the clear sky outside breathed light into the little room, hardly providing the comfort that it should have under any other circumstance. Now the light only fed Ton a grim reminder of what awaited him, and though he and big brother Teddley had been parted for almost a decade, he still remembered the dour disposition of the man who would leave the Odarg hovel to pursue a career in priesthood.
"...My village is gone, my sons and daughters are missing, I fear that they are dead... ...my body is sick with the corruption, my youngest brother..." Tonaf's eyes shot a rouge line toward the end of the note. "...May this letter receive you post-haste, and take great care, for evil has sent forth jackals within the shapes of men."
Tonaf slipped the note back into a pouch by his worn belt. He rested a free hand upon the haft of his lumberaxe, a keening gleam glistening from the blade's newly sharpened edge, fresh from the whetstone. With what money he could afford, Tonaf had taken a few precautions before giving the Odarg hovel a sad farewell. He wore a dark leather jerkin over the grassy shade of his felt fleece, a studded shield that the Wood Dwarf barely knew how to use hung tight over his back. He'd keep it slung there; it felt far more secure keeping his rear safeguarded. Hunting the larger game of Dukewood felt far more comfortable under the sanctuary of a two-handed axe. If luck was on his side, he would not have to make use of it. He would not meet these 'jackals' brother Teddley had referred to, and he would return back to Dukewood with newfound solace.
He stroked his cropped beard as he pondered the matter darkly, the rumblings outside agitating his thoughts. Men had stared curiously at his stature, short of height, though broad of a muscular width which few folk could compare with. Travellers seldom rode through Dukewood, those who did dubbed him 'The Wood Dwarf' for a reason, though it was a name that Ton felt no attachment to; he'd never even met another of his mountain bred folk, and understood no such bond nor cared to do so.
Picking absentmindedly at the knittings of his newly bought jerkin did little to still the anxiety. Tonaf was not afraid of other men, jackals or not, but the question of Teddley's poor health weighed heavy on his mind. Until the caravans came to a halt, he would not stir from his reverie.
"...My village is gone, my sons and daughters are missing, I fear that they are dead... ...my body is sick with the corruption, my youngest brother..." Tonaf's eyes shot a rouge line toward the end of the note. "...May this letter receive you post-haste, and take great care, for evil has sent forth jackals within the shapes of men."
Tonaf slipped the note back into a pouch by his worn belt. He rested a free hand upon the haft of his lumberaxe, a keening gleam glistening from the blade's newly sharpened edge, fresh from the whetstone. With what money he could afford, Tonaf had taken a few precautions before giving the Odarg hovel a sad farewell. He wore a dark leather jerkin over the grassy shade of his felt fleece, a studded shield that the Wood Dwarf barely knew how to use hung tight over his back. He'd keep it slung there; it felt far more secure keeping his rear safeguarded. Hunting the larger game of Dukewood felt far more comfortable under the sanctuary of a two-handed axe. If luck was on his side, he would not have to make use of it. He would not meet these 'jackals' brother Teddley had referred to, and he would return back to Dukewood with newfound solace.
He stroked his cropped beard as he pondered the matter darkly, the rumblings outside agitating his thoughts. Men had stared curiously at his stature, short of height, though broad of a muscular width which few folk could compare with. Travellers seldom rode through Dukewood, those who did dubbed him 'The Wood Dwarf' for a reason, though it was a name that Ton felt no attachment to; he'd never even met another of his mountain bred folk, and understood no such bond nor cared to do so.
Picking absentmindedly at the knittings of his newly bought jerkin did little to still the anxiety. Tonaf was not afraid of other men, jackals or not, but the question of Teddley's poor health weighed heavy on his mind. Until the caravans came to a halt, he would not stir from his reverie.
There was yet amongst the caravan, nestled amingst the hay for the horses was another she-elf, peacefully dozing while the journey was underway. She had bronze skin and hair of platinum, an exotic sight in these parts, scant pieces of leather barely contained her ridiculously curvaceous form and preserved what little modesty she had left. A gleaming greatsword of preposterous width lay beside her, dwarven runes of power lining the blade...
Whilst she joined this caravan for transport she had struck a simple bargain with the Packmaster to provide security in exchange for tagging along- particularly at night hence why she slept now. She cared not where she would end up, only that she got there faster than on foot.
Whilst she joined this caravan for transport she had struck a simple bargain with the Packmaster to provide security in exchange for tagging along- particularly at night hence why she slept now. She cared not where she would end up, only that she got there faster than on foot.
((OOC: Mounted raiders?
Much further ahead on the path approached a multitude of hooves clopping against the road, sourced from a party of three Cossackian horsemen. All armed with Shashkan sabres hidden away in magnificently studded sheathes of firey Rubies, aquatic Saphires, and most commonly, oakey colored Amber. Each man wore a decorative attire of linen vyshyvanka shirts that had been intricately sewn with threads of deep palated color, greyed hide pants, and a pair of dark leather boots. Their hair was long and well braided, adorned with silvery wire and small bone (seemingly that of avian species) and long curled mustaches rested above their lips, giving them almost a jolly impression. All three men spoke and joked as if they’d just returned from having the time of their lives. They rode forth in a formation of a triangle, one leading and two behind.
The first one would notice was their horses. The two in the back seemed to be of the Trotter Species, one an ebony black while the other a chestnut red, however the horse leading was something out of a fairytale.
It was a Knabstrupper. And yet, a very oversized one at that, as if the breed wasn’t rare enough. It was perhaps the height of a man and a half and seemed to have the strength of ten. And atop this mighty beast was an awkwardly looking fellow with a missing ear. However despite his apparent misfortune he seemed the jolliest of them all, laughing and rolling without a worry in the world.
However all this stopped once the three caught sight of the wagon. Their fixation of fun turned into a fixation of worry as they rode past with their heads down low.
Each offered up a faint, “Good day to you”
to the members of the wagon and peered up with shameful eyes as if they were afraid. They seemed prepared to take the harassment of a lifetime for they knew they were not supposed to be on this road.
The first one would notice was their horses. The two in the back seemed to be of the Trotter Species, one an ebony black while the other a chestnut red, however the horse leading was something out of a fairytale.
It was a Knabstrupper. And yet, a very oversized one at that, as if the breed wasn’t rare enough. It was perhaps the height of a man and a half and seemed to have the strength of ten. And atop this mighty beast was an awkwardly looking fellow with a missing ear. However despite his apparent misfortune he seemed the jolliest of them all, laughing and rolling without a worry in the world.
However all this stopped once the three caught sight of the wagon. Their fixation of fun turned into a fixation of worry as they rode past with their heads down low.
Each offered up a faint, “Good day to you”
to the members of the wagon and peered up with shameful eyes as if they were afraid. They seemed prepared to take the harassment of a lifetime for they knew they were not supposed to be on this road.
..
Eona Morrit wrote:
((OOC: Why don't we try goblins? It gives a good range of things that can happen. Since I'm the one who suggested the encounter, I'll start it then everyone can post the fight they want to have. And if some of the goblins are mounted on giant rats that works for me. Two rules though - no god moding and no interfering with anyone else's combat unless you have permission, either here or over DMs. Sound good for everyone?))
((Okey-dokey
Jack wrote:
(( okay cool 😁 might i suggest that all the caravans save for one, maybe two, get too badly damaged, forcing the band of characters to get to know each other in their closer quarters? lol ))
((Good idea
Eona’s hands stilled and she looked up in surprise. When she raised her head the profusion of freckles across her cheeks and nose made it obvious that she was not a full blooded elf.
“Good noon to you,” she said. Then she broke into a friendly smile. “I see that Goodman Tarle decided to give you a ride as well. I’m Eona.”
As she spoke she heard a sound off in the trees. She might not only be a half elf, but she still had good hearing and eyesight. She tucked her needle into the fabric of the tunic and laid them down beside her. “I think there’s something in the trees,” she said quietly.
Checking first that her staff was still within easy reach, she pulled out her sling with one hand while reaching into her bag of shot with the other. Just then she saw a flash of light glinting off something metal as a small figure appeared from behind a tree.
Eona stood, already swinging her sling. “Goblins in the woods!” she shouted, hoping she could be heard by everyone in the caravan or at least far enough that the message could be spread.
“Good noon to you,” she said. Then she broke into a friendly smile. “I see that Goodman Tarle decided to give you a ride as well. I’m Eona.”
As she spoke she heard a sound off in the trees. She might not only be a half elf, but she still had good hearing and eyesight. She tucked her needle into the fabric of the tunic and laid them down beside her. “I think there’s something in the trees,” she said quietly.
Checking first that her staff was still within easy reach, she pulled out her sling with one hand while reaching into her bag of shot with the other. Just then she saw a flash of light glinting off something metal as a small figure appeared from behind a tree.
Eona stood, already swinging her sling. “Goblins in the woods!” she shouted, hoping she could be heard by everyone in the caravan or at least far enough that the message could be spread.
Eona Morrit wrote:
Jack wrote:
(( okay cool 😁 might i suggest that all the caravans save for one, maybe two, get too badly damaged, forcing the band of characters to get to know each other in their closer quarters? lol ))
((Great suggestion! Maybe Assallya's and the one that Eona and Jack are on survive? I think Jhananda is the only other character who's in in a vehicle. And if the driver of the one that Eona and Jack are on dies/the goods are damaged in some way then we can "acquire" it.))
((I can get Jhanandra out of her cart easy enough
The blonde elven dancing girl sat poised on the suspended bench, the mouthpiece of her shisha pipe in hand and held before her black painted lips. Exhaling smoke she turned her blonde head towards the rallying cry.
"What is that moon's-cloth headed wench going on about?" Assallya asked herself aloud as she watched the half-elven druidess standing atop the other wagon and begin twirling her sling.
"By Sharess' tits," she murmured as her blue eyes scanned the treeline where Eona's attention was being drawn.
"What is that moon's-cloth headed wench going on about?" Assallya asked herself aloud as she watched the half-elven druidess standing atop the other wagon and begin twirling her sling.
"By Sharess' tits," she murmured as her blue eyes scanned the treeline where Eona's attention was being drawn.
When he met her eyes, the girl’s features startled Jack a moment, though not enough to show it. He double checked her ears before he returned her smile.
“I guess he did!” Jack told her with a shrug. “Nice to meet you, Eona. I'm Jack.”
He wondered if she knew the man, Tarle, and would have asked as much if it wasn’t for her sobering expression. Instead he held his breath and listened, looking at her with the same concerned face.
She about whispered then and already Jack’s hand was on his sword. He didn't hear a thing which further relieved him about the girl's non-human distinction. He looked where she was looking then back after he didn't see anything. As soon as she yelled about goblins, however, they showed themselves to him, as if summoned by the word.
“You’re kidding,” Jack groaned, standing up in the cart and working to keep his balance. “Can’t catch a bloody break.”
He unsheathed his sword and waited, his eyes quickly scanning, counting, and plotting the best move.
“I guess he did!” Jack told her with a shrug. “Nice to meet you, Eona. I'm Jack.”
He wondered if she knew the man, Tarle, and would have asked as much if it wasn’t for her sobering expression. Instead he held his breath and listened, looking at her with the same concerned face.
She about whispered then and already Jack’s hand was on his sword. He didn't hear a thing which further relieved him about the girl's non-human distinction. He looked where she was looking then back after he didn't see anything. As soon as she yelled about goblins, however, they showed themselves to him, as if summoned by the word.
“You’re kidding,” Jack groaned, standing up in the cart and working to keep his balance. “Can’t catch a bloody break.”
He unsheathed his sword and waited, his eyes quickly scanning, counting, and plotting the best move.
The cry of enemies upon the horizen awoke Jhanandra like the dead rising on command, but she did not leap into action. Instead she claimed her blade and sunk into the pile of hay, moving withing the golden mass to where she could peek upon the treeline without giving away her position... there was hunting to do.
Tonaf was still stroking the haft of his lumberaxe when the warning shout stung his ears. His grip upon the wooden shaft of his weapon was sudden and intense, as he stood up to observe the commotion from open window his coach, the little caravan barely a few feet above his already short frame. Peering over the simple window of his coach, the lumberaxe was girded tight across Ton's leather bound chest as he spotted the shadows of little figures wading behind the forest trees, their green complexions half concealing them beneath the canopy. Life in the forest had given Ton a keen sight for danger.
"Goblins, nasty little creatures." Tonaf murmured aloud. The little beasts were no strangers to Dukewood, and he had no fear of them in their small parties - he had taught a few of the little bullies why an axe-bearing lumberjack should not be provoked. To chase a caravan trail was something entirely different, however. These goblins must be raving mad, or worse, numerous enough to brave the coaches.
The thought made his stomach gurgle as he continued to peer indecisively through the little window. If fate was good today, these little buggers would run off once enough of their mates caught a face full of slung stone.
Or so he would hope.
"Goblins, nasty little creatures." Tonaf murmured aloud. The little beasts were no strangers to Dukewood, and he had no fear of them in their small parties - he had taught a few of the little bullies why an axe-bearing lumberjack should not be provoked. To chase a caravan trail was something entirely different, however. These goblins must be raving mad, or worse, numerous enough to brave the coaches.
The thought made his stomach gurgle as he continued to peer indecisively through the little window. If fate was good today, these little buggers would run off once enough of their mates caught a face full of slung stone.
Or so he would hope.
At the first cry of danger, the three horsemen spurred their mounts and charged with an earsplitting, “GO”. Each leaping from the road to the field in massive bounds leaving nothing more than tumbling stones and a cloud of dirt.
The awkward fellow instantly took lead as the Knabstupper’s hooves shook the earth below it with such force it could be heard by those still within the wooden carts. The beast beneath him breathed heavily, spraying saliva and extruding hot air from its nostrils nearly imitating a hunting mutt ravaged towards it’s masters recent kill. It’s pupils dilating with focus in a way that seemed almost personal yet purposeful and upon closing the gap between the wagon and these rat-riding raiders, the leader ordered, “Sabres ready?”
With that, all three warriors unsheathed their blades and poised their bodies low against their steed’s necks, ready to cut each of these sudden intruders from their mounts, dispatching of them instantly.
The awkward fellow instantly took lead as the Knabstupper’s hooves shook the earth below it with such force it could be heard by those still within the wooden carts. The beast beneath him breathed heavily, spraying saliva and extruding hot air from its nostrils nearly imitating a hunting mutt ravaged towards it’s masters recent kill. It’s pupils dilating with focus in a way that seemed almost personal yet purposeful and upon closing the gap between the wagon and these rat-riding raiders, the leader ordered, “Sabres ready?”
With that, all three warriors unsheathed their blades and poised their bodies low against their steed’s necks, ready to cut each of these sudden intruders from their mounts, dispatching of them instantly.
At Eona's warning cry, the traveling caravan stopped marching towards the East.
Among the dry vegetation of the south forest, scattered and hidden among the towering trees, were their newfound enemies peeking through with yellow eyes. Goblins. Nasty monsters known everywhere for their vicious nature and dirty appearance, but remembered by all for their despicable fighting tactics. Although their surprise element was lost, not a single one of those creatures hesitated another moment and charged against their targets: Anything that moved.
The three horsemen's swift actions downed but a few before the greenish creatures scattered, short height and great agility facilitating most to bypass and get closer to what is now a spectacle of growing panic.
At the forefront of the line, Tarle fought his own battle to keep the pulling horse from running in its fright. Less he is separated and loses the small protection granted from staying with the rest. The man could only watch as three goblins sprinted toward his direction, rusted blades being raised to target either him or the animal that could manage to escape. It all came down to Eona or Jack to intercept them before those things reached him.
Another two of those smelly creatures set their aim on the vardo wagon behind Tarle, eyes shining at the sight of the elf seated there as if she was some sort of trophy highly sought after. Their wicked smile seemed to grow together with their eagerness to climb and slash. Perhaps capture. Somehow, Assallya had gained that duo's absolute attention and it would be quite difficult to make them turn tail now.
But it is the middle of the line where most of the creatures ran towards. The two coaches filled with people seemed to be the most profitable target, especially the fancier one where the caravan master was situated. Stevan was the one responsible to bring this myriad of people and goods to the next town per the feudal lord's request. Without him, anyone's entrance into the city will be, in all likelihood, denied. On the other carriage, Tonaf could easily count six of them getting closer with every passing second, blades at the ready to first kill the animals and their respective coachmen.
For the hidden Jhanandra, only one goblin managed to evade Ruslan and rush towards the mule pulling the hay wagon. Oblivious to the threat lurking so close, the monster shouted what sounded like curses to all who couldn't understand the goblin language. But for those who could, it would become clear that this sturdy-looking green creature was the leader of the group. A golden necklace soiled beyond recognition and an unusual short staff made of wood and resin are the only characteristics to distinguish him from all the others.
Eona loosed the shot from her sling, striking the goblin she had first seen in the head and knocking it down and hoped it would stay that way. Picking up her staff she lept to the ground and ran to meet the first of the three little creatures heading for Goodman Tarle's cart. The staff would increase her already greater reach and hopefully keep the little bugger far away.
It met Eona's strike with it's club and unfortunately was just fast and short enough to duck down and get under her most effective area and hit her in the thigh. Dropping her staff, Eona unsheathed her daggers crouching down a bit to try to make the thing easier to reach at this close range.
The little monster was wily and quick, but Eona had better training and more of it so thought it was able to dodge and parry her attacks of a little bit, she eventually won out with a stab to its chest. It fell as she pulled out her blade and she turned to see if there were any other enemies to fight.
It met Eona's strike with it's club and unfortunately was just fast and short enough to duck down and get under her most effective area and hit her in the thigh. Dropping her staff, Eona unsheathed her daggers crouching down a bit to try to make the thing easier to reach at this close range.
The little monster was wily and quick, but Eona had better training and more of it so thought it was able to dodge and parry her attacks of a little bit, she eventually won out with a stab to its chest. It fell as she pulled out her blade and she turned to see if there were any other enemies to fight.
The head goblin would falsely believe itself to be alone as it rushed the hay wagon- why that for a target was a discussion for the scholars, perhaps it wanted to be the first to reach any wagon as a means of showing superiority to its subordinates. However instead of golden hay or a mule to feast on a muscular she-elf leapt from under the hay with a startling battlecry.
Lunging clear of the wagon she tackled the goblin leader to the ground, stunned it was trapped in an iron grip as an arm came around its throat, a hand gripoing the head and twisting it unto the nexk made a sickening crack. The leader dropped lifeless, but the barbarian was not done yet...
Lunging clear of the wagon she tackled the goblin leader to the ground, stunned it was trapped in an iron grip as an arm came around its throat, a hand gripoing the head and twisting it unto the nexk made a sickening crack. The leader dropped lifeless, but the barbarian was not done yet...
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