Birthright: Tuornen IC

[ewancummins]

"Great job Roald! Let me check something, sometimes these trapdoors have traps. I don't know much about searching but can give it a try."

Filbert gets to one knee and with his dagger pats the floor around the trap door trying to a find any kind of mecchanism then gets a piece of wire from his pocket and passes it from the small gup between the floor and the trapdoor.

Filbert doesn't find any sign that the door is trapped.

It opens easily enough, with no need to pick any locks or shift any latches.

A short wooden staircase runs down into a narrow, dusty cellar. The candle's light reveals a few rusty drops on the steps.
If there are doors or deeper passageways in the little cellar room, Roald and Filbert cannot see them from the ground floor.
Unless maybe one of the two sticks his head down into the hole, or goes down the steps...

[ewancummins]

[dice]0[/dice]

[ewancummins]

The Auld Oak

True night has come, and with it a brewing storm.
The Huntsman has finished his droning chant in the courtyard near the great oak tree. Lightning crackles in the purple clouds that swirl and tumble over the inn-- thicker in that patch of sky than elsewhere. The rain grows heavier, falling in rhythmic waves against the shingled roof and the hard packed earth, a tattoo drummed out before battle is joined.
Cormac and Gunnar stand ready for battle, sheltered by the overhanging roof, watching the North Road.
Gunnar’s warhorse rubs its flank against the wall of the inn, snorts, and kicks up fist-sized divots of the damp earth.
Brennan’s hounds, locked in the common room with the frightened defenders, set up a great yowling and barking.

Growing, bobbing flames appear up the muddy line of the North Road. The shrill neighs of horses, the tinkling jangle of harness, and the murmurs of the riders’ voices come ever closer.

Gunnar and Cormac watch for the riders, who remain out of sight, save for the glare of their torches. Cormac spots something else, closer; a line of small, skulking, bent figures creeping along the hedgerows besides the road, making for the corner of the inn. The eyes of the hunched creatures catch the lantern glow from within the Auld Oak, reflecting it like the eyes of polecats.

[VAN]

Standing up Filbert says:

"Well, I don't think there is a trap Roald, but better be careful once inside. Since I bet you are better in close combat than I am it's better if you go first and I will follow."

[JMaytr]

Devlin stares at Bauub's creation and sneers. The toymaker had tried to kill him. Just as he had clearly killed his father. Devlin shakes with rage.

"Find Bauub the Toymaker!! He must be brought to me alive!! Search everywhere! His home, the churches, the graveyards, everywhere!"

Devlin ignores his injuries and checks on the guards affected by the toxic gas.

[Varrus the Ethical]

Standing up Filbert says:

"Well, I don't think there is a trap Roald, but better be careful once inside. Since I bet you are better in close combat than I am it's better if you go first and I will follow."

"A good idea. You hold the candle and give me light."

Roald takes his bastard sword in both hands and starts walking down the steps.

[ewancummins]

Under the Toymaker's House



Roald goes down first, and sees no traps or foes by the light of his candle.
From the deep shadows in the corners of the dirt-floor cellar, Roald hears soft chattering and the pad of tiny feet. When he moves his light closer for a look--nothing, not even mouse droppings.
The candle—his only source of light-- flickers in a cold, clammy draft that seeps in from the north end of the room. Looking a bit closer, Roald discovers a dirty gray curtain hung across a low corridor cut in the wall, an opening from whence comes the cool air.

[Varrus the Ethical]

Roald pushes the curtain aside with the point of his sword.

[ewancummins]

Devlin, the Palace-

Devlin stares at Bauub's creation and sneers. The toymaker had tried to kill him. Just as he had clearly killed his father. Devlin shakes with rage.

"Find Bauub the Toymaker!! He must be brought to me alive!! Search everywhere! His home, the churches, the graveyards, everywhere!"

Devlin ignores his injuries and checks on the guards affected by the toxic gas.

Neither man is dead, but both appear to be ill., green-faced and sweaty. One of them cannot speak, but only coughs when he opens his mouth. The other asks Devlin in a hoarse voice-''Are you badly hurt, your grace?"

The chaplain, a physician, and a passel of servants come to attend to the injured and ill.
Newly arrived priest and place officials enter the room and approach Devlin, but are held back a little distance by his guards.
The gray-bearded Castellan arrives and informs Devlin,
“Your Grace, the time for the ceremony draws near. A carriage stands ready to convey you to the cathedral, if it pleases you.”

[ewancummins]

Under Baubb's House-

Roald pushes the curtain aside with the point of his sword.

He looks into a low tunnel with dirt walls, braced at interval by timber supports. Wooden rails (like the sort Roald once saw used by dwarf sappers to move carts during a particularly long siege) run down the gallery into the darkness.

[VAN]

Filbert that follows Roald says:

"Look at this place, seems really well organized. It has a fast way out in case Baubb needs to ecsaape. I'm afraid he has made more than one strange toys that probably can controll from distance. He isn't just a toymaker, more like a pupeteer...Anyway, do you have any torch or other source of light? If not better go back we can't risk stay without light in the tunnel. We can go back and then come back with soldiers even if that means Baubb will put more distance between him and us but I believe our men with horses can get him, after all we know how he looks like. But if you do have a torch or another candlle lets proceed."

[Adam]

Cormac reaches for an arrow, silently drawing it flush and letting fly at the skulking figures.

"Take this, ya varmints!"

[JMaytr]

Duke Flaertes clasps the guard on the forearm and helps him to his feet.

"My injuries would be much graver if it were not for the quick intervention of you both. Good work men. Let's see you to the infirmary."

Devlin smashes a bit of porcelin mask for good measure. He then turns his attention to the chaplain.

"I will be needing a change of clothing. Something more befitting a ceremony, and less bloody."

[ewancummins]

Caer Haes-

Duke Flaertes clasps the guard on the forearm and helps him to his feet.

"My injuries would be much graver if it were not for the quick intervention of you both. Good work men. Let's see you to the infirmary."

Devlin smashes a bit of porcelin mask for good measure. He then turns his attention to the chaplain.

"I will be needing a change of clothing. Something more befitting a ceremony, and less bloody."

Devlin’s sick men are taken to the infirmary, and the young lord is taken to a dressing room. In a short time, he is made ready for the ceremony and escorted to a carriage with green glass windows, varnished chestnut panels, and bright brass fixtures. A team of broad shouldered cream-coated horses stands in harness, snuffling the cold air.
The driver cracks his whip and the carriage rolls out, accompanied by guards and attendants on horse and on foot...

[ewancummins]

The Auld Oak-


Cormac's shots miss their marks, but Gunnar downs two of the creeping foes. One drops without so much as a whimper but the other shrieks high and long, like an injured horse.

The hunched shapes break from a trot to a full tilt charge, splashing through the rain and screaming hideous war cries. Lightning reveals six smallish figures with mad eyes and too-wide grins. They gray-faced beasties hurl javelins and small axes at Gunnar and Cormac without slowing their stride.

A javelin sticks in the wall quite close to Cormac, and a hand axe strikes Gunnar in the shoulder--but hilt-first instead of head first.

One of the enemy falls with a spear in his back.

VIEW CONTENT:

"Get out of me way next time!"

*

The surviving attackers will be on top of their position in a matter of seconds, leaving them a little time to choose...


-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Other side of the building--


Riders form up outside the closed wicket with guttering torches and naked swords.

One of the horsemen spurs his mount close to the gate and shouts.

''Come on out and give up. We aint going to kill any who don't fight. We just want money and beer. "



* You don't understand this unless you speak Goblin-talk.