The Evil of Ravenholm - Chapter 1: The Dark City

[SporkMaster5000]

"I find it hard to believe the Bloodstone Stalkers would still be in commission without old Serrin at their head. It sounds suspicious to me," Gerash says, rolling the idea around in his head, if someone was really using the Stalkers as a front, they'd have to have real skill, or the bluff would crumble beneath them. On the other hand, if these were the real deal they likely had a plethora of knowledge to share about death. "If you intend to follow through with this it would have to be with every precaution not to attract a dagger in the back."  

[iDragow]

Grashuk had just left the cottage he had used for the night, clipping the last of his armor back into place. On his way toward the others, nature called, as was its want after waking. He turned slightly, and relieved himself on the nearest corpse.

After taking care of this business, he approached the group at a much more relaxed gate. "Then it would benefit us to have you along, Gerash. One as well-informed as you are would see a trap coming."

The Bugbear kneeled so as to re-buckle his right boot. Flattery will get you everything, as they say. Although he had no particular feeling towards any of them, they worked well together, and nothing would gain them reknown like working for the very same group that Serrin Bloodstone had started.

"We'll have to be careful of traps when we leave this place as well. It's possible that overnight some of the guards who fled found their courage, and might try to ambush us on our way back to Ravenholm."  

[Arc Vembris]

"Oh I hope they do. I do enjoy being thorough." Hars' fingers danced on the hilts of his twin blades.  

[SporkMaster5000]

Gerash didn't say anything to the bugbear's flattery, he still wasn't convinced he wanted any part with a shadowy employer of dubious origin who contacted Cain, of all people, to make his offer. But the group had proven capable during the raid and he was willing to see what this elf had to say before abandoning them to their fate. "Trap or not I'm all for leaving this rot behind. I'd be all for burning it down too, if it weren't soaked through," he said, turning southward. Then, more to himself he continued, "No wonder I never came here before, only thing worth doing in a place like this is razing it. s**t town."  

[iDragow]

Grashuk couldn't agree more with the necromancer's observation. Humans were so stupid. They were little more than cattle, and that might be giving them too much credit.

"Well, no point delaying. Let's head to Ravenholm. When we get there, we can go our own ways. Let us meet up 1 hour after we reach the city, at the Bloodstone tavern. There's usually enough traffic there to mask any conversations. We can decide whether or not to accept the proposal then."

The Bugbear arched his back, feeling several pops as his spine re-aligned itself, and with a more relaxed posture, headed towards the gates of Paolun.  

[NayrVentess]

(I'm going to carry on now, but if any of you wanted to do anything in the village before you left, post it and that should be fine)

Over the next few minutes, you all left the raided village of Paolun behind and headed south east, with the intention of joining onto the trade road that links Ravenholm to Naggaroth far far to the north. It wasn't long before you were south bound on the trade toad.

After a few hours, with the sun starting its descent from the top of the sky, you see a merchant caravan up ahead. It is heading north, so you assume from Ravenholm. As it gets a bit closer, you see that an old looking halfling is sitting at the front of the wagon, two horses in front of him. Flanking the wagon are four guards, or mercenaries you assume, hired to protect the caravan. Two are gruff looking humans, one is a dwarf with an incredibly long beard, and the other is a goblin, wearing an iron helmet that appears to big for him, as it keeps falling down to cover his face, prompting him to lift it back up.

Although the merchants that travel to and from Ravenholm are ready for any sort of combat, you know they try and avoid it. They often either pass right by groups on the road or will happily trade some goods; in the hope that the brigands will barter, rather than attempt to take the trade goods by force.  

[Arc Vembris]

Before they get too close, Hars hitches his trousers a little lower and allows a tail to sprout from his backside as he comes a ram-horned tiefling. A doppelganger wouldn't look out of place within his motley crew, but it was a card best played close to the chest. He turned his hair grey and lined his face with some age, hopefully at a distance the caravan will have counted his number but not his face.  

[SporkMaster5000]

"A tiefling old enough to have wrinkles but not old enough to have his pants tailored, that'll fool them," Gerash comments on Hars' impromptu disguise, "What, did you get tired of dressing up as dead people?" He hoped the others didn't intend to do anything rash to the traders, he wasn't in the mood for a real fight.  

[Arc Vembris]

"Then I'd look like you." Hars explains. "One dead guy in a mixed party is reasonable. Two is ridiculous."

Though proud of his swordsmanship, he isn't above accepting criticism on his appearances. Hars subtly shifts to a youthful female tiefling, shining the grey of age to a lustrous silver. Any excess skin displayed by her low-rising trousers might pass for sex appeal. Further shifts would have to wait until they passed.

"Nobody tell me we have to fight these mooks. They look like something I picked out of my teeth the other day."  

[joe-dude667]

Listening to the two bickering of his allies, Cain looks up and notices the approaching Caravan.

"We must seek out Foyrd!" Cain said somewhat erratically. "We can kill nameless mercenaries on another day."  

[Vorastrix]

Pelloth kept his hands inside his cloak, but he was gripping tightly onto his rod prepared for danger. He wasn't planning on attacking the troupe, but they might just attack them as a precautionary measure.  

[iDragow]

He also held the sentiment the others had already expressed. They were tired from the long journey, and although the merchant must have something worth protecting, it would be more in their interest to escape without conflict. Although, if the guards decided to start fight, he'd make sure to finish it.

"If they do attack us, we'll have to defend ourselves. Otherwise, no sense picking fights we can avoid until we've had a rest."  

[NayrVentess]

As you would expect most merchants to do, the halfling merely keeps two watchful eyes on you as he steers his wagon past you. The mercenaries, hands on their weapons give you a wide berth. In the last few months, you have started to garner a reputation in Ravenholm, and you have the feeling these mercs know who you are and what you are capable of.

Another few hours pass, until eventually on the horizon to the south you can see Ravenholm. Its large walls seem to sprout up from the ground as if daring anyone to try and claim the city, as Serrin Bloodstone did all those years ago. As you get closer still, you can see the one entrance to Ravenholm; the Gate. It consists of a large archway, in the middle of which a portcullis can be dropped down at any moment. The lever to activate the gate is inside the tower next to it, but the portcullis hardly ever sees any use.

You have just entered the archway when, SLAM! The portcullis comes smashing down to the ground, baring your entry to the city. You wonder who is operating it, when it all becomes clear.

Stepping up to the other side of the gate, you see a tall, muscular hobgoblin wearing chainmail and an evil smile.

'Lord' Dregthuk.

When he speaks, as when you've heard him before, his voice is deep but his speech is surprisingly fluent, he dictates the words correctly; this is odd to see in a hobgoblin, especially a mercenary one from Ravenholm. "I was wondering when this little ragtag band of f***wits was coming back to my city." You hear laughter form behind him as some of his cronies, including his right hand man 'Karz the Impaler' a Gnoll, walk up to stand behind him.

"So, where have you been Grastin lovers? Off s******g each other up the arse? Or in the doppelgangers case, p***y. There is more laughter from the group of humans, half-orcs and such from behind him.

"Oh yes, and you Bugbear. Have you come back so I can put a collar back around your filthy neck eh? Do you miss the life of a slave? The big bad world too much for your puny brain to handle?  

[joe-dude667]

Cain begun to laugh manically as the Goblin dishes out the insults. After wiping his eyes on his bloodstained shirt he stands back up to face him.

"Dregthuk i-in-insults us!" He begun to shout between fits of hysterical laughter, "When he needs a thick metal gate between us while he does it! Hahahaha!"  

[Vorastrix]

Normally he would have used diplomacy to get out of a situation like this, but he knew that wouldn't work on the likes of this Goblinoid. It had been a long day and he was all for killing the creature, steel bars or not. But, if he did that, he wouldn't be able to get inside, so he decided on another tact.

"How dare you bar my path you imbred piece of filth. I've tolerated your 'lordship' to this point, but if you don't open these portcullises and get the hell out of our way," he raised his rod and pointed it directly at the beasts chest, and laid a curse on him for good measure, "I'll sacrifice you to Zehir."

[[Intimidate: 15...worth a shot, heh]]