((OOC Thread link: kingdom-come-ooc-closed-new-characters-t26076.html ))

Clouds. Billows of grey arched across the sky obscuring any hint of blue. Like the arches of a cathedral, the clouds cast gloom and dark shadows across the wilderness. Green forests, dense in some places and empty in others, that stretch for miles. To the north and somewhat far into the distance you can see a mountain range, slightly obscured by the clouds. The trees about you are of an assorted look mostly deciduous with green leaves.

The sky, lacking illumination, was dark, and had been all day. This part of the Chondalwood was seemingly deserted; and as you passed through it to your respective destinations, you began to notice the smell of rain. It came with a northerly wind, and as you looked towards the mountains, you could no longer see the mountains. The smell of rain was no longer just a smell, the rain quickly reached you. As the rain fell, it was accompanied by loud peals of thunder that seemed to roll across the landscape. The sun is now completely hidden behind the clouds, and the sky turns into a dark, churning chaos. The wind from the north turns cold, and bolts of lightning begin to slam from cloud to ground, and pieces of hail begin to strike the earth, the need for shelter becomes obvious.

Ahead in the distance, a large tor, or hill, rises from the ground, its form illuminated by the occasional bolt of lightning. It seems rocky and solid, and though climbing it in this weather would be folly, it might have some outcropping that would provide safety from the storm. The only alternative is to endure the weather, if that is possible.

-----

The Dungeon Master: The ever cliché, but needed, phrase: “What do you do?”

"What a useless caravan..." She mumbled lightly as she trotted in the rain with what would seem like a bunch of freshblood adventurers. But admittedly she was new at this too. She didn't even ask of details like, what was in the caravan and who was coming with her. The hiring merchant, who had was sitting on the caravan itself, was hastily to hire her. She was a cleric and a cook, making her healing vital if anything was to happen. Either way, she had addressed herself as Priestess Garreth of St. Cuthbert and was doing the trip for free. She needed to bring her sister to justice and all leads were heading there. To the dark storms of lightning and thunder.

It seemed the the merchant had traveled the alcoves of the forest before. He knew where he was going and was very quick to lead them to the Tor. A refuge of sorts. A mix collection of travelers and other merchants. At least that is what he rambled on about. She kept her normal alert status, but with the rain and noises... it would be almost impossible seeing an ambush at all.

Tolgen was near the very front of the caravan as he looked to the horizon. The clouds were flashing and rumbling, and there was no sight of relief anytime soon. As a druid native to this area, Tolgen knew what the weather could do here. In this instance, he was making himself useful to this particular caravan as a guide of sorts. It wasn't as thought this caravan couldn't make it's way somewhere, but it could never hurt to have a person on hand who knew where they were going. In situations like the current one, however, he could tend to be quite useful.

Tolgen stood in the front of the caravan. He looked down at his faithful companion, Olcan. His wolf looked up at him, panting. It was strange that he would do such a thing, since it wasn't unnaturally warm. It was raining, after all, and it was actually quite cool out. He stroked Olcan's head, and noticed that his coarse fur was bristled up. It seemed that the wolf was quite nervous about something.

Tolgen whispered a word of relief to Olcan in Sylvan, something he would understand, but probably not hear.

He looked out to the sky and took it all in. He would have to tell the caravan where they stood as far as the weather was concerned. Clearly it was raining, but it had been known to get far worse when it came to weather in the Chodalwood.
***
Ooc: Taking a 10 on a survival check to predict the weather for the next 24 hours.

Tanya Silver-Card nervously poked her head out of one of the caravan wagons. The gypsy had sneaked into the caravan the night before, and they had not noticed her then, but she knew that sooner or later someone would come looking in the wagon full of silks. The sorceress leaned out just a little farther, the cold rain quickly soaking her head and neck. Tanya did not know these travelers, and she feared what they would do if the discovered a stow-away in their midst. Quietly as she could, Tanya whistled for her familiar, Mugan, to join her. The one-eyed raven gladly perched upon her shoulder, happy to be moving at last.

"Where are we going, My Lady?" the raven asked.

"North," Tanya replied for the umpteenth time.

Trying not to be seen, Tanya slipped out of the wagon and out into the night.

((OOC: Making a Hide check))

Loche sat, undisturbed by the harsh elements that plagued his meditation. He enjoyed the challenge of meditating in the rain, but in his home the hard storms always fell in the mountains, and he hardly found the time to climb them while the weather was right. So he sat, silent, contemplating his efforts to meditate in the rain at home compared to how easy it had been to simply stop traveling and sit down where he was. The rain and hail beat down on his cloak, but it was sturdy, if rough, and protected him easily. Regardless, Loche soon had his fill of meditation, stood, and resumed his walking at a slow, patient pace. Looking onward down the path, he saw a large hill, and assumed it would be as good of a place as any to look for shelter for the remainder of the storm.

((Loche is on the same path as the carravan, but far enough away not to be seen and is not aware that they are there. For him to hear the caravan through the storm or whether the caravan might catch up to him is up to the DM))

Saoirse, taking up the rear of the small band of bandits, pushed on through the storm. Not far off loomed a herd of covered caravans, within which waited her next great adventure and an abundance of whatever goods they carried, ripe for the picking. Saoirse's hands, now drumming a mindless beat on the rain drenched wood of her crossbow, tingled with a mixture of cold and adrenaline-fueled excitement.

As Saoirse attempted to shake off the considerable amount of water collecting in the leather of her armor she began to have second thoughts. It was not so much that she was afraid of getting hurt, though that was a very real possibility, but that someone else would. She had, of course, killed before, but only lone bugbears and wild game, never another intelligent being. Perhaps it would be best to hang back, allowing the more violent, noticeably more solid, bandits to take care of the real fighting. Saoirse could, if she was lucky, swoop in and out through the trees once the travelers came close to defeat, taking with her whatever was her within reach. But there was- Before Saoirse had any more time to contemplate this somewhat cowardly, but inarguably less deadly, plan of action she was nudged by a tall, lean fellow baring a ragged rapier.

“You’s ready miss?” He whispered in a thin, raspy voice. Still uncertain, Saoirse loaded her crossbow and nodded quickly in reply. She’d be fine, she was nearly sure of that. As for the bandits, and the people of the caravan for that matter, she was notably less decided. Taking a deep breath, she crouched, clutched her Olidamara and Ehlonna medallions for a short moment, and slipped out from the tree sheltered roadside after the rowdy brutes, all the while reapeating a mantra. Get in, get out. Get in, get out…

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(OOC: Making a Move Silently check. Saoirse has a 4 in this skill and a +2 dex. We are still doing the bandits thing, right??)

The Dungeon Master: Tolgen is able to successfully gauge what the weather is going to do; however, the weather outlook is much worse than the correct mixture of rain, wind, and lightning. Being a druid from these parts, he knows how quickly the storms can change for the worse (+4 circumstance bonus). This storm is one of the worst he has seen, in the next 24 hours the land will see heavy hail, increased lightning bolts, faster, stronger winds, heavier rain that will obstruct sight, and in the next half hour, the storm will be close to its peak, almost deadly even for a druid. Tolgen also knows that the Tor they are coming up to is Hightower Tor, which for a long time was sealed. It recently broke open and some merchants have been using it off and on as shelter during the storm.

Tanya succeeds on her hide check, and is able to slip out of the wagon, and into the darkness without being noticed by any members of the caravan.

------

As you get closer to the Tor, you are able to glean more details about it. You realize that this is no normal hill. This massive tor towers above the surrounding country. A few narrow ledges offer scant protection from the elements, but, as you come closer to the Tor, further inspection reveals a massive, arched entryway at least 20 feet tall, and ten feet wide, set into the side of the hill. On top of the hill, you can see the ruins of a small stone tower. The ground around the archway slopes away from the doorway, directing the falling water out and away. Given this fact, and the sturdy nature of the hill, whatever space lies beyond the door should be both dry and safe from lightning and hail. THe construction seems quite sturdy, so the likelihood of collapse, even in sever conditions such as these, is remote.


((OOC: I will now wait for more characters to RP where they are, and how they are coming to the only shelter, if they are. I'll be introducing a new concept in the OOC thread after this post. Also, I will post once more before the bandits attack, if the bandit idea is still going on.))

As she approached the parts of Tor, she had little time to realize she was so close. With all the rain and chaos, it was hard to make out until being almost right over it. It was a stone built cave, study in creation and foundation from what she could tell. Even if it looked very old and worn down. Did dwarves build this?

She continued until they group began to disorganize and fall into the cave. The goods being slid in as well, at least it was big enough to shelter the smaller caravan. Else they would need to guard it.

She didn't care if there were more inside or if it was just them, she was just decided to prepare the food for the crew. She took her time, slowly working creating a pot of stew. At least she didn't have to buy the tools and supplies, the merchant handled that. And it was only right, she was doing this trip for free. A cook and a healer.

***

OOC: Taking an auto 10 for Profession (Cooking), 13 total.

Elros walks at the forefront of the caravan just a few paces behind Tolgen. He holds his shield above his head, keeping his face and hair relatively dry, but the rest of him is drenched. The rainwater has soaked through his heavy cloak and seeped through the gaps in his armor. His soaked clothing has become heavier, and walking through the mud that covers the ground is uncomfortable, to say the least.

A flash of lightning causes the half-elf to squint, but the light reveals the form of the tor to him, and as the group draws closer Elros takes full notice of the arched entryway. He ponders the hill's potential as a shelter, but trusts the caravan's temporary guide, Tolgen, to lead them properly, and says nothing about it. Instead, he attempts a bit of small talk to dissipate the silence.

"What say you, Druid?" asks Elros, having to shout in order to be heard above the rain and wind. "Will we live out the night?"

Elros is a foreigner to this area, having joined up with the caravan for the purposes of travel. He has been around long enough to have experienced other storms, but nothing quite like this. This is the worst he has seen.

The Dungeon Master: Lancet succeeds her Profession check.

-----

For the Caravan who has entered the Tor, mainly Lancet is the only one who has entered so far, a few caravan members have followed. Some stay outside with Elros and Tolgen the druid, unsure as who to follow, but they do not stay long (Same description will basically apply when other characters enter):
The inside of the Tor was empty, and contained no one besides the newcomers. As the Caravan entered into the Tor, what looked to be a hill on the outside, was more of an underground fortress. The stone chamber beyond the entrance measures at least ten paces square. Peeling paint and broken scrollwork suggest that it was once decorated with some care, but now only dust remains. Three massive stone doors - one each to the left and right, and one directly across from the entrance- lead deeper into the Tor.

The stone is of high quality, with some cracks here and there. The storm outside grows somewhat muffled here, and you are very well sheltered from the rain and the elements. Large flagstone covers the floor, with small cracks in between that contain dust and dirt. It seems that his room was undisturbed for many, many years prior to the destruction of the stone that sealed off the entrance.

As Elros and Tolgen talk, they notice a monk who seemingly escaped their sight in their hurry to reach the Tor. (Storm = horrible spot checks).

((Wait, I'm confused... Loche was in front of them, why are they there before him? Oh well, I'll roll with it))

Loche sat just outside the entrance of the archway, but still under the cover of a small lip of stone, his hood pulled low over his head. He had decided to watch the other travelers in silence as they began to unpack and settle in to wait out the storm and thought nothing much of it. If they happened to share a shelter for the night it was nothing to him, but he was greatful to have a little company at the very least. Nevertheless, he remained as still and quiet as stonework.

SlowlyCrazyIAmGoing wrote:((Wait, I'm confused... Loche was in front of them, why are they there before him? Oh well, I'll roll with it))

I edited my last post to take this into account. Since you were taking a slower pace, I made automatic spot checks for you, and they did not see you, even though you weren't hiding, due to the rain.

Once out of sight of the caravan, Tanya immediately turned around and hurried to catch up with it once more. She was not foolish enough to try to brave the storm alone; she just did not want to get caught as a stow-away. Sloshing awkwardly through the mud, causing Mugan to squawk irritably, the young woman made it to the Tor, where it seemed the caravan was camping until the storm blew over. Tanya had overheard a couple of the caravan members' names, but she dared not use them until properly introduced. Doing her best to appear as little more than a harmless traveler, she approached the one she had heard called Elros.

"Excuse me, sir," she said to him, trying to act meek, "but would it be alright if I stayed with your group until the storm passes over?"

In the back of her mind, Mugan asked, "Why didn't you do this when you first sneaked into the caravan?"

"Shush," was her reply.

"eh there Woman, how is the cooking coming? you know that long friggin walk makes a big man like me hungry" Roy said to the Cook and Cleric, Lancet. oops, that was Miss Garreth. Roy set down his shield and gear, and began to strip off his thick fur cloak, and began looking for a place to hang it to dry. underneath, he was still relatively dry.
"is that Stew? could you make it like my mother used to?" He asked without thinking that she had no idea who his mother was. The job he was hired for was to help this caravan get to its destination, and everybody he met on this trip he liked very much so far. Finally he dropped his cloak on the floor, giving up on finding a place to hang it. Shivering began to overcome the big bear of a man, and he started looking for his flint and steel. He needed heat, and he needed it now. Victory! he had them now. Striking his stone to get sparks, he had no idea that there was no firewood for him to make a fire with.
"Why isn't this working? where be my fire!" Agitated, he took a big swig of his waterskin full of ale, and attempted to make a fire right beside where Lancet Garreth was cooking, oblivious to his current surrounding and situation.

Having chosen to take the first shift at watch, Elros stood beneath an outcropping of rock. It provided little shelter from the wind and the cold, but at least it kept the rain off him for now. He ached for his opportunity to sit by a warm fire and dry off, perhaps even catch a few winks. Standing guard for a while was the least Elros could offer in return for free passage with the caravan. He was not the only adventurer that had been granted such a favor; the merchant was very kind.

He gazed into the night with his arms crossed, able to see little in the dark storm. The orange glow from within the tor did little to illuminate the wilderness beyond. Focusing on one particular area of the surrounding wood, Elros failed to notice Tanya's approach until she addressed him. Slightly startled, his head spun to look upon her, whereafter his surprised expression was quickly replaced with one more friendly.

"It isn't my group, ducky, but I imagine you'll be welcome to share our shelter just the same. Please...." Elros stretched out an arm, gesturing towards the cavern's entrance, inviting Tanya inside.

Elros pondered Tanya's sudden appearance, and did indeed wonder why a lone girl was wandering the woods at this hour, but he did not voice his concern. He would hardly deny Tanya shelter in such a storm. In fact, he hoped that he would not have to stay out here much longer himself.

Saoirse, and the troop of thieves, continued to stalk the caravan as they took shelter in the Tor. Again she tried to shake some of the rainwater, which was now nearly soaking her to the bone, from the creases of her armor. Unsurprisingly, her condition did not improve. Time to reconsider was quickly running out as the rocky entrance, accompanied by the warm flicker of a cooking fire, came into view. A flash of green, perhaps a piece of clothing, could be seen flitting into its’ depths.

As the bandits came within rushing distance of the Tor they split to the left and right, the alarmingly short leader and two others going to the right, and Saoirse to the left. Pushing back a few thick strands of rainslick hair from the plain of her forehead Saoirse again began to plan a quick escape. Perhaps she could wait just outside the Tor as the Bandits in front of her made the attack, shooting in a few bolts for the sake of appearances, and entering upon the caravans defeat, at which time those who were going to die would be long dead… The man guarding the group, as a human(Half-Elves generally appearing to be the race that a Human or Elf is not.), might not even notice her presence. Now lost in thought Saoirse had stopped moving but, with a sharp shove to the side from a particularly scruffy man, hurridly began again.

“Keep ya head on miss, this’al all be worth it wen’ its’ over.” He whispered. Instantly images of soft silk and rich food filled Saoirse’s mind and the risk loving, far more impulsive, side of her took over. Clutching her crossbow, and still crouched behind three other agitators, Saoirse quite willingly followed their lead as they scaled the hill and, now yelling some obscure battle cry, seiged the guarded entrance of the Tor.

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

(OOC: Could I please make a hide check to see if the caravan saw us approaching?)

"The name is Priestess Garreth of St. Cuthbert. I am not to be referred to as 'woman' again, we clear?" She shot back at him with a snarl. Using the word 'woman' seemed very insulting to her, it was generic and rude. But she wasn't about to start a fight about it. Watching the man attempt to start a fire was poor enough. Watching the man try to make a fire while she had one near the brewing food... that was being heated by a fire was astonishing. Was the man so thick that he couldn't even see fire?

She outright ignored him when he asked her for mother's stew. Was he drunk? She couldn't smell the liquor on his breath with the meal in full blast of her senses. There was dry timber and wood in the caravan, but not like she was going to tell him that. He should of noticed the others doing the same... She glared at him, giving him a look to try and deter him from getting closer to her and the food she was cooking.

Her sense of others was not concentrated at all. People were shifting around, coming in and out, and this huge man was now bothering her.

"Sir, how about you ask the merchant or druid over there." She points to them, away from her. Her voice a bit softer now. "I don't want you to accidentally spill the food."

***

OOC: DMs call if I did an intimidate. With the last sentence, trying a Diplomacy check (+4) against Necrolegion. Just with the rain and all, I will assume I can't hear the battle cries. (Will edit if I do.)

Several hundred meters away, on the other side of the tor that the caravan had crossed, a figure in the distance seemed to speed at not exactly a remarkable rate towards the hillside. Multiple times it would be seen, if any had tried to observe, almost slipping on the sloshing grass and muddy ground. Hovering around its head-- if it was that-- was a black, flittering object approximately a foot long. It had what could be approximated as 'wings', even from a distance such as that from the apex of the tor, although they were not very well visible in the foggy, rainy air of the forest. The left side of the figure had a slight bulge underneath its clothing, as though there was something beneath; however, the outlines were not clear enough to be seen well. The distance between the top of the tor and the figure decreased to three hundred meters, two hundred meters... one hundred...

Suddenly, it stopped, and the head-shape angled up, towards the Tor, as though he had seen something peculiar up there. Evidently he had, as his bearing swiftly changed. He took off at a slower rate, and kept looking back and all around him. The winged object had since taken roost upon his left shoulder.

[OOC: I'm taking an unskilled Spot check to see the caravan's people. I believe I get a bonus due to the familiar being in arm's reach; someone correct me if I do not.]

Tanya thanked Elros for being allowed into the shelter, the young woman grateful to be out of the storm. The stone structure that the caravan was camping out in piqued her curiosity, and Tanya immediately crossed the stone edifice to the door directly across from the entrance. She looked at it curiously, then turned back to Elros.

"Excuse me, sir," she asked, "but what lies beyond this door? Has anyone recently explored it?"

Mugan sighed irritably. His Mistress's curiosity was always getting them into trouble, and the raven was getting rather tired of it.

The Dungeon Master to LidenZarroc: The Hide check for the Bandits was successful, the caravan did not see you move into position, however, the guards outside were fully aware of you once the bandits yelled. The bandit NPCs are now under my control, so I'll roleplay them a bit. I assumed there were four of them.
The Dungeon Master to Ponats: Check the post in the OOC for information about your diplomacy check against Necrolegion.
The Dungeon master to Rigel Lake: You were unable to see any signs of life, but at the far end of the Tor you can make out the slight hint of shelter, which you are starting to think might be desperately needed.
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Conversation, laughter, cooking food, and the muffled sound of thunder, and rain are heard from inside the Tor. The few merchants of the caravan talk back and forth, their wares sitting on the floor. Everyone is happy to have quickly gotten to this shelter, and to be out of the rain.

Those outside in front of the entrance to the Tor, Loche Stratien the Monk, Saoirse the Rogue and bandit, Elros the Duskblade (Unless he accompanied Tanya inside, and Tolgen the Druid, feel the increased pressure of the wind, and the now torrential downpour of rain. (Do not misunderstand Torrential, what I mean by torrential is almost blinding rain, harsh, fast, heavy rain.) How they could manage to stay outside in this storm, was beyond any mere mortal's comprehension.

The bandit group, shouting war cries, and raising their weapons charged. The storm continuing about them, they attempt to attack those guarding the entrance. The lightning had been striking far away from the Tor, up until now. As one rather unintelligent bandit rose his kukri and handaxe into the air, a single bolt of lightning flashes from the top of the cloud, connects with his curved blade, sending electricity flowing through his body and into the ground. The impact of the lightning, combined with the wind knocks everyone outside of the Tor violently to the ground. The electricity of the lightning spread to two of the other bandits around the one hit, severely injuring them.
---
The Dungeon Master: The lightning bolt instantly killed the dual-wielding bandit. Both of the other two bandits hit by the electricity were knocked unconscious, the water that soaked their bodies did little to help them.
---

As soon as the lightning bolt struck the now dead man, everyone felt the increased power of the storm. The wind grew to speeds that threatened to knock characters down, but the side of the Tor, the side Denford Corixson the Wizard would be traveling down, was protected somewhat by the wind. However, no where was safe from the rain, the now thunderstone (Approximately golf-ball size) sized hail, and the now very dangerous lightning. The only place that offered the protection needed from this storm was the Tor.

The remaining bandit, a human, is now deafened by the lightning, and as he clambers to his feet walks about aimlessly. He could be killed easily, or just as easily helped inside. Saoirse is slightly deafened, but escaped much of the damage of the lightning bolt. The bandit attack has apparently failed.

Denford Corixson, who is some distance away from the entrance of the Tor, is able to see the lightning bolt hit near the entrance of the Tor. But he can see of no other place to go for shelter than where the lightning bolt hit. Perhaps the old saying "Lightning never strikes in the same place twice" will be of some comfort to him.

Those inside the Tor feel the effects of the lightning bolt, and notice that the noise from the rain, hail, and wind grow louder. The wind coming through the entrance threatens to even put out their few fires; the fires flicker viciously, but remain burning.

---
The Dungeon Master: The storm has now reached what is near its peak, and according to Tolgen's assessment of the weather: it will remain like this for some hours. The remaining bandit is approximately 20 feet from the entrance of the Tor, and Saoirse is 25 feet. Each character outside was knocked down, even the Monk, and so must first stand to their feet before acting. The winds also threaten to knock you down, but they are not yet powerful enough to blow you away. The bandit who was directly struck by lightning is a lost cause, and you can tell this just by glimpsing at his blackened, burnt corpse. The other two, however, may be saved if they were drug inside and tended to, or they may die either way.