Klaverjassen

[swrider]

The city was easy to find. Peasants, farmers, merchants and people off all status were migrating to the city. Carts filled with the first crops of the harvest, wares off all sorts and nearly entire families were all headed their. The first harvest had just been completed and it was time for the harvest festival. The largest celebration of the year. The excited travelers were more than happy to help you find the city and explain the wonders of the festival. It was a time of pleasant and a time of thanks giving to the great god Pelor, patron of the kingdom and the city. This year was particularly special the harvest festival was to last from dawn until the rising of the blood moon. The soon to be completed Temple of Light would be dedicated in the morning, bringing great prestige, wealth, and favor to the city. It was rumored that it would even have a teleportation circle bringing in the elite and wealthy from throughout the kingdom and beyond to purchase the local harvest.

The excitement of the locals kept you going, though the reality may have been underwhelming. As you approach the city you realize it to be quite small and new, only a century or two old.

The first walls you encounter were made of wood and did not even have a standing guard.

The second interior set were much better made of magnificent stone and surrounded the temple, government buildings, market, marinas, and mansions. The outer section housed the peasant and merchant classes and contained a few scattered markets tailored to them.

The city itself while underwhelming at least promised a kind population, or so you thought. The sound of a galloping horse made you turn your head. Just in time it seems as you are nearly run over by a single horseman wearing a armor with the logo of the city and a sun symbol.

The locals explain he is a member of the Order of the Sol, the protectors and religious leaders of the kingdom. It is uncommon for them to behave in such a manner.

[kanila]

Meddaar was just looking at a flute when he was nearly trampled. According to the locals this was odd behavior for the cities Protectors. Placing the flute back on the table he thought it best to follow after the horse and rider to see what was going on. He could always go shopping later, whatever was happening was more interesting after all.

[swrider]

Normally following a horseback rider on foot would prove quite difficult. However with the massive throngs of people filing the streets the rider was greatly slowed. Winding through the streets the rider takes his horse up the stairs towards the entrance of the still underconstruction temple of light.


The beauty of the temple catches Meddar's eye for a moment fore a loud thud draws his gaze back towards the rider. The figure had fallen from his horse and now lies on the side walk. Blood reflects the sunlight causing an eerie glistening and a small puddle begins to form on the ground. A call for help comes from the temple and a robed figure runs to the protectors side. The fallen soldier holds up a scroll, to the robed figure who originally puts it to the side. Words seem to be exchanged and the robed figure unrolls the scroll and rushes back into the temple. Within moments new figures flock out to tend to the wounded individual and his steed.

[kanila]

Rushing to the fallen soldier he attempted to make his way to help. "How can I be of assistance?" Surely there was something he could do to help. If someone was injured he wanted to be able to assist them.

[swrider]

Thank you stranger, our best healer is inside and we will you help us lift him?

[kanila]

"Of course." Meddaar bent down to help lifted the wounded soldier. He wondered what they would use to heal this injured person. If he could get his hands on some herbs he could mix something up.

[swrider]

Spoiler:

You are on the front porch. grid 16 x 16

Together they move the wounded soldier into the temple. In the front entray way numerous workers are about finishing walls, florring and other features. Another human rushes towards you as you set the soldier down on a table. Cleared by one of the workers.

"Pelors blessing be upon you. This may be beyond my skill. He turns to the monk that moved the soldier in. "Trom, Sir Shor-Tay is inside with Lord Larimore. Please fetch him quickly.

Spoiler:

Total: 16
Character: Healer
Campaign:
Description:
Bonus: 5
1D20= 11
indivdiual rolls: 11
images:

The new arrival quickly pulls of the soldiers armor and equipment and pulls rags from a small bag bandaging the wounds. After a few moments the bleeding stops.

"The bleeding has stopped, he is stable. He will remain unconscious for some time though without aid greater than mine. Thank you for your help, stranger. I am Unten Dahega.[color]

[kanila]

Meddaar bowed his head. "I am just glad I was of assistance. I am Meddaar Vampor, a traveling monk seeking enlightenment. If you'd like I could mix up a Potion of Healing as long as you have the ingredients. That way if their are any other injuries you will have something readily on hand."

[swrider]

The acolyte examines Meddaar closely for a moment. The other wounded are in the field. Our troops could utilize you assistance, but I must speak with our remaining cleric first. Where can we find you?

[swrider]

As them men are speaking the loud footsteps of a heavily armed individual echo through the large stone building. Glancing in its direction a two and half foot tall halfing dressed in full plate mail with a shield and mace slung over his back comes rushing from the interior of the temple.


He comes to the table and looks up seeing only the arm of the soldier flopped over the side. "If the arm is all that is left, There is nothing I can do. If not please lower him to ground."

[kanila]

Lowering the wounded Soldier to the cold stone floor, Meddaar watched the tiny Paladin set to work. The loud footsteps made it seem as if he were 6 feet tall rather than less than 3!

[swrider]

The paladin lays his hands on the head of the soldier issuing a small prayer inaudible to the others. The wounds on the soldier heal slightly and he regains consciousness. "He will still need rest. We should get him back to the barracks." Nodding in agreement Unten addresses the soldier "What hapend out there?". The soldier looks around. "Everything is in the note. I was attacked by wolves on my way back while watering the horse. Most of this damage is from them. Read the note, I'll be ready to go in just a few minutes.".

[kanila]

Being a mere outsider in this whole ordeal Meddaar just stands there taking everything in. It wasn't his place to intrude after all. But if they needed his aid he would gladly help.

[swrider]

"You are in no condition to go anywhere. If it is urgent I will go in your stead." Unten calls over several of the workers giving them instructions to take the soldier to the barracks and ensure he rests. "The message is urgent, but also encoded. I will need some time to decode what it says. I have sent for Cleric Bersk. He is the only cleric in the city at the moment and the decision will be his. It will undoubtedly require help from the way the messenger was acting. Where can I find you Sir Shor-Tay and Meddaar?"

[kanila]

"I will be in the market. I shouldn't be too hard to spot." He bowed his head once more to the Acolyte and Paladin before turning to leave the newly raised building.

Heading back towards the market he had a few things to get. He had been longing to find a flute since he left his monastery, second on the list of things to get was a new pouch, and finally if he could find the ingredients at a decent price the stuff he would need to make potions. More than likely his meager savings wouldn't be able to cover the full amount he would need to make a Potion of Healing but he's had to try.

[awarren]

Spoiler:

edited to add image~swrider.

Cleric Grigor Bersk is walking slowly through the catacombs beneath the Temple of Light. He is inspecting the quality of workmanship, ensuring the dead are given proper respect when laid to rest here. He finds the symbols of Pelor are finely crafted and the catacomb structure appropriately resilient. He kneels at the alter to dedicate the catacombs to Pelor and prepare them for use. Before he can start his prayer he hears loud clattering foot steps and looks up to see acolyte Trom. He urgently requests Cleric Bersk return to the main Temple and speak with Unten.

"Very well, I shall accompany you."

Cleric Bersk proceeds to make his way to upstairs with Trom.

[swrider]

Spoiler:

You are at the top right corner table. grid 16 (right)x 12 (left)

The acolyte leads the cleric up the spiral stair case to the small room at the front of the temple, near the main altar. The acolyte begins to move through the temple before spotting Unten heading up the stairs to the upper library and archive levels. Taking the nearby staircase the two move along through past the many tables and book shelves interspaced with large windows with various colors of glass displaying scenes from the orders past and Pelor's teachings. The find Unten sitting in a secluded section reserved only for members of the order. One scroll was laid out on a table before him which he appeared to be transcribing onto another. The Senior Acolyte and healer did not seem to notice the approaching figures.

[awarren]

Cleric Bersk addresses Unten: "Unten, what is going on? The catacombs are completed and I was about to dedicate them."

[swrider]

"I am afraid that will need to wait. I just decoded this scroll brought to us by one of our messengers."

To: Cleric Bersk-Grave Keeper.
The Enemy has been repelled and are headed back to the coast line. They still threaten and kills those along their paths and we are in pursuit. The battle has cost many lives and created many wounded. Our ability to heal has been extended beyond Pelor's blessings this day. Their was insufficient time to reclaim the bodies of our fallen lest the enemy lay waist to the populations. Send forth a party to collect our fallen and return them to the city. Come armed, many dangers await in these woods and a darkness is spreading from the old city. Have the acolytes research the abandoned necroplypse as I fear something is amiss to be investigated at a latter time. Make haste and may Pelor Bless your journey.

Lord Feden Ristan,
High Priest of the City of Klaverjassen.
Order of Sol.

[kanila]

As he walked back to the market he reached into his pocket and counted his gold. Only 5 gp, well maybe he would just get the flute and a pouch. He didn't have nearly enough gold to get what he needed for the potion.

Finally arriving back at the market he slowly pressed his way through the throng of patrons. With the coming festival the city saw an increase in vendors and merchants of all kinds. Making his way back to the original vendor where he was looking at the flute when the Soldier had passed through.

Holding up the flute, that by some miracle was still there, he turned to the vendor. "This is a beautiful piece, how much?" "Hmm that's 2 gp. I hand carved it myself." Reaching into his pocket he produced the 2 gp with a toothy grin. Gently placing the flute in his backpack he sought out a pouch. Made with leather, the pouch only cost him 5 sp.

Seeing as he found the items he wanted he looked for an open spot to sit. Sitting at a table that was outside the tavern on the edge of the market he waited patiently for word from the Acolyte or to order a drink from the bar wench.

[swrider]

A homely looking human woman approaches carying a tray. Welcome to the Wailing Wench. We have Pelor's sunrise and Dragon ale on sale for 1cp a halfpint.

[kanila]

"Half pint of Dragon's Ale. And do you have any specials on food?" He wasn't sure how much time he had but a good meal before a journey was always a good idea.

[DeepSpacer]

Among the festival vendors and passerbys is a young man in robes with a staff and long, frizzled brown hair. He bellows out to the passing crowd...

"BE WARNED!!!!"
"TROUBLE AND TURMOIL WILL BE HERE SOON!"
"PREPARE FOR THE COMING WRATH!!!"

[swrider]

"Half pint of Dragon's Ale. And do you have any specials on food?" He wasn't sure how much time he had but a good meal before a journey was always a good idea.

The waitress hands over a menu.

"The fancyman's feast is 15 silver, the commoners feast is 15 copper silver, scones are 5 copper, everything else is 3 silver. Most beverages are 3cp a half pint 5 cp a pint, with the exception of today's sale"

[swrider]

Among the festival vendors and passerbys is a young man in robes with a staff and long, frizzled brown hair. He bellows out to the passing crowd...

"BE WARNED!!!!"
"TROUBLE AND TURMOIL WILL BE HERE SOON!"
"PREPARE FOR THE COMING WRATH!!!"

A small crowd gathers around the doomsayer, some for entertainment some to heckle, and some to listen. A group of teenagers start to mock loudly "Ohh the blood moon is coming, the blood moon is coming. The world is going to end. Magic will cease, and the dead will walk to consume funny men in long robes! Beware ye! beware ye! Doom, Doom, Bubble and Troubble!