Tuesday, October 30, 2007

4.2nd.9.842 A.T.E. - Arrival at Ragnarok

I am not sure which human came up with this system of organizing time, but it could use a serious restructuring. Today was a peculiar day to say the least.

To start with, as I neared Ragnarok, I met two people I recognized from the caravan. One was a guard and the other a merchant, though at a simple glance it would be difficult to tell which was which. The first was Asmodean, a monster of a man, if he could be called that. This eight-foot-tall, earthy, grey-skinned person calls his kind goliaths. These goliaths must not be particularly common, whatever they are, and if they are as foul tempered and random as this one is, I am relieved. I disagree with him on a few beliefs, but I will get into that later. Also, though he is apparently an outdoorsman, I do not know that I would trust his wilderness survival skills. I’m not certain what he had eaten, but all day his mouth and teeth have been pitch black. I am certainly glad I avoided that particular vegetation. Though he seemed to become quite taken to the other survivor very quickly, he was not so generous with his friendship towards me, and immediately accused me of doing a poor job of protecting the caravan (which, as we have previously determined, was no fault of my own).

Speaking of the other one, he is a human named Max. I do not know much about him either, other than he was a guard. He is tall for a human, at approximately six feet, and also rather large, though not particularly strong or fast. I am not certain how he managed to convince himself he was a decent warrior. He wears a chain shirt and wields a spear. Other than that, there is not much to say other than he seems a little aggressive. He mostly kept to himself the whole day though. I think I will keep my military background and current criminal status from these two as long as possible, I do not think it would be wise to give them incentive to turn me into the authorities, because they might just do so for whatever reward is posted. Though, after receiving that reward, they might get drafted almost immediately afterwards, but I do not trust that they would be bright enough to come to that realization.

The three of us entered the town of Ragnarok later that afternoon, and its name certainly appeared to be most appropriate. The streets have been mostly empty and almost all of the windows are boarded up, this is obviously a dying town. When we arrived, a nice old man saw us and approached Asmodean. Why he chose to talk to that man, I am not certain. The old man, who never gave us his name, welcomed the goliath to the town of Ragnarok, while hacking and coughing all over him. The goliath quickly got impatient with the man and started counting down from five. I am not certain what Asmodean would have done if he had gotten to zero, and I don’t want to know, but fortunately I was able to redirect the old man’s attention towards myself. While I was talking to the old man, I saw a child, who could have been no older than twelve, sneak up behind Max and steal his money bag. Max remained unaware, but Asmodean was not.

Before I could do anything, the old man also ran off, and Asmodean drew the crossbow off of his back. I suppose now would be a good time to describe Asmodean’s weapons. He carries what could best be described as a giant’s hammer. This hammer was so large, that I doubt an ogre would be unable to wield it properly. The Crossbow could probably have been better described as a ballista. The goliath shot at the culprit with his weapon, impaling the poor child against a building. I was appalled, and luckily the old man was around a corner before the monster could reload his siege weapon. Asmodean didn’t bother to question why the child was stealing money from us, and resorted directly to violence. For all we know, the child could have been stealing to feed his family, which looking at the state of this town, is the likely reason. Luckily, as grey elves, my family never had monetary issues. But if placed in a similar situation, I would have taken the same course of action. Though, to be fair, I would not have targeted a group containing a giant man with a SIEGE ENGINE strapped to his back! So, with the child’s obviously low intellect, the results might have been a foregone conclusion regardless of the outcome of this particular encounter.

Now, given that the town was practically deserted, I chose to head towards the best location to find people, the nearest inn. The tavern, called Joseph’s Tavern, was closed, with a sign posted to the door that proclaimed that whoever wished to own the tavern could claim it. For some reason unbeknownst to me, Asmodean was quick to remove the sign and claim the tavern as his own, an odd choice for a trapper and loner. He was quick to offer his favorite companion Max a free room and free drinks. The goliath was just as quick to offer me a room for one night, at the cost of a gold piece. I managed to get the room for a few silver, and got the keys. I decided it wasn’t worth drinking in this establishment at the moment, since I was suspicious of the circumstances surrounding the taverns vacancy. I tied Vadania to the railing near the inn, as far from that goliath’s beast as possible, and left to wander around town.

I discovered in my conversations with the locals that the town was diseased. Many of the town’s citizens have died or left, and there were very few remaining in Ragnarok. This once again proves I was right about the name. If I was mayor of this city, my first order of business would be to choose a new name for the town, one that wasn’t just begging for destruction. This is like naming a tavern “Property Damage” or an alchemy shop “Bomb’s Away”.

Upon returning to Joseph’s Tavern, I discovered that Asmodean had been quite busy. To start with, the town militia was carting away dead bodies from the streets, obviously dropped from open windows of the inn. I initially thought it might be best to quickly gather my belongings and leave, but fortunately I found that the pile of bodies were not caused by our large friend, or at least not from anything more vile than cleaning out the rooms. While in the tavern, I just sat around, not talking with Max a little while Asmodean busied himself upstairs. At some point, a man we discovered was the captain of the militia entered the tavern. He also had with him the old man from before. This man had the audacity to me of murdering his son. This was a blatant lie, since I had absolutely nothing to do with the child’s death, and because the child was most definitely not the man’s son, though possibly his grandson. I quickly pointed this out, naming Asmodean as the killer. Asmodean, when he came down, denied the whole thing, or claimed it to be justice, I do not recall. In doing so, he managed to get the captain to doubt the old man’s story, and to convince the old man to just walk away.

The Capitan, after the old man left the premises, stated that the owner of the inn was found dead, along with every other person who had stayed here. For this reason, he claimed that reopening the inn was a bad idea. I decided it was in my best interest to leave Joseph’s Inn and stay at a different one, not wishing to risk death. I also took Vadania to a proper stable rather than leave her out to die of disease, or to be assaulted by Asmodean’s mount. I ended up at this inn, the Try Again Inn, a horribly named inn might I add. I negotiated the asking price of a room down to three silver. I also ordered some fine wine from the barmaid several times, though she managed to forget my order. The bartender did not appreciate me calling the barmaid slow, since she was apparently his daughter. However, I managed to talk my way into getting my drink for free and having him apologize for his daughter’s stupidity. Unfortunately, the rooms here are not well suited for training, so I will have to do so in the morning after my meditation.

Xanatos Valarian: Character Sheet

Male Grey Elf Warblade 6
Age: 120
Height: 5' 6"
Weight: 130 lbs
Hair: Gold
Eyes: Purple

HP: 84 (6d12+12)
AC: 21; ff 19; touch 12
Speed: 20 feet
BAB/Grapple: +6/+8
Attack: +1 longsword +9/+4 melee (1d8+2, 19-20/x2) OR Composite Shortbow +8/+3 ranged (1d6, x3) OR Boomerang +8 ranged (1d4+2 nonlethal, x2).
Special Attacks: Maneuvers, Battle Ardor
Special Qualities: Low-Light Vision, Elf Awareness, Uncanny Dodge, Battle Clarity, Weapon Aptitude.
Skills: balance +10, concentration +11, diplomacy +12, handle animal +6, intimidate +8, jump +2, knowledge (local) +7, listen +2, ride +9, search +6, sense motive +9, spot +2, tumble +10
Feats: Martial Study (Crusader Strike), Martial Stance (Martial Spirit), Ironheart Aura, Adaptive Style
Saves: Fort +7, Ref +8, Will +2 (+2 vs. Enchantment).
Abilities: Str 14, Dex 15, Con 14, Int 18, Wis 10, Cha 12.

Maneuvers Known (4 readied):
Moment of Perfect Mind, Steel Wind, Crusader Strike, Emerald Razor, Mountain Hammer, White Raven Tactics, Iron Heart Surge.

Stances Known:
Martial Spirit, Bolstering Voice, Punishing Stance.

Possessions (medium load): +1 longsword, Composite Shortbow, 20 arrows, 5 dragonsbreath arrows, 5 serpentongue arrows, 5 blunt arrows, boomerang, +1 breastplate, +1 heavy darkwood shield, boots of agile leaping, healing belt, chronocharm of the fateweaver, darkvision glasses (60 foot; works in magical darkness, true seeing?), lantern, crowbar, backpack, lamp oil x 3, 150 foot silk rope, grappling hook, chalk x 5, 76 gold.

Vadania: Light Warhorse; 33 hp
Military Saddle
Carrying Saddlebags with 15 dragonsbreath arrows, 15 serpenttongue arrows, 15 blunt arrows, 20 arrows,

3.2nd.9.842 A.T.E.

Well, a journal huh? I’ve contemplated writing my thoughts and activities down for some time. I am confident that many people in the years following my passing could learn from me, though I am not certain exactly what. I suppose it was just destiny that I happened to come across this nearly empty journal in the caravan. Since the owner had no use for it anymore, as he is now deceased, I decided it was fate that I should take it.

My loyal traveling companion Vadania and I are currently camping somewhere along the road, having escaped from that caravan, and I expect that we are the only survivors. It is a shame I couldn’t get the other guards to actually put up a fight, though I’m not sure it would have mattered against those creatures. I realized that victory was impossible, after loosing several guards, not even one of the beasts had fallen. There was only one viable tactical option available, and that was a full withdraw. Now here I am a few days later, headed towards the town of Ragnarok, which does not bode well. No town named after an apocalypse can be good, particularly if something there convinced the Imperial Military to withdraw its troops.

I suppose I should introduce myself, since you are reading all about my travels. I am Xanatos Valarian, Grey Elf, Expert Warrior, and Tactical Mastermind. Oh yes, I am also a wanted criminal, though I deem that title to be unwarranted. I will go into the specifics of it at some later date, but I must train and meditate now.

House Rules

This is a 3.5 D&D Campaign, and it uses a couple of modified rules.
-Max HP
-All Skills Class Skills for all classes
-No Initiative; PCs and NPCs just alternate; During your teams turn, you go in whatever order you wish.


Those are the only rules I can think of at the moment.

Introduction

This will be the In Character Journal of Xanatos Valarian. I will note a few important details first.

The journal, and the setting, use a horrible date system. 4.2nd.9.842 A.T.E. means the fourth day of the second week of the ninth month of the year 842 A.T.E. (After Terian Empire).
The setting information is Here.

At the beginning of the journal, Xanatos Valarian is a 4th level Grey Elf Warblade. I will post his character sheet in not too long.