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Thread: [IC 3] Blood in Snow

  1. #1
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    Default [IC 3] Blood in Snow

    The party has traveled for two days. A day ago the ground began to take on an incline. Soon, the wildlife and vegetation began to look different. The already-cool wintertime air took on a more bitter chill. As the party hikes higher and higher, the beginnings of snow start to appear, here and there in high spots at first but soon it's everywhere. It's the worst part of a mountain to get caught in a blizzard, and unfortunately that's exactly what befalls everyone.

    Like nature itself has a bone to pick with everyone, the clouds roll in within minutes and a nasty wind arrives, bringing harsh snow with it. The air, now charged with snow, grows almost too cold to bear, and the wind howls severely through the tall conifer trees. Far ahead, the dim lights of a small village flicker invitingly toward you through the thickening flurries. The captain, plodding at the head of the party, switches direction toward the lights. "Come on!!" he yells, barely audible over the noise of the storm. "We have to get to shelter!!"

    As you enter the town, the snow falls thicker, in large, pillowy flakes. A sudden chill runs through you like cold steel, but as quickly as it came, the chill passes. The streets are barren. Nary a footprint or carriage track marks the deepening shroud of snow over this silent town. Bringing up the rear of the party, Eldon and Ravewood trudge along, their heads bent to the ground like weary horses and their breath forming ghosts of moisture in the frigid air.

    Though the shutters of every house are secured against the night, here and there light spills between the shutter slats, casting prison-bar shadows upon the drifting snow. Ahead, a creaking wooden sign bears weathered lettering - Brumaldale Inn.

  2. #2
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    At some point, Damian had grabbed his Blanket from his pack and wrapped it around himself. It wasn't good enough... he was shivering... violently.

    Walking behind Alec, trying to use him as a wind break ... Damian spots the sign for the Inn.

    "Gods man, to the Inn.... before we freeze to death" every word was uttered with chattering teeth. Somehow he finds the burst of energy to will his limbs to move faster. Caution thrown to the wind with the desperate need to get out of this weather.
    Corn can’t expect justice from a court composed of chickens.

  3. #3

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    Yuenni had never been truly cold before.

    The thought struck her as incredible, really. Yes, she had faced winter storms...but always with a warm home and hearth to return to whenever she wished. True, she'd felt the bitter bite of the wind...but she'd always been within shouting distance of shelter in such moments.

    But this? This endless hiking through snowdrifts, feeling as well as hearing the perpetual howl of the winds whipping all about? This was a numbing, biting cold unlike any she'd ever felt.

    So no quips, no arguments...but, to her credit, no complaints either. With a quiet prayer frozen on her purpled lips, the cleric nodded gratefully at Damian's words when the inn came into view.



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    Alec, seeing how weary his troops are, gazes upward at the darkening sky. Night will be here soon, and it will only grow colder then. He stares at the sky for several minutes. You figure he's trying to gauge the severity of the deepening storm.

    He looks back to the party. "Well, there is nothing else we can do except enter the inn and wait out the storm."

    As you walk up to the front door of the inn, the stairs shake and rusted nails moan beneath the tread of your feet. The doorknob, however, turns silently and the hinges whisper as the door opens, spilling warm light into the night. You stamp inside and close the door. A small fire burns lazily in a large hearth on the right side of the room. The flames cast dancing shadows across the bleak, tan walls. To the left, a worn set of stairs leads up to the second floor. A man, apparently the inn's proprietor, sits in an oversized rocking chair, smoking a stale-smelling pipe. Though his tunic is blotches by years of tobacco (and other unidentifiable) stains, you can tell it had once been white. Several tables and chairs stand in the path between you and the innkeeper.

  5. #5

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    "Th-th-thank th-th g-g-g-g-g-godss," Yuenni stammers, blue-lipped and rubbing her hands together.



  6. #6
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    Damian makes haste for the fireplace. The cold had brought out the purple/bluish tint of his Drow blood.... he just hopes that everyone assumes all half-elves turn that lovely shade of colour when so cold.

    He throws off the wet and frozen blanket that he had been using as a form of cover and stands shivering pathetically in front of the hearth.
    Corn can’t expect justice from a court composed of chickens.

  7. Default

    Gallant grits his teeth against the blizzard, but keeps any complaints he has to himself. The fire within him, coursing through his veins spurred on by the nature of his heritage, will keep him warm enough. Either way, he wastes no time heading into the inn. Before moving towards the fire he scans the room to make sure it's safe.
    Authentic Forum Dice-rollGallant Perception - (1d20+2) (9) [11]

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    Gallant notices that Damien has turned a darker color all over, a stark contrast to the innkeeper, who is nearly as pale as the snow outside. Other than that, Gallant doesn't see anything out of the ordinary here. Everything looks safe.

    The innkeeper lazily stands. "Caught in the white maw of winter, were we? Well, come on in and thaw out your eyelashes. I'm Dante Lysin, and this is the Brumaldale Inn. You're all welcome to stay. If you've got coin, that is."

  9. #9
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    Convinced his ears will break off if he touches them, Damian merely continues to hog as much of the fireplace as he can while contemplating getting closer to the tiefling than is polite.... since it was no secret that the hellfires still kept their blood hot.

    He drags his thoughts back to the present.

    "My good sir, please some hot food and something strong to drink it down with would be greatly appreciated. Also perhaps some warm" he looks at his nearby soggy cast off item... "and dry blankets as well as a comfy bed to rest upon. This place is truly a miracle for us to have found. Another hour or two outside and we would be there until spring .... and considerably less alive for it".

    His stomach gives a loud rumble as if to give credence to his words.
    Last edited by Scymon; 10-14-2019 at 12:08 AM.
    Corn can’t expect justice from a court composed of chickens.

  10. #10
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    "Aye, we have all that," Dante says while staring off into space, "but I'll be needin' to see somethin' shiny first. Nothin' personal. Just the rules of business."

    "No offense taken," Captain Alec says, approaching Lysin at his counter. "Here. I'll pay for the entire group myself. I'm the one that got us all caught in the damned blizzard and it's the least I can do. I'd like to purchase a stay in a private room for each one of us. And whatever else they ask of you."

    "Excellent," Dante replies. "Six rooms with hot evening meals beforehand. I'll get to work on that."

    Gold coins change hands and then Dante brings out a hot bowl of meat stew for each of you, with some warm cider to drink. Anyone who would like to leave their wet, cold clothing behind is given sleeping pajamas with the inn's name embroidered on them, with the assurance that all clothing will be clean and dry by the morning. After everyone is full on food and drink, Alec recommends that, even though it's still a little early, everyone should just go up to their rooms now and get them situated before going to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a big day if the party has to trek through this much snow on the way down the mountain.

    As you ascend the stairs to your rooms, the second floor hallway becomes darker with every step. The candle that Alec holds casts only a dim, flickering light into the dusky hall. He guides you one by one to your rooms and waits with the candle until you can light a lamp. Each room is furnished with a single bed and a dresser with an attached porcelain wash basin. Two cobwebbed candle sconces hang upon the walls, each holding five withered, wine-colored candles. An even layer of dust coats everything. You get the impression that the inn entertains few guests, though you did notice that a few of the door in the hallway were already closed, so you are the only ones staying here tonight.

    The beds are comfy and they have sheets and pillows, though they don't seem particularly fresh. The dressers have nothing in them except a few dust-choked cobwebs in the bottom drawers. The husks of dead flies, earwigs, and the webs' deceased tenants lie tangled in the once-sticky strands. You may perform whatever tasks you wish before going to bed.

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