Play by Post D&D: The New Begining

[Glitch Girl]

This is currently a closed game.  If you wish to ask questions or comment, please use the OOC thread located here  Players post what you want to do, I will be resolving all actions, so try not to get ahead of me either in case I can't get on.  We'll more or less be using 3.5 D&D system, except when it gets in the way of game flow.  Trust me, I'm no rules lawyer and prefer to let things be fun and cinematic over mechinics-driven. 

And now... on with the show...

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

Welcome to the Pit of Despair.

At least, that's what the sign over the tavern door said.  It's hard to say if this was an attempt at humor by the owner or part of a deeper story, no one is really sure. All you are sure of is that at least it's dry... well mostly dry.

Outside the storm continues to rage, hail rattling against the wooden walls.  Dark clouds and heavy downpour have turned midday into blackest night.  Violent storms like this are not uncommon for this region, but this is easily the worst you've seen, and even the heartiest of men (or women) are forced to find shelter against the stinging ice and driving rain. 

..which is why the clientele of this inn is far from standard.  There's a tension in the air as old animosities are temporarily set aside while everyone waits out the storm.  Most of the visitors are quiet, minding their own business, except for a pair of halflings sharing a brew and some really bad jokes about various bodily functions.  They seem to know the barkeeper personally, a positively amazonian human woman with black hair and tanned skin.  She's dressed in basic work leathers and an old stained apron and though you think you heard her complain about being short handed, she seems to be taking care of the customers without much trouble.  She pauses by the fire where a priest, barely old enough to be ordained, is ministering to a pale man lying unconscious on a small cot that's been dragged in so as to be as close as possible to the heat.  Both are still damp from being outside recently.

The young priest looks up from ministering to his charge and asks her for some water for himself.

Elsewhere in the room, an elf dressed in fine traveling clothes and his companion look down their noses at a trio of orcs at the table next to them who don't seem to notice, and probably wouldn't care. 

And then, there's you.

What are all of you doing: describe yourself and what you're up to.

[Uncle Yuan]

Stepping in out of the rain, I take in the room for a brief moment, noting particularly the young priest and his charge.  Pulling off my cloak only causes more water to drip into my boots, which makes absolutely no difference in how wet my feet are. 

Elves are typically described using word like "svelte" and "fair."  I make it closer to "gaunt" and "pale."  This comes from too many years in hard study, followed by a long and trying war, followed by weeks of hard travel.  My equipment is standard elvish, and decidedly more less ornate than might be typical.  My hair is silvery white and held back by a plain wooden circlet.  As elves go, I'm pretty run-of-the-mill looking, although I have no idea how others would perceive me.

I hang my cloak as close to the fire as I can, nod to the table of elves, and cross over to the sick man and lay my hand on the young preist's shoulder.

"The peace of Corellon to you, brethren."  I say to the priest.  "Might I be of some assistance?"

[spoiler]Anything evident on quick glance?

We also need to discuss equipment.[/spoiler]

[BlueBard]

I am already in the tavern, as near to the fireplace as I can get to dry off.  I am tall for an elf, and strangely dressed in patchwork clothes of dark green and brown.  I have the brown hair (kept short) and faintly greenish complexion typical of a wood elf.  My boots are off, drying by the fire.  My green eyes are watchful, my expression neutral.

[spoiler]I've left my trained falcon on a rafter in the stables, and hidden my bow and arrows back in the hay as well as I can.  Anything else of value I have on me.[/spoiler]

I would almost rather spend the night out in the stables, but this is warm and dry.  Most of my attention is focused on the orcs; I generally expect them to be trouble and am rarely surprised to find them anything but.  Had I encountered them in the wood, it would have meant battle, but if our host sees fit to welcome them then I will be civil if I can.  I do not really expect to sleep in this place, though... it might be worth my life.

[BentonGrey]

As the silver haired elf comes through the door, those huddled inside the crude structure catch a momentary glance of a peculiar blue skinned elf standing, naked to to waist and with arms up-flung, staring into the sky.  He lets the freezing rain pelt his upturned face, and a peculiar smile creases his azure face.  After a few minutes pass, the stranger strides through the door, soaked through to the very bone and seemingly mindless of the fact.  His tired smile fades quickly at the sight of the crowded inn, and the feeling of unknown eyes on him.  He throws his sodden cloak about his strong shoulders, making his way for an empty spot in a corner, and although he moves with a haughty step, he avoids the eyes of those about him.  A longsword hangs at his side, a brilliantly worked hilt inlaid with gold and sea-green jewels glints above the plain, beaten leather of a worn sheath.  The slight gleam of the sword is the only mark of prosperity to be found in his guise, although his threadbare and patched cloak and garments bear the faded glory of fallen nobility.

[Glitch Girl]

Note to others: you may still choose to be inside the tavern as the action starts or you may do an entrance.  Either will still work at this point.


BlueBard, In your character's short time inside, you've learned that the amazonian woman's name is "Shalla", as the two halflings have called her by name. 

You are little surprised to see another traveler enter, a gaunt and pale looking elf to be exact.  The storm has driven in many so far, and the varried conversations in the room only pause for the briefest moment.  The stranger takes little notice of you, instead concerning himself with the unconscious human and his caretaker.  You are close enough to easily hear their conversation...

"The peace of Corellon to you, brethren."

"Blessings of Pelor on you as well," replies the young priest. 

"Might I be of some assistance?"

"If you can, good sir.  I found him on the road just after the storm broke.  He's hurt, I can't tell how bad and he kept muttering something, I couldn't make out what over the hail.  He's quiet now, but... I only know a little  bit of healing I'm afraid."

The door opens again, and this time conversation in the tavern stops dead as the doorway frames a half-naked blue-skinned elf apparently enjoying the freezing hail and heavy rain*.  He smiles until he seems to realize he's the center of attention and that smile crumbles a bit.  He quickly makes his way into an empty niche of the tavern.

"Well now," Shalla the tavern owner murmurs aloud.  She's obviously taking in the show with great interest.  Most of the rest of the taver however drifts back to their own business.

(* and making one heckuva entrance)

[Lord Elcorion]

((appears late)) the tavern door opens once more, and in steps a form shrouded in a heavy cloak, wrapped firmly around it's form, the hood pulled up over it'shead and shrouding it's face in shadow. the cloak makes it difficult to discern the race or even gender of the individual, who stands just over 5 feet tall. the figure moves to the bar, whispering low to the bartender, placeing a few coins on the table with a slender gloved hand, hinting at a feminine nature. she retrieves a mug of ale, and retreats to a far cornor, away from the others as much as possible. there is an air of "otherness" about her, a slightly sinister feel, suggesting this traveler holds far more secrets than one might think.

[Glitch Girl]

The cloaked figure's arrival goes almost unnoticed compared to the last entrance.  The bartender smiles and says in a quiet voice "Here you go Honey," in a maternal way as she hands her the mug. 

[Viking]

(*New Arrival*)

The tavern doors open once more as the latest traveler makes his entrance.  Ice and rain cling to well-tailored garments that seem ill-suited for such horrible weather.  The man pauses just after entering, taking a moment to softly sing a short but pleasant tune in a foreign tongue as he removes his plumed hat to shake the rain from it.

For those who care to watch, his hat seems strangely dry as he places it back atop his blonde head, and the plume is a bright and cheerful red instead of the sodden quill that it was upon entry.  A toothy smile splits his close-cropped, but well-groomed beard.

"Praise Fharlanghn to be in civilized shelter once more!" he exclaims heartily, striding towards the bar.  As he walks, the ice and rain seem to gradually melt away from his vestments, until it is clear that this human is dressed in a velvety plum surcoat and breeches with matching hat, with a red cloak across his shoulders.  A rapier can be seen hanging at his side, and a lute visibly protrudes from under the cloak.

He places some coins on the bar.  "A mug of warm cider, should you have it, fair lady," he requests courteously.  "Or ale if you don't - 'tis certainly nothing to quibble over."

Once he has received his drink, he'll find a table against a wall and take a seat there.  He'll unstrap his lute and start tuning it, occasionally pausing to take a swig from his drink.

[spoiler]Those with any inclination towards arcane spellcasting probably recognize that the man used a Prestidigitation spell upon entering - a minor cantrip that performs nifty helpful effects like cleaning or drying things, moving very light objects, or creating small showy visual effects.[/spoiler]

[Uncle Yuan]

"Might I be of some assistance?"

"If you can, good sir.  I found him on the road just after the storm broke.  He's hurt, I can't tell how bad and he kept muttering something, I couldn't make out what over the hail.  He's quiet now, but... I only know a little  bit of healing I'm afraid."

"Well, let me see what I can do." 

I place two long bundles against the wall - a long bow and quiver, and a spear, both wrapped thoroughly against the rain.  Doffing the cloak revealed a hauberk of fine chain mail covered by a bright blue tabard, blue leggings and sturdy, knee high walking boots, and a plain but very functional long sword.  (Oh, and the circlet is silver, not wooden as mentioned before.) I place my pack on the floor, and begin to examine the man.

[spoiler]So there's the basic equipment.  By the magic item rule, I figure the mail could be high quality "non-magical" elven mail.  What else he might have I'll leave to the GM's discretion - likely something of a healing or "buffing" nature.  The pack contains all the basics for  a long journey, with a goodly stock of healing herbs, salves, field medic kit and etc.  Let me know if any of this crosses the line

I don't have my character sheet with me, but when it comes to examining the man I know I have a pretty good healing skill.[/spoiler]

[Glitch Girl]

OOG: Yuan, let's do character and inventory stuff via pm if possible, please.

The elven priest kneels by the unconsicous man and begins to examine him.

Yuan:
[spoiler]The man appears to be suffering from exaustion and maybe a little dehydration too.  There are also signs of possible a cracked rib or two, not to mention a number of smaller bruises and cuts on hs body. He is completely unresponsive as well.[/spoiler]

By the time you make your diagnosis, the door opens to allow in another flambuoant traveler, this one obviously an entertainer of some sort, and versed in a little magic from the look of things.

"A mug of warm cider, should you have it, fair lady," he says to Shalla.  "Or ale if you don't - 'tis certainly nothing to quibble over."

"My... aren't you the charmer," she smiles back.  "'Fraid we're out of cider, but as for the ale, got some ofthe best this side of the valley."

She hands over the mug and he finds himself a spot in the common room.  The "twing-twing-twang" of his lute being tuned hangs in the air as he adjust the strings.  The table of orcs roll their eyes at the sound and one of them mutters something in orcish barely loud enough for the rest of the room to hear.

[spoiler=For those who understand Orc]"Ugh.  He's probably going to play 'Bird of Freedom'. I hate that song."[/spoiler]

Most of the other patrons ignore both the orcs and the entertainer for now and go back to their drinks and business.

[BlueBard]

I allow myself a slight ironic grin as I overhear the Orc's comment.

[Panther_Gunn]

As the banter and background noise of the tavern slips back into it's more natural rhythm, all conversation comes to a screeching halt, as a tortured, roar of a sound tears through the common room.  All eyes instantly turn towards the corner closest to the elves & the orcs.  The huge, lone, hooded figure, who had been lightly dozing previously, now has his head lolled back, mouth wide open, and patrons can scarcely hear each other over the full-throated snores that issue forth from that cavernous opening:

SNZZXZXZZZZZXXX ......... HHHXXXHHHHXHXXZZXZZZ ........ SNXXXZZSZZZZZXXXXX ......... HXXXZZZXXXXSHGXXKKK!

His head snaps up, amid sounds of reflexive choking & coughing.  From the dark brown skin tone, greasy, lank hair, and other obvious features, there's no mistaking this is some type of ogre!  With a neutral, somewhat confused look on his face, he slowly blinks his eyes clear, lips smacking.  His eyes pass over the orc table, the obvious look of a thought crosses his face, and he speaks:  "Og hungry."  His lips smack again, and then he speaks a bit louder, and in the direction of the bar: "Og want food!"

[Viking]

The entertainer gives a smirk of his own at the orc's comment, and finishes tuning his instrument.  He starts strumming a jaunty tune as he speaks clearly to the assembled tavern patrons:

"Fellow travelers, 'tis a cold and bleak night indeed.  Just as you may warm your hands by the hearth, and warm your bellies with ale, I have a song that may help to warm your spirits.  While many a tavern-goer might expect me to start with 'Bird of Freedom,' I find that song to be a bit too played out for this evening's entertainment.  This tune is a bit more low-brow, but quite enjoyable nevertheless..."

(*Song Lyrics*)

Beer, beer, beer, tiddly beer, beer, beer...

A long time ago, way back in history,
when all there was to drink was nothin' but cups of tea.
Along came a man by the name of Charlie Mops,
and he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops!

He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented
Beer, beer, beer, tiddly beer, beer, beer...

The Broken Mug, the Drunken Rat, the Hole in the Wall as well
one thing you can be sure of, its Charlie's beer they sell
so all ye lads a lasses, at eleven O'clock ye stop
for five short seconds, remember Charlie Mops.

One... Two... Three... Four... Five...

He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented
Beer, beer, beer, tiddly beer, beer, beer...

A barrel of malt, a bushel of hops, you stir it around with a stick,
the kind of lubrication to make your inside tick!
40 pints of wallop a day will keep away the quacks.
Its only eight pence hapenny and one and six in tax.

One... Two... Three... Four... Five...

He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented
Beer, beer, beer, tiddly beer, beer, beer...

The Lord bless Charlie Mops!

[BlueBard]

The elf in patchwork clothes merely shakes his head at the subject matter.

As soon as I can be heard again, I move closer to where they are tending the injured man.

"Will he mend?" I ask softly.

To GGGM:
[spoiler]Does it appear that the man was wounded?  As in, with a weapon?[/spoiler]

[Uncle Yuan]

I glance up at the Sylvian and reply in elvish, "He doesn't look too badly off.  Beaten, though."

The unconsciousness is a little odd given his level of injury.  I check carefully for head wounds.

I turn to the young priest.  "At a quick glance I would guess he was waylaid and left to the storm.  Did you see anyone about, or have any idea how long he had been laying there?"

[spoiler]Is he still dressed in wet clothes?  Any ID, belt, weapons, money or anything else of value?[/spoiler]

[Glitch Girl]

"Og hungry,"  says the huge figure off to the side, "Og want food!"

"Well, I hope Og likes rabbit stew or dried beef," Shalla says smirking, "'cause that's all we got right now."

Before Og can reply, the minstrel stands and begins his show.

"Fellow travelers," he says, addressing the patrons, "'tis a cold and bleak night indeed.  Just as you may warm your hands by the hearth, and warm your bellies with ale, I have a song that may help to warm your spirits.  While many a tavern-goer might expect me to start with 'Bird of Freedom'..."

The other two orcs snicker and elbow their companion.

"...I find that song to be a bit too played out for this evening's entertainment.  This tune is a bit more low-brow, but quite enjoyable nevertheless..."

The purple-clad performer begins a rousing song about beer.  Apparently the two halflings know it well, and sing along somewhere in the vicinity of "in tune" and banging their mugs along with the beat.  Shalla seems to be enjoying the song as well, and though the elf in fine traveling clothes obviously does not think much of the song, his apparent bodyguard smiles a bit at the tune.

By the fire, the two elves speak quietly about the wounded man.

Bluebard[spoiler]

Does it appear that the man was wounded?  As in, with a weapon?

The cuts appear to be caused by bramble or branch, not a blade.  You only see the bruise on his side for a moment before it's covered up by blankets again, but it appears to have been done by something large and blunt.

You haven't seen much out of the ordinary lately in this part of the woods, though there has been a certain uneasiness among the animals you couldn't quite put your finger on.[/spoiler]

Yuan[spoiler]

Is he still dressed in wet clothes?  Any ID, belt, weapons, money or anything else of value?

He's dressed only in pants, but there's a pile of damp linen near the fire that were probably his clothes.  There's a belt mixed in with the pile and a chain that might be a necklace.  Without searching it, you're not sure what else he's got[/spoiler]

"I found him not far from here alone," the young priest says as the bard continues to sing in the background, "I think he was trying to reach the road but never made it.  I carried him here as best I could... I hope I didn't make things worse. Um.. I don't know how long he'd been there.  He was as wet as I when I found him."

[Uncle Yuan]

I nod to the young priest.  "All right.  Would you speak to the bar mistress and see if there is a bed for him?  Even a bed in the dormitory would be acceptable.  Heated room would be best if there is one, though.  And blankets.  And hot water and soap."  I cut myself off with a dry smile before I burden him with a longer list.

"Oh, and my name is Orloid" I say, extending my hand in my best "introducing yourself to a human" style.

[BentonGrey]

As the rousing tavern song came to an end, the azure elf stired in his corner, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes hidden by the still dripping brim of his cloak.  Slowly a murmuring tune rose in his throat, reaching a quiet crescendo of soft and unearthly song, somehow akin to the murmur of waves on a rocky shore, but with the forlorn quality of a sea-bird's cry.  The strange song continued to waver through the air, just audible to those nearby as his keen eyes took in the denizens of this rough haven.  His gaze lingers on the aloof pair of elves, studying them closely.

[spoiler]Do I see anything interesting under careful observation?[/spoiler]

[Glitch Girl]

The young priest extends his hand to Orloid.  "I am Nathan, servant of Pelor, may he be belssed.  I'll see if I can arrange a real bed for him."

Nathan bustles off as the song ends to much cheering from both the Halflings and the Orcs.

And then, an unearthly sound rolls across the tavern, which seems to come from the blue-skinned elf. 

There's a pregnant pause.

It gives birth to a lot of little pauses.  You could hear a pin drop if it wasn't for the loud storm outside.

Viking [spoiler]Sounds like the blue elf was singing sea-elven.  You're not 100% sure since you've never had the chance to experience it before, but it fits everything you've heard prior.[/spoiler]

Benton[spoiler]One of the elves is dressed in fine, yet subdued cloths and metal armor that you can see peeking out from beneath his tabard and cloak.  He is well muscled with dark chestnut hair and an alert expression and seems to be keeping a watchful eye on most of the people  here.  His companion is dressed much finer, and is either nobility or at least rich.  He wears a simple brass (or possibly gold) circlet over his blond hair.  He looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here right now.  [/spoiler]

OOG: Don't get used to this idealic settng folks, plot train is headed your way, toot toot!  :D

[Viking]

The entertainer breaks the silence within the inn, addressing the blue-skinned elf.

"Well, I can't say I've ever heard that as a finale chorus to 'Beer, Beer, Beer,' but well sung, sir!"

The bard finishes his drink, and strides across the inn to join the brilliantly-hued elf, speaking to all the patrons as he walks.

"My repertoire is broad, my knowledge is vast, and I've been known to take requests!  So gift me with coin or a drink if you will, and I'll surely do my best."

Having reached the elf in the corner, the bard tips his hat in greetings.  He says something in elven:

To BentonGrey, and anyone else that speaks Elvish:
[spoiler]"Greetings, good sir.  May I join you?  I'd be all too happy to help dry your vestments in return for your conversation."[/spoiler]

[BlueBard]

To GM:
[spoiler]Do I recognize the song the blue-skinned elf sang?  Do I know what kind of elf he is?

Whisper studies all of the patrons carefully, looking for little things that would indicate what kind of a person they are, where they come from, anything out of the ordinary.[/spoiler]

The wood elf in the patchwork clothes appears briefly hesitant, staring first at the blue-skinned elf then slowly scanning the room.  He then turns to Orloid and speaks softly, reluctantly, in Elven.

To Orloid:
[spoiler]"I am called Whisper."  Glancing back at the injured man, he continues.  "He looks almost as if the forest itself attacked him with branch and thorn... or fled hastily through thick brush to escape something.  I can only guess.  But I have a feeling that something is not right."[/spoiler]

[Glitch Girl]

BB
[spoiler]you don't recognize the song, but you think he might be a sea elf, except that you've never heard of one this far inland ever.  Very strange[/spoiler]

[Panther_Gunn]

"Well, I hope Og likes rabbit stew or dried beef," Shalla says smirking, "'cause that's all we got right now."

"Stew good.  Og want stew."

[Uncle Yuan]

"Hm . . . well it's extremely difficult to break ribs by running yourself into a tree, Whisper.  Possible, but you'd have to be blind with fear.  I still think it looks like someone hit him with something heavy.  Ensorceled tree or brigand with a club, it makes little difference to him just now." I reply

I give the wood Elf a careful look over - does he look strong enough to carry this man upstairs?  I know I'm sure not!

[spoiler]Will he need magical healing, or does he look like he'll recover quickly enough with rest, warmth and care?[/spoiler]

[Glitch Girl]

Orloid
[spoiler]If that is a cracked rib, he will heal in a few a few weeks with proper care.  If it's only a bruise, then obviously much quicker.  He'll probably need at least a day or two to recover from the exhaustion and dehydration fully.

BTW: Whisper looks more than capable of carrying him.[/spoiler]

Shalla disappear briefly into the back and returns with a large pot of steaming broth with lumps in it that are probably meat, potatoes and carrots all cooked a uniform brown.  It smells pretty good though, if you like stew.  She reaches behind the counter and finds a LARGE bowl and begins to ladle the soup into it.

One of the halflings holds up a coin and yells to the Minstrel "Do you know 'The Maiden and the Trapper?'"

"With the GOOD lyrics!" his friend leers.

The door of the inn opens with a crash of thunder that had a sense of the dramatic.

Framed in the doorway is a huge man wrapped in an oilskin cloak to protect against the storm.  He unwraps the cloak as he enters, scattering bit of hail along the floor and revealing a set of dark platemail and chain, and a mane of dark hair that almost reaches his shoulders and merges with his thick mustache and beard.  He wears a simple chain necklace with a medallion of a white flame over black that is half hanging out from beneath his breast plate.  He carried a huge axe in his right hand.  As he enters, he is quickly flanked by a quartet of Hobgoblins who look around the room, sizing everyone up.

"Welcome to the Pit of Despair sir," Shalla says cheerily, "Where no one-

"I am seeking this man," he interrupts in a deep voice that is almost a growl  as he reaches into his pack and pulls out a scroll and unfurls it in front of everyone.  "You will tell me what you know and all will go well for you."  One of the Hobgoblins smirks wickedly at this remark.

There is a drawing on the scroll.  It's not a very good drawing but the face does look familiar.

Sort of like the wounded man by the fire.

[BentonGrey]

The azure skinned elf had enough time to nod graciously to the flamboyant bard and speak a word of welcome with a strange, rumbling accent that put one's mind to distant thunder, before the doors flew open in the strangers rude entrance.  As the human made his declaration the elf's cobalt eyes observed him without much entrance, until they fell upon the symbol on his chest.  A memory flashed through his mind, a mixture of rage and forlorn hope brought him to his feet.  His strangely rolling voice boomed across the crowded tavern and a hand stabbed in the strangers direction with haughty command. 

"You, human, what means the symbol you bear?" he spoke in a tone used to obedience.  "I seek one who wears such a device."

[Uncle Yuan]

I glance upward at the arriving group, note the drawing of the man and symbol the large human wears, then lean forward to try to block his view of the wounded man.  While doing so I murmur to Whisper, "I'm not of a mind to betray this man to the likes of him.  If you feel otherwise, or would rather not get involved, I recommend that you move away now."

[spoiler]Do I know much about this secret organization?  Even it's general "alignment?"  I mean, employing hobgoblins as lackeys is not a real positive sign . . .

Also, what's the word on the equipment list?[/spoiler]

[Viking]

The purple-clad entertainer sighs softly at the azure-skinned elf's imperious demand.  He murmurs something in Elvish:

(*for those who speak Elvish*)
[spoiler]"Let's not provoke a fight just yet, shall we?  'Twould be messy and discourteous to our host."[/spoiler]

He then strikes a jarring chord on his lute, in stark contrast to the cheery tune from before.

"As it so happens," he begins, strumming a series of dark and minor chords on his instrument, "I think I've seen someone bearing a passing resemblance to that picture.  'Twas much earlier, in the storm outside, and passing strange besides.  I had thought it would make for a good tale, though I'd not expected an interested audience so quickly..."

And with that, he begins to narrate in time with his music:

'Twas a night both dark and stormy,
As I traveled 'cross the land,
That a stranger came before me,
With a warning, outstretched hand.

The lightning lit his haggard face,
And the rain lashed at his cheek.
The thunder tolled and at that place,
The man began to speak.

"You'd best beware," the man gasped out,
"Of the danger here betide.
They seem like thugs, but have no doubt,
Their reach is far and wide."

"Oh, never let them capture you,
Or you'll never be the same,
They'll scar, and maim, and torture you -
Beware the Cleansing Flame."

With that, the stranger turned and fled,
As I pondered his advice.
'Twas then I saw his side had bled,
Staining red, ground slick with ice.

He vanished through the Western Wood,
And though I never caught his name,
One thing that I had understood,
Beware the Cleansing Flame.

*************

(OOG: I'm using a bardic Fascinate ability, targeting the huge man and the two hobgoblins nearest him.  If it works, they'll pretty much be paying rapt attention to my performance, oblivious to other happenings around them.  Except for combat - that pretty much snaps them out of it.)

[Lord Elcorion]

i take note of the armored man and his inhuman consorts, keeping my hood low. for now, i'll remain an obsever, but my hand tightens on the mace beneath my cloak in anticipation of trouble.

[BlueBard]

To Orloid, whispered in Elven:
[spoiler]I'm of no mind to give ground before goblinkin, or those who employ them.[/spoiler]

I give the bard his chance, but should it come to violence I'll be happy to oblige the goblin scum and their keeper.  And anyone inclined to join in, pointedly glancing at the orcs.  I also move in front of the injured man to shield him from view... or worse.

To GM:
[spoiler]If need be, do I have sufficient space to cast a web spell inside the tavern without entangling myself or Orloid?  If not, I'll let my fingers drop to the hilt of my longsword and draw it at the first sign of violence.  If the web spell is an option, then I'll do that instead which should buy some time.  I'll try to keep the bard and as many of the elves present free of the webs.  I won't cast the spell if there's any danger that an open flame will torch them.  The main target will be the band that just entered the tavern.[/spoiler]