The Hordes of the Blight - The Adventure

The town of Grassport is a prospering one. The fields around it are fertile and relatively monster-free, and it lies in a position of trade with other towns, being on the border of three tribes. Its imposing walls and valiant guards keep it safe from all but the most terrible of monsters.

However, not every town is as prosperous as Grassport. Towards the north lies a route into the territory of the Salmund, a tribe near a massive forest home to countless monsters. The borders of the war against the Blight are ever-shifting, but the Salmund, and their capital of Outreach, have always been on the threshold of destruction.

Fortunately for them, the struggle is not theirs alone. Caravans travel regularly to the Salmund from towns such as Grassport, filled with supplies and travelers, with all sorts of motivations for going to such a dangerous place. Some are simply travelers looking for a fresh start. Others are hoping to aid the struggling people. And still others are monster hunters, hoping to make a difference by heading straight into the thick of the war between humans and monsters.

For whatever unfathomable reason, you, the players, have joined up with one such caravan headed up to Outreach. Your motives are your own, as is your fate.



The caravan members are currently gathering for their departure, centering around several carts. Most of the carts are pulled by horses, but the lead cart has a large beast called a Trihorn at the lead, so named for the two tusks on its jaws and the horn on its nose. Its horns and its powerful body do much to reassure the other members of the caravan, hoping its features will give monsters pause before attacking.

The caravan currently numbers four carts and a dozen individuals, with the carts being loaded with food, well-crafted weapons, and various odds and ends. The caravan leader stands leaning against the Trihorn, a watchdog asleep at his feet, as he watches the group prepare for departure, looking over the group to make sure everyone’s present.

Not being one to sit on her heels, Ghost Tracker is looking around for any unusual monster tracks.

---

I'm assuming there aren't any so I don't need to roll but, I can roll if you want Dusk Raven.

Aparix stretched one arm across his shoulders, pulling on that wrist with his other. After his stretch was complete, he leaned against a nearby tree.

An imperceptible slit in his robes allowed him to skim the crowd with his eyes - he wasn't intending to do pickpocketing anymore, but looking for easy targets was an ingrained habit at this point. Besides, if monster-hunting didn't work out...

Spoiler:

Zakhar walks up to Aparix with a suspicious look on his face.

"You, shifty one, what is angle on this? Why hide features like scared baby man?"

"I'm not hiding," Aparix said a bit defensively, the effect ruined the tone of mirth hidden just a bit deeper. He looked up at this strange...Nightchild, apparently. "See? You can see my teeth and everything. Nice hat."

"Yes, is nice hat. Is traditional in my tribe. You have nice robes, but I distrust man who hides half of face. Man who hides face has more than just face to hide."

"Well, look at that!" The small, rag-worn Lokira laughed. "You've got me pegged." Aparix idly chipped a small piece of bark from the tree, tossing it back and forth between his hands a few times. "You're a smart guy, aren'tcha? Yeah, you're right, I'm no saint, not by the longest shot you can imagine. Not trusting me's probably the smart idea. Feel free to keep your eye on what I don't have hidden, just don't take any...eh...let's say, permanent preventative measures, and we'll be golden."

"This works for me. I watch you, tiny man."

Zakhar walks back over to the caravan.

"Nice guy," Aparix said to himself, whittling the edge of the wood chip he held in his hands.

Bellator had an entirely simple motive for the trip: Outreach was much more likely to be attacked by the blighted hordes, and thus was a better place for the Lokira to be. Besides, Grassport was dull! One could only hit a person a few times here before they ran screaming and called others to fight for them..The monsters, on the other hand, they were a fight! And his bloodthirst, and that of his axe, would only be sated by driving them back...Especially considering the niggling voice in his head that became completely insufferable when he picked fights with people...So he was piling his few things into one of the wagons, his telekinetic talents making loading much faster and easier as he haphazardly slung his bag and a few necessities into it, glancing around...Such an odd group...But perhaps he could brawl with a few of them along the way to keep from being too horrifically bored...

Marona wrote:Not being one to sit on her heels, Ghost Tracker is looking around for any unusual monster tracks.

Given that you are still inside town limits, there are fortunately no monster tracks within the walls.

AProcrastinatingWriter wrote:

Spoiler:

There really aren't a whole lot of easy marks - next to the caravan. Pretty much everyone is working close together and so won't be easy to pickpocket without others noticing.

Beyond the caravan, however, there's a few isolated pedestrians walking here and there.

Lapis-Lazily wrote:"...Why hide features like scared baby man?"

One of the caravan members, also a Lokira with a shawl around his face, briefly gives Zakhar a glare that probably wasn't noticed. Lokira eyes may be pretty emotive but this one's gaze doesn't exactly bore into the back of one's skull.

At last, the caravan leader, a middle-aged man with dark hair and beard, gets to his feat. After prodding the dog awake he looks over the carts to see that everything has been loaded up. "All right everyone, time to head out. We should be able to make it to the waystation by dark."

The various crewmembers start to wrap up. Some take positions on the cart, such as the Lokira, others walk. The caravan leader, for his part, climbs atop the lead cart and from there onto the Trihorn's back, a glaive slung across his own back, at the ready to defend the caravan against any threats.

Ghost Tracker gave a positive short clicking noise to herself having found no evidence of monsters inside the city and walked to the head of the caravan to keep an eye out for any tracks as they went along.

---

Yeah, she's gonna begin the game by being pretty dull. It's not her fault. She's clearly confused by this not being a tavern and therefore doesn't know she's supposed to be introducing herself to other PCs. =]

Perception: 13 + 22 = 35

Zakhar also takes up a position at the head of the caravan, walking beside Ghost Tracker. After a short time, he begins to talk.

"I mean no offense, but what are you? Is riddle to me. Experience is little of matters beyond my tribe."

Aparix, walking a short distance behind them, keeps a wary ear out. Simultaneously, he fingers one of the two stamps on his hip, almost nervously.

But then, how could anyone be nervous wearing that grin?

Bellator was hurrying alongside the caravan, falling back after a bit to speak to the lokira showing his teeth and fingering an object at his hip..."Can't wait to be attacked, can you? You want to hear the screams of the blighted beasts too, don't you?" he asked, seeming to mistake the grin and actions for wanting a fight.

"Nah," Aparix shrugged, trying not to let his apparently-murderous companion bother him. Live and let live, that's what he always said. "Well, yeah. But not that in ways specific, you see. Just something in general. Got a trip to go on, after all, and I get bored real easy."

Ghost Tracker slows her pace marginally and turns to Zakhar. "No offense is taken. I believe your kind call mine Blightscorned. Those that know of us at least. I suppose this means I should not hold out hope any of you have seen others." she replies and then gives a sigh mixed with faint shrill whistling noise. "This one is Ghost Tracker. How are you known?"

"I am Zakhar Volkov. Was smith where I come from."

Ghost Tracker nods and asks, "So what is your purpose now?"

"Is simple. I kill monsters, less people die. So I kill monsters."

"True, too true, but where we go, there are many to fight, hmm, hmm...Many of those who deserve their grisly fates...I can hardly wait...The others, like most on this wagon..Not fun to fight, and..." He paused, realizing what he was going to say would sound crazy, even for him. "Monsters are a challenge, though, each one a different canvas."

"So you're a painter, then?"

Zakhar stares back at Bellator angrily.
"There is no fun in killing. Life is sacred thing, even evil life. I kill to save others, nothing more."