Acqua Alta

[Umiushi]

(This will be the thread for the first adventure, once the game begins.)

It is early in the summertime. The party traveled by barge down the Yu River and into the Beil Valley. [The exact reasons for this journey can be settled during the party composition process. There is also a default reason which can be discussed at that time.] Beil Valley is in the center-southern portion of the Empire, near the intersection of the Central Range and the Orange Peaks. It is one portion of an extensive river system linking several vales and tributary valleys together, and thus part of a major trade route.

[Umiushi]

This is the first Acqua Alta main post. The next main post will appear by 11:00 pm, Thursday, April 9th.

Background
Traveling from Byswell Town to Beilston was supposed to take three days, but when you reached the top of the great locks leading down to the Beil Valley early yesterday evening, it became obvious that you were going to make it in two. The next morning, when your boat traversed them and set forth from the bottom lock, in the Beil Valley at last, a nokk popped his head out of the water. "Better hurry," he cried out cheerfully, "for if you don't make it by tonight, my kinsfolk may be having you over for supper!"

Every year, the opening of the Path of Storms spectacularly heralds in the summer. This fearsome convocation of violent, rainy weather blows from east to west across Aucothia, drenching the land for one final, sodden fortnight before the dry, hot days truly set in. The very moment the first sequence of storms in this brief season let up, the lot of you rushed to the harbor, hoping to find a river boat captain daring enough, or greedy enough, to agree to take you on your way, and beat the coming of the next onslaught. Luck was with you, and for a few more precious coins from your dwindling reserves, you found yourselves headed eastwards, to Beilston. At least this was better than whittling away your remaining wealth in some ramshackle Byswell inn while the rains poured.

The pilot in question was a halfling, with tousled brown hair peeking out from a large hat that obscured his face down to just above his constant, mordant grin. Four of his six crew were also halflings, which gave the impression of the barge being overrun with solemn, bustling children.

Unsurprisingly, the river flowed fast and freely, engorged by both the runoff and the snow melt from spring. Many times, you spied the crew paddling against the current, to save the barge from running against some shoal, buried tree, or other debris. In between these panicky bouts of activity, the master of the boat still found time to trade half-hearted insults with the captain of the one other barge to brave the waters, carrying its load of passengers, including a single dragonborn who was obviously a devotee of the Great Master, towards the Temple Landing, further down the river. The two barges spent the length of the trip traveling close enough together for one to notice if the other ran into trouble.

Currently...
It is now the afternoon of the day after the one that saw your dawn departure from Byswell. The bright, hot sun, Lord Pelor's Bright-Gold, shines high in the sky, not nearly far enough from the zenith to suit any of your tastes, and still completely unobstructed by the spectacularly tall, white, storm clouds that billow into the air from both the west and the east.

Within the past hour, a frightfully strong wind picked up, blowing counter to the Yu's current and raising whitecaps that wash over the bow, rocking the boat ominously. It is still laden with the heat of the day.

The sound of the wind and waves, mixed with the grunts and cursing of the crew as they bail to keep the barge afloat, drowns out the cries of the river fowl swooping low over the water and the croaking of the frogs on the bank, noises that had accompanied the party for most of the journey up to this point. Even more alarmingly, those of you looking out over the sides of the barge definitely catch glimpses of submerged trees still aleaf, and even what you're certain are buildings.

To your great relief, you spot a low, walled mound of grayish-black rock on a thin promontory of land up ahead. Numerous wooden rooftops and tower peaks rise upwards from its bulk. A sense of disappointment assails those of you who have not been here before: however dense and crowded it looks, the place cannot be as large as Byswell Town. However, the barge's pilot pauses in his duties long enough to explain that what lies ahead is Beilston Mound, nothing more than a keep attached to the city. It is here, though, that the inhabitants of the lower-lying reaches of Beilston go to seek shelter in times of flooding, such as these.

A long, blue stone jetty is spied, thrusting outward from the nearby, southern bank, perhaps a half-mile from Beilston Mound. The pair of barges maneuver towards it, and you see that there are about a dozen figures waiting there, all of them human, or passing for such. The crews paddle frantically to slow the vessels down as ropes are tossed from the jetty, and the barges brought close and secured.

"I don't know where you are headed, but your journey stops here, at least for now!" calls out one of the people on the jetty, a young and (perhaps by human standards) beautiful woman wearing a brown half-cloak over her official-looking garb. She bends forward and continues to shout in the direction of the wind, with both hands cupped around her mouth, "That storm to the east has already crossed into the valley. You won't make it to Temple Landing except in pieces." Standing next to her is clearly a bodyguard wearing mail and carrying a pole arm, with a crossbow at his side. The other people are dock workers, who are busy at work bringing the boats around to the sheltered side.

"Beilston is where we're headed, ma'am!" replies your captain in a high, clear voice that carries surprisingly well. "That's where we're headed as well, at least as of this morning," shouts the pilot of the other barge. The dragonborn stirs from its contemplative position near the center of that boat, perhaps a sign of dissatisfaction, but remains seated.

Once the barges are steadied and still against the east side of the jetty, the woman and her bodyguard step aboard and ask the pilot to provide his license and declare his cargo. When her back is turned, you notice a large, orange circle emblazoned on the half cloak, the symbol of the Ministry of Trade. Taking the pilot's word at face value, she assesses him a duty of five staters which he quickly pays, looking mildly surprised, and happy for the first time since the rest of you paid your fees to him. She glances at all the rest of you, wide-eyed and obviously curious, but she doesn't approach or question anyone else. Instead, she turns around and proceeds to the other barge with her cloak whipping about her in the wind, and the guardsman in tow.

[yukonhorror]

Zephyr has a strange quality about him. He appears to be very helpful and kind, but a bit aloof as if he has a lot on his mind.

Also, you'll notice Zephyr looks pretty rugged, dirty clothes/armor, etc... What really stands out is this very nice blue velvet sash around his waist. It is also a bit dirty, but it is still elegant.

[Cocoa]

Ariellana leaned back against the edge of the barge, her face flushed and eyes half-closed. That meal she grabbed at the last minute before boarding wasn’t sitting well. The fast water and gusty winds were giving the barge a peculiar roll that did not combine well with her upset stomach. The heat added an extra touch of misery. She sincerely hoped that she wouldn’t be sick.

She half-heartedly watched the halfling crew that was in charge of the barge. They were clearly having fun, enjoying the challenge of piloting the clumsy barge in the storm-swollen waters. She hoped their skill matched their enthusiasm. So far, so good, not that she felt well enough to care much. If she had felt better, and if they weren’t so busy, she might have gone over to talk to them. She could catch up on some of the trading gossip. Perhaps they might be hiring, or know someone who was. For now, though, it was best to stay out of their way.

She adjusted the tie-string on her hat so that it wouldn’t be carried off by a gust of wind. The hat was of indeterminate color, shapeless and a bit battered around the edges. It had clearly seen better days. Heck, probably even better decades. But Ariellana was fond of it and didn’t want to have to replace it just yet. The brim provided some shade from the sun. She had stuffed a wet kerchief underneath for some extra cooling. The occasional water rivulets down the back of her neck felt itchy yet good as they evaporated.

If anyone had cared to look in her direction, they would have seen a hot and tired-looking Eladrin woman, tall and muscular and self-possessed. She looked as if she’d been on her own for quite a while. Her well-worn leather armor, though never anything special, was functional and well cared for. Ditto for the sword strapped at her waist. It wasn’t of best quality, but it looked like it had seen a lot of use, and its owner was obviously still alive to use it again. The rest of her clothes were nondescript, well suited for traveling but not particularly fashionable or costly or flamboyant. Under the aforementioned hat, her pale hair was cropped short in no particular style. Next to the woman sat a pack that matched the rest of her possessions in its ordinariness. She was using it as an elbow-rest at the moment.

As the barge neared the dock, the woman stood, picked up the pack, glanced at her traveling companions, and prepared to disembark.

[Myn]

Myn felt out of place on the barge, it moved far too much for his comfort, and was a far cry from the cool, green, and, most importantly, unmoving forests of his home. He had never been on any watercraft larger than a canoe, and most certainly not hurtling down the middle of a turbulent river in the hours before a storm.

He had been entertaining the idea of removing his leathers for a swim in the river–anything to avoid this stifling heat–but the barge's travel never steadied enough for him to feel safe doing so. Like riding a Manticore, he thought to himself, you dare not let go for fear of being eaten.

For the majority of the trip he sat in amiable silence with Morgran, enduring the rough waters and stifling heat with careful stoicism. When the waters calmed enough that walking was permissible he would rise to his full height–just short of the human-height staff he carried with him–and run through a series of stretches that would make any dancing instructor wince in sympathetic pain... before approaching him to ask if he would join their troupe. Myn is built as if he were the patron deity of dance; tall and willowy thin, with an athletic musculature but lacking any bulk.

As the barge neared the shore he turned his head–topped with willowy brown-blonde hair that fell to his neck–and regarded the trade officer and her escort with luminous, emerald eyes. When she turned away he sat there watching her for a moment, then turned and collected his gear. He made sure all of his accoutrements of travel, flint, rope, sunrods and other small items, were fastened in their respective pockets on his leathers, and donned his quiver, unstrung bow, and his pack containing his rations and ritual book. Picking up his staff, which was leaning against a convenient crate, he made his way to the dock.

[JohnChrist]

(OOC: I'm sorry in advance but I'm a little short on time at the moment so this will be short)

As the barge pulls into the dock Morgran stirs from his thoughts. Seeing everyone head to embark onto land and being thoroughly tired of rocking to and fro on the windswept barge he grabs his small pack and shield and moves to join them.

His plate armor gleams slightly in what little light filters through the oncoming clouds despite it's tarnish. In fact it's apparent that he has not been in any large settlement for some time.

[TheGreenLabrador]

Most of the day, the half-orc Tanglar, has been lounging near the middle of the boat, hoping that staying near the center would reduce the feeling the motion was bringing on.

However, as the sky began to darken, and the smell of fresh rain moved swiftly with the wind and the worse current, Tanglar seemed to gain new life, standing and holding his spears in one hand, his leather armor in the other. With his feet planted shoulder-width apart, he seemed to be in command of the vessel, but it was the sky he watched. Frighteningly however, his great tooth-filled grin was joyous, his eyes full of life at the sight of the oncoming of a severe storm.

As the city comes into view, he dons his arm-braces and armor, his face becomes more controlled, but he seems unable to hide his glee.

Now that he is fully armored, and alert, he seems to draw more attention to himself, and details before, that went unnoticed, stand out. His black, matted hair is twisted into dreadlocks, and his facial hair is made into a single thick rope twisted tightly that juts angrily from his chin. On one arm is a brand of Kord, and the other arm has colored ropes made from ivy. These interlocking ropes form a larger pattern that seems like it should hold meaning, but before it becomes clear, the idea fades as his arm moves. His bear hide armor has been dyed, stripes of green line the chest like a tiger.

He grabs his pack, throwing his arm through one loop and keeping it on one side. Leaning slightly to ensure the bag does not slip off he strides over to Ariellana as she looks at the members of the barge.

Looks like we are stuck here. Obviously, not many adventurers are seen this way, hopefully I won't have to ruin the thunderstorm with the sound of breaking bones.

[Umiushi]

This is the second Acqua Alta main post. The next main post will appear by 11:00 am, Monday, April 13th. As a reminder, that post may be very brief, late, or even absent. See the calendar for details.

In a rush to be free of the turbulent waters, the crew hurries to quickly unload all of the barge's cargo, starting to carry the various crates and packages to the stone top of the jetty even before the passengers can make their way off the boat. As they do so, the trade official and her entourage begin to repeat their performance on the following barge. She stands a little unsteadily on the rocking boat, listening to the pilot rattle off his consignment as she stares at him silently with large, slightly glazed-looking eyes, while her bodyguard casually glances this way and that.

On your barge, the crew has laid down two wide, solid-looking lengths of board. Along one length, they form a line, quickly passing the lighter loads from hand to hand. The two humans in the crew begin hauling the the larger crates along the second plank. Many of them gaze with bald envy as the quay workers studiously ignore them while moving to assist the crew of the second barge with their offloading, which has somehow started even though the official is still transfixed by that barge's captain's accounting. "How did they manage to pay off the dock gang before they even landed?" one of the humans pretends to mutter to himself, loud enough for everyone on board to hear.

Meanwhile, the second barge's pilot seems to have reached the end of his list, as his animated gesturing begins to slow down and he starts to make concluding motions with his hands. Finally, he reaches a complete stop and then grasps his money pouch possessively, apparently awaiting the inevitable, but obviously unwilling to part with any amount of its contents.

The official continues to stare at him, and then nods, with no change to her serious, attentive expression. She raises one of her hands into the air, index finger extended, as though she was trying to catch a servant's attention in a tavern, or about to list off her first point in a debate. At that moment, half of the dockside workers roughly drop whatever loads they were carrying onto the jetty's surface, while the rest actually toss what was formerly in their hands into the river and leap aboard the other barge.

The crew of your barge and its captain stop in their tracks and stare dumbfounded. So does the crew on the other barge as the workers move among them, picking up various boxes and shoving them off the edge. Seemingly oblivious to it, the official lowers her hand and clasps it in front of her, as if quietly awaiting some rejoinder from the pilot who is rapidly working his mouth but doesn't appear to be saying anything. Her guard paces to and fro, kicking off loose possessions, while the barge's passengers yell out in surprise, rush to gather what they own out of the reach of his boot, and begin to leap off the boat and run towards the river bank. All but one.

The temple devotee lets out a roar and flashes its teeth. Nearby workers draw the cudgels they were carrying at their sides; and the guard stops his rampage to face the acolyte, gripping his halberd tightly in his hands. With one clawed hand, the dragonborn yanks a parcel out of the grip of the worker next to it, and then cuffs her with its other hand, sending her sprawling prone. Looking around, it moves towards the trade official, who looks back at it bemusedly.

Stepping between them, the bodyguard bears his halberd crosswise, ramming it against the dragonborn's chest. The devotee draws its head back, opening its mouth. Even from your distance, you can make out blue and yellow sparks leaping in the air between the two combatants. The guard slides his pole arm upwards to hook underneath his opponent's great chin, snapping its jaws shut again. Then, his muscles bulging, he forces the dragonborn's bulk into the air and over the side.

Immediately, the white-crested river currents bear the acolyte away. The official runs to the far corner of the barge, watching the dragonborn flounder in the swirling eddies. Everyone left on that vessel is hastily abandoning it without challenging the dock workers. On your boat, there is no activity whatsoever from the crew.

[yukonhorror]

Shocked by the actions of the bodyguard, Zephyr checks his belongings to make sure they are securely fastened, sprints towards the edge of the boat, attempts a shallow dive, and swims as hard as he can to save the dragonborn.

"Hold on! I'm coming to get you!"

OOC: don't know what rolls I'll need but will guess

* init: with warlord bonus *

Check equipment (minor)
Run and jump (move)
Swim full speed (move)

* Dive safely into water as far as I can towards acolyte (Athletics check) *

* Swim as fast as I can (spd:6) towards acolyte (athletics check) *

[Myn]

When the dock workers drop their loads Myn stops in his tracks and stares intently at the activity on the other barge.

Just before the dragonborn is thrown from the deck he turns to Morgran and says in a quiet voice "We should take care not to draw too much attention to ourselves. This was planned, and that official has a lot of power here."

I would like to roll a perception check on the crates that the workers are throwing off the barge, specifically the parcel the dragonborn snagged from the female worker. This is part of my turn, so I'll remember not to do a minor action later. I'll hold off on my move and standard action until the OoC discussion concludes on some course of action.

Minor Action: Perception Check

*Edit* This was made moot with Morgran's comments, I'll save the Minor Action.

[JohnChrist]

"Well said Myn, but something in their manner makes me think she may be acting outside her power. There is a definite hesitance in their actions. The boxes they are targeting contain incense and religious supplies. Perhaps they have a grudge with the Temple?"

[Myn]

"Do you think we should intervene?"

[Cocoa]

Ariellana is shocked when boxes start getting tossed overboard. She can't imagine what might be going on. Usual procedure for an, err, irregular cargo is to confiscate it and arrest the suspects. Going on a rampage seems over the top.

Carefully, Ariellana pretends to be looking elsewhere, though she continues to pay attention to the scene out of the corner of her eyes. She wonders why the Ministry of Trade seems intent on picking a fight with the Temple.

She twitches when the dragonborn is tossed overboard. She sees that the barbarian is getting ready to dive in after him.

"Tanglar, get ready. We might have to move quickly."

Ariellana prepares to grab a rope to help out. She'll also make sure that Zephyr's possessions get off the barge safely. They might not be able to return to the barge later, especially if they're getting into the middle of a big political mess.

She doesn't want to go into the water if Zephyr does. It's safer to help out from land.

She looks over to her other companions to see how they're reacting. She sees that they are talking in low tones. She is ready to fight if it becomes necessary. But she'd much rather get out of the situation with everyone alive, unharmed, and not in custody.


ooc: Ariellana's exact actions will depend on the discussion currently going on in the adventure discussion forum. Plans for now (subject to later editing) are to get off the barge with Zephyr's possessions, and to toss a rope to Zephyr and the dragonborn to help them get out of the water safely. She hopes that her other companions can either help, or do some fast talking to keep the Ministry of Trade from getting upset at their actions to help the dragonborn. If she and Zephyr do get in trouble, she hopes her companions can escape it by pretending to not be involved.

[JohnChrist]

Move Action: Down Left for 5 squares

Standard Action: Gonna do another move action Down and Right 4 squares to end up at the top left of the lower barge.

Free Action (according to PH pg 267):

To the dock workers and official: "Here now! Stop all this! What's going on here?"

And hopefully to get them to stop:

* Diplomacy Check *

[Myn]

Zephyr's sudden departure halts the conversation between Myn and Morgran. Myn, staring at the Zephyr's previous position on the barge, states "Well, that's been decided." With a quick shrug, he turns and hurries off the barge and onto the dock. Headed towards the dragonborn.