Who started this fight anyway...?

And the morning started so pleasantly...

As they sit on the grass, huffin’ and puffin’ The sense of dê jà vu steals across them. After confirming the land doesn’t belong to Antoinette’s family, Ooma ventures a thought. “I think that’s the Tavern, dudes.” A quiet moment of reflection sombres them and they tell Amaril of the Tavern’s quest.

Rising from her spot on the grass, Lucy decides she wants to go to the funny looking building. Her little legs pick up speed as she heads down the small hill, Ooma shouting after her.

“How about we go pick flowers instead?” Lucy is easily distracted, and she grabs Martonis’s hand and he and Antoinette move across the field away from the building. They don’t go too far, just a few yards.

In the meantime, the others wander around the building, checking out the layout of the land. Ooma remembers the poisonous prickle bushes and spies them encroaching on the back of the property, taking over the fallen barn. A couple of outhouses, the doors hanging loose are found at the back, off to the side. The rear of the building boasts a rickety staircase leading to an upper back door and one carved in the basement, giving access to the root-cellar. A cobweb riddled horse barn, with ten-stalls sways in the wind, the roof still in good repair.

They note as they circle the building that, despite its dilapidated condition, none of the windows are broken. Odd.

Amaril catches a shadowy figure in an upper window, the curtain fluttering back into place swiftly.

Ooma, Amaril and Wik carefully step up the rotted steps to the equally decayed porch. They knock, but, despite the shadowy figure assuring them someone is home, no one responds. A louder knock results in the door swinging back, catching on the floor as it slips from its hinges.

“Well, I guess we go in.” Ooma braces the door open with her golden mace as they enter – they are learning...

The interior is musty, dusty with broken tables and chairs littering the area. The lighting is dim, due to the grimy windows, much different than our heroes remember. Unexpectedly, a fire burns in the large fireplace. It is a moment before they comprehend that they did not see smoke coming from the chimney outside.

Ooma calls out, “Anyone home?” and they all hear distinct scurrying and scrapping sounds. Calling again gives no response. Wik warns the others to be silent and he mimes his plan.

They nod and watch as he climbs the staircase, miraculously finding footholds that do not cause creaks. Reaching the top he stops and listens again before proceeding down a lengthy hallway, pausing by each door before passing.

As he arrives at the third door he clearly hears a sound of someone warning another to be quiet. No other noise exists.

Wik, bravely, or stupidly, turns the door handle being ever so careful to make no noise. He is successful in turning the brass handle, and, charges into the approximately fifteen-foot square room ready to surprise the occupants and is instead surrounded by three large men, longswords drawn and now pressed to Wik’s throat.

He is given an opportunity to explain his presence and decides bluff and bravado might redeem his predicament.

Unfortunately this is a spectacular failure and Wik is forced into a hopeless struggle with the three musketeers, or so it would seem. Stalling them as he is forced to drop his weapon, hoping Ooma and Amaril will hear and come to his rescue.

He is fortunate to be able to stall for a short bit, giving Ooma and Amaril time, but too soon he is fighting with the three as they prepare to slice the Rogue to ribbons.

Luckily, before his head is sent rolling down the steps, Ooma charges in and slices the one known as Snarler deeply before Amaril enters. These distractions enable Wik to retrieve his fallen short sword and even the odds.

Struggling against these foes, and nearing death’s door, Wik tries to flee and bounces off the particularly healthy glass window. He fails to escape the first time but is successful the second, rolling onto the low slant hiproof and scrambling away from the window. This succeeds in alerting Martonis, who charges Morgan and Antoinette to care for Lucy as he runs toward the building.

Barely pausing as he runs under Wik he tosses a hasty healing spell, bringing Wik to near full health, as he, Martonis, continues to race inside and to the fray.

Several blows later, Martonis comes clanking into the room and he, Ooma and Amaril struggle mightily with these heavy hitters!

Wik, giving up his perch on the roof tumbles to the ground, slowly picks himself up and casually makes his way back inside, in no hurry whatever...

The bloodbath creating slippery floors as swords flash and cleave. Our heroes even manage to unarm one of the sturdy fellows, kicking his jewel-encrusted hilt, heavily decorated silver-steel sword out of his reach.

He, in turn drags Ooma to the floor, where she swings her battleaxe mightily!

Our heroes are losing ground... They are tired to the point of near exhaustion. They have used their spells and struggle to maintain their weapons against these fighters... Divine help would be welcomed... Intervention of any sort would be hailed...

Oh, Ichabod, where for art thou... 

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XP: Doing This A Little Differently So Pay Attention!

Those at:

Level 5 – 5000 XP

Level 6 – 4000 XP

Level 7 – 3000 XP

EXTRA-XP for those who write a story (with the Tavern at its centre...); journal entry (of usefulness); or an insight into their character’s back story... 50xp x character level, for one entry per week… (Remember, I don’t know what you need or covet if you don’t tell me...)

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VIDEO VERSION \ PROOF

  

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fledgling Dungeon Mistress,

khrys...

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