The fire burns warmly, but casts little light into Mentor's study. The flickering shadows only hint at the vast number of books and scrolls that fill the many shelves. Slowly, mentor walks over to the fire.
"Well, my friends, your training is complete. You are not yet true heroes; you have yet to prove yourselves. But first, let me tell you of Zargon..."
Mentor rests one hand upon the mantle of the fireplace and leans into it while the other hand fiddles absentmindedly with a small crystal orb. He gazes into the flames, the back of his red-trimmed black robes facing you all and the tall red cowl obscuring his face. Golden symbols along the red trim pulse with faint golden light as he speaks,
"Many centuries ago, Zargon was my apprentice. The young sorcerer worked hard and learned quickly. But impatience devoured Zargon, who wanted to learn more powerful magic. I spoke of the dangers, and cautioned patience, for in time my apprentice would become a great sorcerer. But Zargon could not wait, breaking into my study each night to read my spell books. The secrets held within them were great indeed. Upon learning these secrets, Zargon fled."
Mentor turns from the flames to look at the crystal orb in his hand, you can just see the firelight reflected in his eyes and a stern scowl upon his face. He clenches the orb tightly and turns back to the fire,
"When I caught up with Zargon, I found my former apprentice greatly changed, having pledged allegiance to the great powers of Dread. Fool! Zargon saw magic only as a shortcut to power and paid no heed to the terrible price that would have to be paid. I tried to reason with Zargon, but to no avail. The evil sorcerer laughed in my face and then unleashed a terrible spell that I was hard-pressed to counter. For many days we battled, but Zargon had allies stronger even than I, and I could not defeat them. In the end, as we both weakened, Zargon fled and sought refuge in the Northern Dread Wastes. There the evil sorcerer licked battle wounds and honed skills, conjuring ancient powers with which to overthrow the Realm."
"I must observe and measure the strength of Zargon's magic. The powers the evil sorcerer has called upon will destroy us all if I relax from this vigil. Zargon's legions threatened us once before. Then it was Rogar who aided me and defeated them. Now they are on the march again; already they have assailed the Borderlands. The Realm must again look for heroes and to this end I have trained you."
Mentor turns from the fireplace and faces you all. He is tall and surprisingly hale for his age and he cuts an imposing figure in his red and black robes. Shoulder length white hair is swept back into the cowl and his braided mustaches lay atop a lengthy white beard. Amber-colored eyes regard you all for a moment before he continues,
"Each of you must complete fourteen quests. If you do this, you will be acclaimed as champions of the Realm and dubbed Sovereign Knights. Only then will you be on the road to becoming true heroes. I shall speak to you again on your return. If you return..."
Mentor bids you all farewell and retires to his private chambers. In the hall of his great manse, you are greeted by an androgynous elven servant in dark red fineries. You all are acquainted with Talonovar, having met them a few times before on past trips to Mentor's home, "I will show you out, come along please." Talonovar keeps a brisk pace as they lead you through the wide halls and down the marble staircase to two great wooden doors at the front of the mansion, "A runner shall be sent to the Quill and Quillon Inn tomorrow morning with instructions regarding your first quest. Do see that you embark upon this task as soon as possible. Good night." The heavy doors are closed without waiting for your reply.
You find the Quill and Quillon at the corner of an intersection of dirt roads up ahead. As you approach you hear music and banter coming from within the Inn. You also hear a creaking sound and look up to find a wooden sign swinging lazily in the stiff Autumn breeze. The sign says The Quill & Quillon and below the name you see a crossed sword and a quill are painted on the sign. The paint is peeling, but the place is lively enough. You enter the Inn and are greeted by delicious smells, simple, but catchy music, and the usual din of tavern noise. You see a balding half-orc man with salt and pepper mutton chops behind the bar, pouring drinks for patrons. A three piece band is playing a lively tune to a few folks dancing in a small clear space before the stage. You hear cheers and curses and look to your left to see a few tables offering varying gambling games. You also notice a few empty tables near the back of the room, they seem to be a little less rowdy than the rest of the tavern.
Please describe your character and what they are doing after entering the Inn, a few options have been listed above, but feel free to come up with your own if you so choose. It is assumed that you all are at least acquaintances, having trained under Mentor together for a few months now. Your rooms and board are being paid for by Mentor, though drinks and any meals outside a standard breakfast, lunch, and dinner are not covered.
Tarwun eases through the crowd, reflexively ducking his head as he makes his way to an empty table, catching the eye of a server as he goes. Drink makes some of these lowlanders stupid, he was baffled by the first drunk that wanted to pick a fight with him as an obvious outsider. Fool man. And his fool friends. At least the lowlanders he's been paired with are competent enough to trust at his back. If the old man's right, they'll be tested soon.
The big goliath eases his weight down onto a sturdy bench, and nods at the server as they approach. "Stew, hot. Bread. Ale."
He leans back, eyes scanning the common room. While he didn't speak to the others about his intent to take a table, they would know they are welcome to join him if they wished, but that his tastes don't lean towards singing along with the music, or rolling the dice or otherwise carousing. Folks familiar with his presence would know he largely wants to be left alone, so Tarwun's table may serve as a bit of a respite for the others who wish to take a break from gambling or the like.
((Do we already have rooms here? He'd tend to carry his belongings with him, but if we've been put up here for a while, Tarwun may now be leaving some of his stuff in his room.))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
The door to the inn opens and a stocky halfling makes his way in. Fenly is dressed in natural coloured traveller’s clothes with a shield on his back and a war pick hanging from his side. Over one shoulder is a short bow, but on his short frame it looks the size of a long bow. Over the other is a quiver. Although he is loaded with equipment, he seems to carry it easily.
He looks around with intense blue eyes, looking for any familiar faces. Seeing Tarwun, who is impossible to miss, sat at a table he heads over to join the much larger goliath.
“I’ll take the same as he is having”, he says to one of the serving people as he passes, motioning towards the goliath.
He pulls up a chair at the table. “Well met Tarwun. It appears we will be travelling companions for a while”
Tarwun & Fenly - A middle-aged woman in a simple brown dress with a white apron over the top is carrying an inordinate amount of large mugs as you pass. She hears you and nods, "Aye, the usual for ye then. Sara'll have it out to ye shortly." The woman, you know her as Kirren, from your time at the Inn, manages to wend her way through the crowded tap room and set the mugs down upon a far table without spilling a drop of their contents. The lively bunch at the table cheer for her and clap before claiming their drinks.
A slightly short, pale skinned human man enters the Quill and Quillon and heads towards the bar immediately. Osmorn's blacked out clothing has sparse bits of purple fabric and a holy symbol of Helm hangs from his neck. Thanks to his elven ancestry he even looks rather young despite being in his fourties. Everyone who has seen him here often have picked up that he is an alcoholic. Looking rather gloomy as always he slumps onto one of the barstools.
Osmorn leans heavily onto the bar, supported by his elbows, and gets the bartenders attention with a sigh, "2 fingers of whiskey. Neat."
He turns to finally take in the commotion of the place. Another sigh. He wouldn't even dream of gambling, thumbing the single silver coin in his pocket. He's gotten plenty of jobs to track down people before but this time it was different. Could he truly become a hero? His mind races until he spots most of the group he has been tasked with helping. Finally working up the gumption to sit with them he mentions to the bartender to have his drink sent to their table.
Osmorn casually walks toward their table and slouches in one of the chairs. "Ah I did not notice you there comrades. Seems we have a grand expedition on our hands, no?"
"Aye. Fourteen quests.", Tarwun replies to Fenly's greeting.
As Osmorn strolls over, Tarwun frowns in mild confusion. How could he not notice a goliath in the corner? Maybe it is lowlander humor.
"Bit short on details. Maybe part of the test?"
He looks around for Kirren or Sara, raising three fingers and gesturing for a meal to be brought for Osmorn... even if the fellow prefers to drink most of his meals, either Tarwun or the halfling will make sure the food finds a warm home.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Osmorn - The half-orc barkeep nods to you as he finishes serving another patron and begins pouring your drink, you notice he doesn't reach for the top shelf whiskey this time, but the middling to fair whiskey on the lower shelves, "Sure. I 'eard you lot 'ave finished yer trainin' now. I s'pose yer gonna be makin' some real coin now, eh? So long as the goblins and undead don't do ye in." He sets your glass down in front of you and places both hands on the bar as he leans in and says in a quieter but no less gruff voice, "Come to think of it, better ye tell me where yer 'eaded 'fore ye go, so I know where to send the bill for yer tab." His yellow eyes stare unblinking at you for a moment before he turns away and begins serving another at the bar.
Osmorn's body goes rigid at the half-orc's words. He should have expected this sooner than later. Charity surely doesn't last forever...
He looks up to the bartender, taking note of the age in his hair before addressing him, "I-I appreciate your kindness as of late. The thing is...I still can't pay you...I think this new job could really go well though yeah. If you could extend that kindness a bit further...You'll have your money, and my gratitude."
A dark skinned half-elf walks in, wearing tinted lenses over his eyes, carrying a well made sword and shield, but little else. As he looks over to the group of other trainees he joins them at the table, and though the desert is far, as he sits down you can almost smell the sand and heat coming from him, almost. "A mead please." Korba says, flashing the signet ring on his finger with the sign of a well known noble house, though not from this area. Once the drink arrives he magically chills it and takes a drink. Looking to the others he says, "It is good we will be working together. I've observed some of the other trainees, many of them lack the skills needed. I think we will be able to complement each other."
Tarwun, Fenly, & Osmorn - Sara brings your food and drink and sets it before you. She has the same green eyes and frizzled brown hair kept in a braid as that of her mother, Kirren, but she is also taller than most all of you and her skin is more gray like her father Orem the barkeep, than the rosy peach of her mother. Also thanks to her paternal lineage, two small tusk-like teeth just barely point above her bottom lip, "Here you are sirs, the usual. I hear congratulations are in order, word around the taproom is that you lot are full-fledged heroes, freshly christened by the great Mentor himself." She winks at you all and says, "Anything else I can get for you?"
Osmorn - Orem sighs and says, "Sure... No worries friend human, I... I'm sorry fer my tone, it's nothin' to do with ye, I've somethin' else buggin' me and I took it out on ye. I know yer good for it, hells, if ye can survive that crazy Mentor's trainin' I doubt a few runty goblins'll trouble ye much." Another patron settles in at the bar and signals to Orem, "Anyway, don't fret over it none. If nothin' else Mentor'll foot the bill." With that he goes back to tending the bar.
Tarwun nods his head in thanks, but snorts at being called heroes. "Not heroes until we do something heroic. But Mentor is sending us on a job in the morning."
When Sara and Orem depart, "Think it really is goblins?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM:Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Osmorn gives Sara a faint smile and responds quickly, "Ah, no dear. Nothing else for me, thank you. We definitely are no heroes yet though." He already feels as if he's been taking advantage of this generous family and their business, he couldn't possibly ask for more.
Afterwards he directs his attention toward Tarwun's question, "Honestly, we can only hope it's just goblins. Orem had nonchalantly said something about undead. Not really hard evidence but always better to be prepared." He finishes by looking down at his drink and twirling it a couple times before sipping on it slowly.
“Greetings everyone, and thanks Sara”, Fenly says as he tears off a bit of bread and dunks it in the stew. The others had put her straight about their hero status so he didn’t feel the need to address that.
He pops the bread into his mouth and chews. “Well at least I can look a goblin in the eyes when I dispatch them, it’s a bit more difficult with undead. For many reasons!”, he adds with his mouth full of bread and a hearty chuckle, imagining their empty eye sockets. Even he himself can’t tell if the joke was to hide some nervousness.
"Goblins, though not much of a threat on their own, can easily overwhelm you. It's best to be prepared. We should learn all that we can before becoming 'heroes'."Korba says with a chuckle at the last word.
All - The evening passes uneventfully as you relax and speculate over the nature of your coming quests. You each retire for the night, whether to your rooms for sleep or elsewhere for otherwise. In the morning you are greeted by the delicious smell of Orem's famous spiced potatoes, bacon, eggs, and fresh baked bread. As you enjoy your breakfast, a young dwarven girl scampers into the taproom from outside, her courier bag bouncing against her side as the goes up to the bar and speaks with Kerrin. Kerrin points to your table and the courier hurries over to you. Her coppery locks are gathered into a messy bun beneath a leather cap and her smiles as she digs in the large bag at her hip, "Got somefin' for ye. From the Mad Mage 'imself! 'Ere ye are!" She produces an envelope that is sealed with a large daub of dark red wax, a heavily stylized M is pressed into it. As you all look at the envelope, the girl fidgets for a bit, as if awaiting something, "Err... 'tis customary to tip. Sirs."
Taking the envelope from the young girl and seeing her waiting around, Korba reaches into his pouch and pulls out a silver coin and places it in her hand, closing her fingers around it, saying with a smile, looking at her through his shaded glasses, “Go buy something sweat little one. Off with ya!” He then pulls out his dagger and cuts into the envelope, keeping the wax M intact. Pulling the paper out from the envelope he begins to read it aloud to the group, stopping only to take a sip of breakfast beer to quench his mouth from the salty, but delicious, bacon.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Korba - The girl's large gray eyes widen at the sight of silver in her hand, "Wow, thank ye!" She then stuffs it in her pocket and hurries out the door.
For DM's eyes only:
Courier DC 13 (Korba's Passive Perception) Sleight of Hand Check: 12
Looking back at your plate after the courier has left, you could swear you had more bacon than what lies there now...
Inside the envelope are two folded pieces of parchment, one is a letter and the other a map. The letter reads:
You have learned well, my friends. Now has come the time of your first trial. You must first enter the catacombs that contain Fellmarg's tomb. You must seek out and destroy Verag, a foul gargoyle that hides in the catacombs. This quest is not easy, and you must work together in order to survive. This is your first step on the road to becoming true heroes. Tread carefully, my friends.
The map marks a location deep inside a mist shrouded forest that is about a day's march from your current location, the town of Daggerford.
Fenly finishes off his breakfast and takes a long draught of the breakfast ale to wash it down. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and then leans back in his chair.
"So what news from up high?", he asks expectantly.
Korba chuckles as he reads the note, saying, “It seems our source confused Goblin with Gargoyle.” He then picks up his fork and stabs it down into his plate where there should have been bacon. Putting together what likely happened he looks towards the door where the girl has long since gone through and laughs, saying, half to himself, “It seems there are dangers even here in the pub!” Then to the group adds, “I’m as ready as any to be off after we break fast. Is there anything the rest of you need before being off?”
The fire burns warmly, but casts little light into Mentor's study. The flickering shadows only hint at the vast number of books and scrolls that fill the many shelves. Slowly, mentor walks over to the fire.
"Well, my friends, your training is complete. You are not yet true heroes; you have yet to prove yourselves. But first, let me tell you of Zargon..."
Mentor rests one hand upon the mantle of the fireplace and leans into it while the other hand fiddles absentmindedly with a small crystal orb. He gazes into the flames, the back of his red-trimmed black robes facing you all and the tall red cowl obscuring his face. Golden symbols along the red trim pulse with faint golden light as he speaks,
"Many centuries ago, Zargon was my apprentice. The young sorcerer worked hard and learned quickly. But impatience devoured Zargon, who wanted to learn more powerful magic. I spoke of the dangers, and cautioned patience, for in time my apprentice would become a great sorcerer. But Zargon could not wait, breaking into my study each night to read my spell books. The secrets held within them were great indeed. Upon learning these secrets, Zargon fled."
Mentor turns from the flames to look at the crystal orb in his hand, you can just see the firelight reflected in his eyes and a stern scowl upon his face. He clenches the orb tightly and turns back to the fire,
"When I caught up with Zargon, I found my former apprentice greatly changed, having pledged allegiance to the great powers of Dread. Fool! Zargon saw magic only as a shortcut to power and paid no heed to the terrible price that would have to be paid. I tried to reason with Zargon, but to no avail. The evil sorcerer laughed in my face and then unleashed a terrible spell that I was hard-pressed to counter. For many days we battled, but Zargon had allies stronger even than I, and I could not defeat them. In the end, as we both weakened, Zargon fled and sought refuge in the Northern Dread Wastes. There the evil sorcerer licked battle wounds and honed skills, conjuring ancient powers with which to overthrow the Realm."
"I must observe and measure the strength of Zargon's magic. The powers the evil sorcerer has called upon will destroy us all if I relax from this vigil. Zargon's legions threatened us once before. Then it was Rogar who aided me and defeated them. Now they are on the march again; already they have assailed the Borderlands. The Realm must again look for heroes and to this end I have trained you."
Mentor turns from the fireplace and faces you all. He is tall and surprisingly hale for his age and he cuts an imposing figure in his red and black robes. Shoulder length white hair is swept back into the cowl and his braided mustaches lay atop a lengthy white beard. Amber-colored eyes regard you all for a moment before he continues,
"Each of you must complete fourteen quests. If you do this, you will be acclaimed as champions of the Realm and dubbed Sovereign Knights. Only then will you be on the road to becoming true heroes. I shall speak to you again on your return. If you return..."
Mentor bids you all farewell and retires to his private chambers. In the hall of his great manse, you are greeted by an androgynous elven servant in dark red fineries. You all are acquainted with Talonovar, having met them a few times before on past trips to Mentor's home, "I will show you out, come along please." Talonovar keeps a brisk pace as they lead you through the wide halls and down the marble staircase to two great wooden doors at the front of the mansion, "A runner shall be sent to the Quill and Quillon Inn tomorrow morning with instructions regarding your first quest. Do see that you embark upon this task as soon as possible. Good night." The heavy doors are closed without waiting for your reply.
You find the Quill and Quillon at the corner of an intersection of dirt roads up ahead. As you approach you hear music and banter coming from within the Inn. You also hear a creaking sound and look up to find a wooden sign swinging lazily in the stiff Autumn breeze. The sign says The Quill & Quillon and below the name you see a crossed sword and a quill are painted on the sign. The paint is peeling, but the place is lively enough. You enter the Inn and are greeted by delicious smells, simple, but catchy music, and the usual din of tavern noise. You see a balding half-orc man with salt and pepper mutton chops behind the bar, pouring drinks for patrons. A three piece band is playing a lively tune to a few folks dancing in a small clear space before the stage. You hear cheers and curses and look to your left to see a few tables offering varying gambling games. You also notice a few empty tables near the back of the room, they seem to be a little less rowdy than the rest of the tavern.
Please describe your character and what they are doing after entering the Inn, a few options have been listed above, but feel free to come up with your own if you so choose. It is assumed that you all are at least acquaintances, having trained under Mentor together for a few months now. Your rooms and board are being paid for by Mentor, though drinks and any meals outside a standard breakfast, lunch, and dinner are not covered.
DM I The Forge of Fey Fury
Palifwan "Pal" Turnipson I Level 0 Harengon I Hero's Journey
Tarwun eases through the crowd, reflexively ducking his head as he makes his way to an empty table, catching the eye of a server as he goes. Drink makes some of these lowlanders stupid, he was baffled by the first drunk that wanted to pick a fight with him as an obvious outsider. Fool man. And his fool friends. At least the lowlanders he's been paired with are competent enough to trust at his back. If the old man's right, they'll be tested soon.
The big goliath eases his weight down onto a sturdy bench, and nods at the server as they approach. "Stew, hot. Bread. Ale."
He leans back, eyes scanning the common room. While he didn't speak to the others about his intent to take a table, they would know they are welcome to join him if they wished, but that his tastes don't lean towards singing along with the music, or rolling the dice or otherwise carousing. Folks familiar with his presence would know he largely wants to be left alone, so Tarwun's table may serve as a bit of a respite for the others who wish to take a break from gambling or the like.
((Do we already have rooms here? He'd tend to carry his belongings with him, but if we've been put up here for a while, Tarwun may now be leaving some of his stuff in his room.))
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
The door to the inn opens and a stocky halfling makes his way in. Fenly is dressed in natural coloured traveller’s clothes with a shield on his back and a war pick hanging from his side. Over one shoulder is a short bow, but on his short frame it looks the size of a long bow. Over the other is a quiver. Although he is loaded with equipment, he seems to carry it easily.
He looks around with intense blue eyes, looking for any familiar faces. Seeing Tarwun, who is impossible to miss, sat at a table he heads over to join the much larger goliath.
“I’ll take the same as he is having”, he says to one of the serving people as he passes, motioning towards the goliath.
He pulls up a chair at the table. “Well met Tarwun. It appears we will be travelling companions for a while”
Tarwun & Fenly - A middle-aged woman in a simple brown dress with a white apron over the top is carrying an inordinate amount of large mugs as you pass. She hears you and nods, "Aye, the usual for ye then. Sara'll have it out to ye shortly." The woman, you know her as Kirren, from your time at the Inn, manages to wend her way through the crowded tap room and set the mugs down upon a far table without spilling a drop of their contents. The lively bunch at the table cheer for her and clap before claiming their drinks.
DM I The Forge of Fey Fury
Palifwan "Pal" Turnipson I Level 0 Harengon I Hero's Journey
A slightly short, pale skinned human man enters the Quill and Quillon and heads towards the bar immediately. Osmorn's blacked out clothing has sparse bits of purple fabric and a holy symbol of Helm hangs from his neck. Thanks to his elven ancestry he even looks rather young despite being in his fourties. Everyone who has seen him here often have picked up that he is an alcoholic. Looking rather gloomy as always he slumps onto one of the barstools.
Osmorn leans heavily onto the bar, supported by his elbows, and gets the bartenders attention with a sigh, "2 fingers of whiskey. Neat."
He turns to finally take in the commotion of the place. Another sigh. He wouldn't even dream of gambling, thumbing the single silver coin in his pocket. He's gotten plenty of jobs to track down people before but this time it was different. Could he truly become a hero? His mind races until he spots most of the group he has been tasked with helping. Finally working up the gumption to sit with them he mentions to the bartender to have his drink sent to their table.
Osmorn casually walks toward their table and slouches in one of the chairs. "Ah I did not notice you there comrades. Seems we have a grand expedition on our hands, no?"
"Aye. Fourteen quests.", Tarwun replies to Fenly's greeting.
As Osmorn strolls over, Tarwun frowns in mild confusion. How could he not notice a goliath in the corner? Maybe it is lowlander humor.
"Bit short on details. Maybe part of the test?"
He looks around for Kirren or Sara, raising three fingers and gesturing for a meal to be brought for Osmorn... even if the fellow prefers to drink most of his meals, either Tarwun or the halfling will make sure the food finds a warm home.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Osmorn - The half-orc barkeep nods to you as he finishes serving another patron and begins pouring your drink, you notice he doesn't reach for the top shelf whiskey this time, but the middling to fair whiskey on the lower shelves, "Sure. I 'eard you lot 'ave finished yer trainin' now. I s'pose yer gonna be makin' some real coin now, eh? So long as the goblins and undead don't do ye in." He sets your glass down in front of you and places both hands on the bar as he leans in and says in a quieter but no less gruff voice, "Come to think of it, better ye tell me where yer 'eaded 'fore ye go, so I know where to send the bill for yer tab." His yellow eyes stare unblinking at you for a moment before he turns away and begins serving another at the bar.
DM I The Forge of Fey Fury
Palifwan "Pal" Turnipson I Level 0 Harengon I Hero's Journey
Osmorn's body goes rigid at the half-orc's words. He should have expected this sooner than later. Charity surely doesn't last forever...
He looks up to the bartender, taking note of the age in his hair before addressing him, "I-I appreciate your kindness as of late. The thing is...I still can't pay you...I think this new job could really go well though yeah. If you could extend that kindness a bit further...You'll have your money, and my gratitude."
Persuasion Check: 21
Tarwun scratches his head.
"They keep track of how much you get, then you have to pay it later? Seems... complicated.", the big goliath muses.
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
A dark skinned half-elf walks in, wearing tinted lenses over his eyes, carrying a well made sword and shield, but little else. As he looks over to the group of other trainees he joins them at the table, and though the desert is far, as he sits down you can almost smell the sand and heat coming from him, almost. "A mead please." Korba says, flashing the signet ring on his finger with the sign of a well known noble house, though not from this area. Once the drink arrives he magically chills it and takes a drink. Looking to the others he says, "It is good we will be working together. I've observed some of the other trainees, many of them lack the skills needed. I think we will be able to complement each other."
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Tarwun, Fenly, & Osmorn - Sara brings your food and drink and sets it before you. She has the same green eyes and frizzled brown hair kept in a braid as that of her mother, Kirren, but she is also taller than most all of you and her skin is more gray like her father Orem the barkeep, than the rosy peach of her mother. Also thanks to her paternal lineage, two small tusk-like teeth just barely point above her bottom lip, "Here you are sirs, the usual. I hear congratulations are in order, word around the taproom is that you lot are full-fledged heroes, freshly christened by the great Mentor himself." She winks at you all and says, "Anything else I can get for you?"
Osmorn - Orem sighs and says, "Sure... No worries friend human, I... I'm sorry fer my tone, it's nothin' to do with ye, I've somethin' else buggin' me and I took it out on ye. I know yer good for it, hells, if ye can survive that crazy Mentor's trainin' I doubt a few runty goblins'll trouble ye much." Another patron settles in at the bar and signals to Orem, "Anyway, don't fret over it none. If nothin' else Mentor'll foot the bill." With that he goes back to tending the bar.
DM I The Forge of Fey Fury
Palifwan "Pal" Turnipson I Level 0 Harengon I Hero's Journey
Tarwun nods his head in thanks, but snorts at being called heroes. "Not heroes until we do something heroic. But Mentor is sending us on a job in the morning."
When Sara and Orem depart, "Think it really is goblins?"
DM: Forged in Chaos, Spiders of the Abyss, The Sundered Way, Champions of the Citadel
Active Characters:
Breldo, Halfling Ranger | Kathryn, Wood Elf Rogue/Ranger | Kroshav, Dragonborn Paladin | T'laren Farsiel, Wood Elf Fighter | Trill, Kenku Bard | Val "Janellae", Mark of Shadow Elf Warlock
Osmorn gives Sara a faint smile and responds quickly, "Ah, no dear. Nothing else for me, thank you. We definitely are no heroes yet though." He already feels as if he's been taking advantage of this generous family and their business, he couldn't possibly ask for more.
Afterwards he directs his attention toward Tarwun's question, "Honestly, we can only hope it's just goblins. Orem had nonchalantly said something about undead. Not really hard evidence but always better to be prepared." He finishes by looking down at his drink and twirling it a couple times before sipping on it slowly.
“Greetings everyone, and thanks Sara”, Fenly says as he tears off a bit of bread and dunks it in the stew. The others had put her straight about their hero status so he didn’t feel the need to address that.
He pops the bread into his mouth and chews. “Well at least I can look a goblin in the eyes when I dispatch them, it’s a bit more difficult with undead. For many reasons!”, he adds with his mouth full of bread and a hearty chuckle, imagining their empty eye sockets. Even he himself can’t tell if the joke was to hide some nervousness.
"Goblins, though not much of a threat on their own, can easily overwhelm you. It's best to be prepared. We should learn all that we can before becoming 'heroes'." Korba says with a chuckle at the last word.
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
All - The evening passes uneventfully as you relax and speculate over the nature of your coming quests. You each retire for the night, whether to your rooms for sleep or elsewhere for otherwise. In the morning you are greeted by the delicious smell of Orem's famous spiced potatoes, bacon, eggs, and fresh baked bread. As you enjoy your breakfast, a young dwarven girl scampers into the taproom from outside, her courier bag bouncing against her side as the goes up to the bar and speaks with Kerrin. Kerrin points to your table and the courier hurries over to you. Her coppery locks are gathered into a messy bun beneath a leather cap and her smiles as she digs in the large bag at her hip, "Got somefin' for ye. From the Mad Mage 'imself! 'Ere ye are!" She produces an envelope that is sealed with a large daub of dark red wax, a heavily stylized M is pressed into it. As you all look at the envelope, the girl fidgets for a bit, as if awaiting something, "Err... 'tis customary to tip. Sirs."
DM I The Forge of Fey Fury
Palifwan "Pal" Turnipson I Level 0 Harengon I Hero's Journey
Taking the envelope from the young girl and seeing her waiting around, Korba reaches into his pouch and pulls out a silver coin and places it in her hand, closing her fingers around it, saying with a smile, looking at her through his shaded glasses, “Go buy something sweat little one. Off with ya!” He then pulls out his dagger and cuts into the envelope, keeping the wax M intact. Pulling the paper out from the envelope he begins to read it aloud to the group, stopping only to take a sip of breakfast beer to quench his mouth from the salty, but delicious, bacon.
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM:
Korba - The girl's large gray eyes widen at the sight of silver in her hand, "Wow, thank ye!" She then stuffs it in her pocket and hurries out the door.
For DM's eyes only:
Courier DC 13 (Korba's Passive Perception) Sleight of Hand Check: 12
Looking back at your plate after the courier has left, you could swear you had more bacon than what lies there now...
Inside the envelope are two folded pieces of parchment, one is a letter and the other a map. The letter reads:
You have learned well, my friends. Now has come the time of your first trial. You must first enter the catacombs that contain Fellmarg's tomb. You must seek out and destroy Verag, a foul gargoyle that hides in the catacombs. This quest is not easy, and you must work together in order to survive. This is your first step on the road to becoming true heroes. Tread carefully, my friends.
The map marks a location deep inside a mist shrouded forest that is about a day's march from your current location, the town of Daggerford.
DM I The Forge of Fey Fury
Palifwan "Pal" Turnipson I Level 0 Harengon I Hero's Journey
Fenly finishes off his breakfast and takes a long draught of the breakfast ale to wash it down. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and then leans back in his chair.
"So what news from up high?", he asks expectantly.
Korba chuckles as he reads the note, saying, “It seems our source confused Goblin with Gargoyle.” He then picks up his fork and stabs it down into his plate where there should have been bacon. Putting together what likely happened he looks towards the door where the girl has long since gone through and laughs, saying, half to himself, “It seems there are dangers even here in the pub!” Then to the group adds, “I’m as ready as any to be off after we break fast. Is there anything the rest of you need before being off?”
PbP 🎲: Tyekanik; Moneo Noree; Korba Muris; & occasional DM: