The dust has settled. The flames extinguished. Children counted, then recounted. Though the Barons never stole anyone away, they always left the already ramshackle buildings bare as a corpse. Every trinket, treasure and family heirloom, stripped from their homes. A large crowd has gathered in the middle of the main road. Mayor Silas Burntroot stands atop an empty crate, lifting his frame slightly above the rabble. His voice calls out like two weary stones dragging across each other; "People of Bellton. It is time we take the fight to these scoundrels. We can take action, or starve here in cowardice. I will divide up all the able bodied folk, and we will chase these Barons out of these parts." The crowd lets out an exasperated cheer. They want to be excited, but every tire, hungry bone in their body is telling them to give up the fight and accept their fate.
Mayor Burntroot begins sorting people into smaller parties. He hand selects the groups, seemingly at random, but with some sort of careful rational before each selection. Burntroot has always been an eccentric character so nobody really argues with his methods. He eventually has everyone grouped and then begins sending them into different directions, with different missions, as if he were a great combat general, though you know he is not....
Mayor Burntroot
You look at your companions for this journey and see;
A mysterious stranger. The locals call him The Raven. He lives in a small cabin outside of town, he has strange and powerful technology that no one has seen before.
The Raven
(OC: Go ahead and make an introduction like the one above)
Lyn’daran, a wood elf with the face and arms tattoed with intricate patterns, is sitting in a barrel, patiently cleaning his longbow with a pieces of dark silk. He is been around the town for a few days now, and few had heard him speak, but when he does he uses a soft, calm tone, almost a whisper. Wearing a leather armor and clad in dark green clothes with a cloack of the same color, he keeps his belongins in a backpack at the barrel’s side. He looks at the others with what seems to be apathy while they get ready to go.
Standing a few feet to the left of Lyn'daran, a red-haired halfling by the name of Chester Thumpfoot stands waiting. He's wearing simple dark clothing, holds a spear in one hand, and absentmindedly twirls a crowbar in the other. He had just come into town about a week ago, looking for a spot to stay for a bit.
Observing the mayor and the town around him with curiosity, Azzad stands close to the others, distractedly fiddling with the hilt of the scimitar at his belt. He wears simple leathers that looks cruder and more pelt-like than a typical set of leather armor, and his bronze skin stands out against the fairer skin of his wood elf cousin nearby, but his pointed ears and sharp eyes identify him as Elvish.His dark hair was pulled back, and interwoven among the strands were a few vibrant feathers.These aiano do so much to tame the nature around them. How strange.He thought to himself, his eyes sweeping over the shoddy settlement.
He eyes the one they call The Raven and the strange contraption he holds at his side. He is curious to see how these aiano will handle the bandits they seek.
Zannan stands near this raven person against a wall. Trying to blend in and be as unseen as possible. He doesn’t understand all these people and why they have come to be on this island of his birth. For all his attempts to blend with the crowd he knows it will not work his height onyx skin color and obsidian eyes are just too different from the regular populace. He is bare chested with simple tattered black pants. On his back is his gear with his great sword strapped over it. His mace at his side and some javelins.
"I'm not sure we know where we are going just yet." Azzad chirps to the Halfling, cocking his head to the side slightly. "Do we have any idea where these farino make camp? Perhaps one of our quiet friends know the answer." He looks to Lyn’daran and The Raven expectantly.
" I could try to track them for you if you want." he looks directly to Chester. Not menancingly, but long enough to make it akward. It's like he is waiting for an answer.
"Okay, okay, quiet down. You're the last group. How about you head along the North East trail." Burntroot's voice is hoarse now from barking orders. "If you find any of the Barons, bring me their head." He turns, his shoulders slump in defeat. It seems like this is his last stand, and he is not confident in it. He hands you a stack of parchments, wanted posters for each Baron.
Azzad flips through the pages one by one, using his slender finger to trace the faces of each with a morbid curiosity. "And these farino, what do we know about them?" He asked the flustered old man when he was done, looking down at him quizzically.
"Well, they are in charge of the whole gang. They've got a bunch a' fools that sided with them, and I reckon they're raisen some sort of army." Burntroot turns to you and in an exhausted voice says "They all serve 'His Lordship.; We really don't know much about them other than that it seems like they have some sort of organization. When they raid, they raid together, but when they leave the scatter. They must have a central outpost somewhere out there. It's hard to say though. This wretched island isn't exactly mapped yet." With this he holds his hand on his forehead for a moment before saying; "godspeed all. godspeed."
Zannan finally speaks in his gravely voice “about how many people does ‘a bunch a fools’ really represent, and what kind of fools are we talking about?”
Chester looks to the group and says, "Well, like Burntroot said, they scatter after things like this, so we shouldn't be facing more than a handful. I do think we should introduce ourselves before we get started though. The name's Chester, Chester Thumpfoot. And what should I call you all?"
The dust has settled. The flames extinguished. Children counted, then recounted. Though the Barons never stole anyone away, they always left the already ramshackle buildings bare as a corpse. Every trinket, treasure and family heirloom, stripped from their homes. A large crowd has gathered in the middle of the main road. Mayor Silas Burntroot stands atop an empty crate, lifting his frame slightly above the rabble. His voice calls out like two weary stones dragging across each other; "People of Bellton. It is time we take the fight to these scoundrels. We can take action, or starve here in cowardice. I will divide up all the able bodied folk, and we will chase these Barons out of these parts." The crowd lets out an exasperated cheer. They want to be excited, but every tire, hungry bone in their body is telling them to give up the fight and accept their fate.
Mayor Burntroot begins sorting people into smaller parties. He hand selects the groups, seemingly at random, but with some sort of careful rational before each selection. Burntroot has always been an eccentric character so nobody really argues with his methods. He eventually has everyone grouped and then begins sending them into different directions, with different missions, as if he were a great combat general, though you know he is not....
Mayor Burntroot
You look at your companions for this journey and see;
A mysterious stranger. The locals call him The Raven. He lives in a small cabin outside of town, he has strange and powerful technology that no one has seen before.
The Raven
(OC: Go ahead and make an introduction like the one above)
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
Lyn’daran, a wood elf with the face and arms tattoed with intricate patterns, is sitting in a barrel, patiently cleaning his longbow with a pieces of dark silk. He is been around the town for a few days now, and few had heard him speak, but when he does he uses a soft, calm tone, almost a whisper. Wearing a leather armor and clad in dark green clothes with a cloack of the same color, he keeps his belongins in a backpack at the barrel’s side. He looks at the others with what seems to be apathy while they get ready to go.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Standing a few feet to the left of Lyn'daran, a red-haired halfling by the name of Chester Thumpfoot stands waiting. He's wearing simple dark clothing, holds a spear in one hand, and absentmindedly twirls a crowbar in the other. He had just come into town about a week ago, looking for a spot to stay for a bit.
Observing the mayor and the town around him with curiosity, Azzad stands close to the others, distractedly fiddling with the hilt of the scimitar at his belt. He wears simple leathers that looks cruder and more pelt-like than a typical set of leather armor, and his bronze skin stands out against the fairer skin of his wood elf cousin nearby, but his pointed ears and sharp eyes identify him as Elvish. His dark hair was pulled back, and interwoven among the strands were a few vibrant feathers.These aiano do so much to tame the nature around them. How strange. He thought to himself, his eyes sweeping over the shoddy settlement.
He eyes the one they call The Raven and the strange contraption he holds at his side. He is curious to see how these aiano will handle the bandits they seek.
Chester looks over at the last of the group as he puts away his crowbar, sizing him up.
Zannan stands near this raven person against a wall. Trying to blend in and be as unseen as possible. He doesn’t understand all these people and why they have come to be on this island of his birth. For all his attempts to blend with the crowd he knows it will not work his height onyx skin color and obsidian eyes are just too different from the regular populace. He is bare chested with simple tattered black pants. On his back is his gear with his great sword strapped over it. His mace at his side and some javelins.
"Is this everybody in our group?" asks Chester. He prepares to leave.
Zannan grunts as he adjusts his gear to make sure everything is where he wants it and moves to join Chester.
"I'm not sure we know where we are going just yet." Azzad chirps to the Halfling, cocking his head to the side slightly. "Do we have any idea where these farino make camp? Perhaps one of our quiet friends know the answer." He looks to Lyn’daran and The Raven expectantly.
"I could try to track them, but I'm guessin' most of ya are better at it than me," says Chester. "Anyone wanna give it a go?"
With a low, calm voice the wood elf says
" I could try to track them for you if you want." he looks directly to Chester. Not menancingly, but long enough to make it akward. It's like he is waiting for an answer.
PbP Character: A few ;)
Everyone:
"Okay, okay, quiet down. You're the last group. How about you head along the North East trail." Burntroot's voice is hoarse now from barking orders. "If you find any of the Barons, bring me their head." He turns, his shoulders slump in defeat. It seems like this is his last stand, and he is not confident in it. He hands you a stack of parchments, wanted posters for each Baron.
WANTED:
KALISONE ALBITAN
DEAD: 500GP
ALIVE: 750GP
WANTED
KORVIN OAKHART
DEAD: 550GP
ALIVE: 800GP
WANTED
IVAN "THE HAWK" KOLSAZ
DEAD: 625GP
ALIVE: 800GP
WANTED
DELLA UMBRIDGE
DEAD: 1000GP
ALIVE: 1500GP
WANTED
"HIS LORDSHIP"
DEAD: 3000GP
ALIVE: 5000GP
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
Chester looks through the posters, then passes them around. "Well, I guess we do as the mayor says. Who wants to lead the way?"
Azzad flips through the pages one by one, using his slender finger to trace the faces of each with a morbid curiosity. "And these farino, what do we know about them?" He asked the flustered old man when he was done, looking down at him quizzically.
Azzad:
"Well, they are in charge of the whole gang. They've got a bunch a' fools that sided with them, and I reckon they're raisen some sort of army." Burntroot turns to you and in an exhausted voice says "They all serve 'His Lordship.; We really don't know much about them other than that it seems like they have some sort of organization. When they raid, they raid together, but when they leave the scatter. They must have a central outpost somewhere out there. It's hard to say though. This wretched island isn't exactly mapped yet." With this he holds his hand on his forehead for a moment before saying; "godspeed all. godspeed."
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
Zannan finally speaks in his gravely voice “about how many people does ‘a bunch a fools’ really represent, and what kind of fools are we talking about?”
Zannan
"About a hundred armed and trained thugs I bet." Burntroot says, now looking at Zannan
||PbP: Tarvyn's World... DM||
Chester looks to the group and says, "Well, like Burntroot said, they scatter after things like this, so we shouldn't be facing more than a handful. I do think we should introduce ourselves before we get started though. The name's Chester, Chester Thumpfoot. And what should I call you all?"
“My name is Zannan, well met Chester.” States Zannan.
"I go by Azzad. I look forward to joining you all on your hunt." Azzad bows his head to the rest of the group briefly.