Red Larch is a town on the Long Road, a few days’ travel north of Waterdeep and a few days’ travel south of Triboar. It’s a way stop for caravans coming to or from the cities of the North, with an inn named the Swinging Sword, a tavern called the Helm at Highsun, and many craftspeople who cater to travelers
You have all been hired by the Towns Constable Harburk to investigate and deal with some strange goings on and bandits that have been plaguing the town.
He awaits your arrival in the Helm at Highsun, with some of the locals who have information on the issues you are here to deal with
Ooc : For the sake of easy reading if you choose a colour that’s not black and put it in bold for direct speech and then any NPC speech will look like this
"Yaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Me harties! I be Geltrix, first mate of the Wolverine and... Ha ha ha, that quite enough of that."
A swarthy, unsteady man approaches and holds out his hand in greeting. Smelling faintly of rum and disappointment, his accent quickly changes from mock Pirate to "over-the-top foppish dandy"
"Geltrix here, swashbuckling, suave, sociable, successful and, dare I say it, sumptuous!
Geltrix stands, in typical pirate attire for his day. 6 feet tall and with a large mane of black hair (Yes I'm living out my hair fantasy, live with it) A white shirt, open at the collar with a red neckerchief, under a dark blue waistcoat. A long tailed grey jacket with faded yellow braiding and buttons sits over it. A black belt sits across his waist, with twin daggers sat at either hip. Slung low, a long cutlass sits at his left hip.
So.. it would appear I'm not the only good looking idiot to get himself indebted to the constable! Anyone know what we're doing here?
As I go to sit down, I deftly steal a mans ale while he looks in the other direction and place my own empty flagon down in its place.
Harburk harrumphs irritably at Geltrix Yes yes I’ll explain all once the others are here. Now if you could try to keep your sticky fingers to yourself for five minutes? I promise you’ll get paid handsomely for your time and efforts. He scans the room. Arnnon I see you lurking over there! Come over here I need you to get acquainted with this irritatingly good looking reprobate and try to keep him out of trouble for the jobs I am hiring you for Harburk points towards a large table in the corner for everyone to gather around somewhat separated from the locals.
Lugnutz has been in the bar for some time. There is a faint whiff of old blood and cooked meat about him that generally means that in most places (especially civilised ones) he's left alone. He doesn't look much like a half orc - there's a hint of tusks and the stubble is definitely thicker than your average bear, but in the right light he could pass for human 'And did that surprise her when we got out of that barn, hur hur hur'.
Lugnutz is typically found wearing a hooded cape and some hard worn gear. It's not been washed in an unspeakably long time (and is almost now a fond souvenir of the blood and the meat). At just under 6 feet tall he was teased mercilessly by the others of clan Eiseneballen, until the day he slew 5 of his distant relations and used their remains in the construction of the greataxe Weregild.
He keeps reading (it's a challenge) the summons the Constable sent. He doesn't understand a lot about it - apart from the prospect of some reward and some killing.
Harburk coughs twice catching the smell. And he turns to a hooded figure who his sat at his table. You’re sure about this? And we expect at least one more? The figure nods. Ok well when the last has arrived I will explain all. Eiseneballen take a seat I’ll have some ale sent for you while wait for the last one to arrive. He should be here shortly.
The hooded figure sways suddenly and grips its head. The hood falls back and you see the young elven male under the hood grimace in pain. Harburk something has changed, we cannot wait any longer.
Harburk nods worriedly. It seems that time is against us. This young man is Galawain he is a Druid if one of the Uthgardt tribes that migrate through this area and the falcon tribe have always been friendly to us settlers here in Red Larch. Galawain came to us a week ago stating that he had received visions of an imbalance in nature that directly affected us here. He is unable to ascertain what is causing this imbalance or how to stop it but you three feature prominently in his vision. Hence why I have asked you here.
I believe that whatever is causing these visions is linked to the troubles we have been having of late. I have heard rumour that several hours south on the Cairn Road from here a small group of bandits have been causing mayhem on the local caravans. I would have you head there and remove them, permanently if possible. About half a days walk from the camp there is a ravine that the locals believe to be full of treasure, probably used as a safe haven for the bandits I’ll gotten goods. I would recommend a visit there after the bandits are dealt with. I will have a runner waiting your arrival on the Larch Road east of the ravine with any further information with regards to work. I have an allowance to pay you for your efforts however I would like to point out that any valuables you retrieve will be bought by the local establishments at a favourable rate as a means of showing the towns gratitude for your efforts.
Harburk turns to Galawain Anything you would like to add?
Galawain nods. Yes. Thank you all for coming. I will be joining you on your excursion, I am trained in the healing arts and feel it would be best if you had someone along to patch up any injuries. Any questions?
Galawain laughs. I swear fornicating with a tree isn’t worth the rash. You’ll each get 10 gold for every job completed plus any spoils. His face sobers up. The bandits are small in number. No more than 4 by all accounts however they are targeting lone caravaners and farmers. If something isn't done about them they’ll gain numbers and become a more serious threat.
Arnnon steps forward out of the shadows, wary of those he has now to call allies. Dressed in a dark hooded cloak which reaches down to his ankles, concealing a mix of lightweight leather armour, thin garments and soft, light boots, perfect for stealth. Adorned on his back is his trusted bow and quiver, with a short sword on each hip. He lifts his head to scan the folk before him, taking in every detail. Having spent most of his years wandering the lands in isolation, trust is hard to come by for him, therefore a close eye will be kept but not too close.
He moves to the table, sitting opposite his new companions to continue his observations.
Galawain was honks for a moment. It is only four at this time. However that is just the first task Harburk has in mind for you and it makes more sense for a well rounded group to handle them than a solo operative. If there are no other questions i’ll See you in the morning and we can head out
That sounds wonderful nature man, see you on the morrow!
Geltrix turns to his new companions and ponders for half a second. A half Orc smelling of meat and a ranger that barely speaks. I'm not sure there is a more stereotypical group than us within 30 miles. Best complete the trio with a drunken pirate then!
Harburk groans at the exchange and sets up a tab. I expect to see the pair of you in the morning capable of telling which end to hold when you piss. Don’t stay up too late.
Narrator : they did not go to bed early.
The next morning Harburk and Galawain await the other three outside of the Helm at Highsun ready to head south towards the bandit camp
Geltrix wakes, slumped over the table he sat at the night before. Inexplicably his boot is attached to the rough wooden candlestick attached to the wall behind him. A small scruffy dog licks his bare foot. With bleary eyes, he looks about the room. Lugnutz is nowhere to be seen. A halfling has been lashed to an upright table, fast asleep, with two daggers and a rapier stuck in the wood at various points around him.
Ah yes... knife throwing contest... Oh ****...
Judging by the suns position, it's already time to meet the constable. Geltrix collects his things, unites the halfling, and makes for the Helm at Highsun
Lugnutz was dreaming. Dreaming of screaming. So when he rolled over and landed straight into the local river just outside the gates, he was not impressed. Dragging his sorry ass out, feeling like his head was home of a small burrowing rodent, he looks around.
In one of those curious moments that drives the sane from intoxicated to complete fearful sobriety, he has found at least 3 ears, a set of pickpockets tools and two flagons of wine.
Based on the assumption that there isn't excessive blood in the area, he's fairly confident he can stroll back into town.
The ears will make a tasty snack.
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Red Larch is a town on the Long Road, a few days’ travel north of Waterdeep and a few days’ travel south of Triboar. It’s a way stop for caravans coming to or from the cities of the North, with an inn named the Swinging Sword, a tavern called the Helm at Highsun, and many craftspeople who cater to travelers
You have all been hired by the Towns Constable Harburk to investigate and deal with some strange goings on and bandits that have been plaguing the town.
He awaits your arrival in the Helm at Highsun, with some of the locals who have information on the issues you are here to deal with
Ooc : For the sake of easy reading if you choose a colour that’s not black and put it in bold for direct speech and then any NPC speech will look like this
"Yaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Me harties! I be Geltrix, first mate of the Wolverine and... Ha ha ha, that quite enough of that."
A swarthy, unsteady man approaches and holds out his hand in greeting. Smelling faintly of rum and disappointment, his accent quickly changes from mock Pirate to "over-the-top foppish dandy"
"Geltrix here, swashbuckling, suave, sociable, successful and, dare I say it, sumptuous!
Geltrix stands, in typical pirate attire for his day. 6 feet tall and with a large mane of black hair (Yes I'm living out my hair fantasy, live with it) A white shirt, open at the collar with a red neckerchief, under a dark blue waistcoat. A long tailed grey jacket with faded yellow braiding and buttons sits over it. A black belt sits across his waist, with twin daggers sat at either hip. Slung low, a long cutlass sits at his left hip.
So.. it would appear I'm not the only good looking idiot to get himself indebted to the constable! Anyone know what we're doing here?
As I go to sit down, I deftly steal a mans ale while he looks in the other direction and place my own empty flagon down in its place.
Harburk harrumphs irritably at Geltrix Yes yes I’ll explain all once the others are here. Now if you could try to keep your sticky fingers to yourself for five minutes? I promise you’ll get paid handsomely for your time and efforts. He scans the room. Arnnon I see you lurking over there! Come over here I need you to get acquainted with this irritatingly good looking reprobate and try to keep him out of trouble for the jobs I am hiring you for Harburk points towards a large table in the corner for everyone to gather around somewhat separated from the locals.
Lugnutz has been in the bar for some time. There is a faint whiff of old blood and cooked meat about him that generally means that in most places (especially civilised ones) he's left alone. He doesn't look much like a half orc - there's a hint of tusks and the stubble is definitely thicker than your average bear, but in the right light he could pass for human 'And did that surprise her when we got out of that barn, hur hur hur'.
Lugnutz is typically found wearing a hooded cape and some hard worn gear. It's not been washed in an unspeakably long time (and is almost now a fond souvenir of the blood and the meat). At just under 6 feet tall he was teased mercilessly by the others of clan Eiseneballen, until the day he slew 5 of his distant relations and used their remains in the construction of the greataxe Weregild.
He keeps reading (it's a challenge) the summons the Constable sent. He doesn't understand a lot about it - apart from the prospect of some reward and some killing.
Harburk coughs twice catching the smell. And he turns to a hooded figure who his sat at his table. You’re sure about this? And we expect at least one more? The figure nods. Ok well when the last has arrived I will explain all. Eiseneballen take a seat I’ll have some ale sent for you while wait for the last one to arrive. He should be here shortly.
The hooded figure sways suddenly and grips its head. The hood falls back and you see the young elven male under the hood grimace in pain. Harburk something has changed, we cannot wait any longer.
Harburk nods worriedly. It seems that time is against us. This young man is Galawain he is a Druid if one of the Uthgardt tribes that migrate through this area and the falcon tribe have always been friendly to us settlers here in Red Larch. Galawain came to us a week ago stating that he had received visions of an imbalance in nature that directly affected us here. He is unable to ascertain what is causing this imbalance or how to stop it but you three feature prominently in his vision. Hence why I have asked you here.
I believe that whatever is causing these visions is linked to the troubles we have been having of late. I have heard rumour that several hours south on the Cairn Road from here a small group of bandits have been causing mayhem on the local caravans. I would have you head there and remove them, permanently if possible. About half a days walk from the camp there is a ravine that the locals believe to be full of treasure, probably used as a safe haven for the bandits I’ll gotten goods. I would recommend a visit there after the bandits are dealt with. I will have a runner waiting your arrival on the Larch Road east of the ravine with any further information with regards to work. I have an allowance to pay you for your efforts however I would like to point out that any valuables you retrieve will be bought by the local establishments at a favourable rate as a means of showing the towns gratitude for your efforts.
Harburk turns to Galawain Anything you would like to add?
Galawain nods. Yes. Thank you all for coming. I will be joining you on your excursion, I am trained in the healing arts and feel it would be best if you had someone along to patch up any injuries. Any questions?
A pleasure, for both of us, I'm sure. I have but three questions.
1. Do we have rough numbers of the bandits?
2. Have the attacks been indiscriminate or selective in thier targets?
3. How many trees do you hug, on average, a day?
I mean no offence, of course, I'm genuinely interested! I love nature! Birds and stuff, splendid! Let's talk cash!
I rest on my firearm, across the table as I say this and lean into the last question.
Galawain laughs. I swear fornicating with a tree isn’t worth the rash. You’ll each get 10 gold for every job completed plus any spoils. His face sobers up. The bandits are small in number. No more than 4 by all accounts however they are targeting lone caravaners and farmers. If something isn't done about them they’ll gain numbers and become a more serious threat.
Arnnon steps forward out of the shadows, wary of those he has now to call allies. Dressed in a dark hooded cloak which reaches down to his ankles, concealing a mix of lightweight leather armour, thin garments and soft, light boots, perfect for stealth. Adorned on his back is his trusted bow and quiver, with a short sword on each hip. He lifts his head to scan the folk before him, taking in every detail. Having spent most of his years wandering the lands in isolation, trust is hard to come by for him, therefore a close eye will be kept but not too close.
He moves to the table, sitting opposite his new companions to continue his observations.
“What be these strange going ons you speak of?”
”4? I can deal with those myself, why the need for three of us?”
Arnnon glances at Geltrix “not sure about this one” he thinks, he seems only concerned in his own ill gotten gains.
Galawain was honks for a moment. It is only four at this time. However that is just the first task Harburk has in mind for you and it makes more sense for a well rounded group to handle them than a solo operative. If there are no other questions i’ll See you in the morning and we can head out
That sounds wonderful nature man, see you on the morrow!
Geltrix turns to his new companions and ponders for half a second. A half Orc smelling of meat and a ranger that barely speaks. I'm not sure there is a more stereotypical group than us within 30 miles. Best complete the trio with a drunken pirate then!
Geltirx raises his eyebrow.
Well compadres... Drink?
Geltrix was right about one thing, this was not a group you’d expect to come together.
”Tis a kind offer but I do not drink and the smell of rotting meat is a bit much” glancing at Lugnutz.
”I shall take me leave and reconvene upon the sunrise”
Arnnon rises from the table, nods to each of his new companions before wandering off into the dark.
Well then tusks... that just leaves me and you! Whaddaya say?
Will I have a drink? Does it come by the barrel?
Harburk groans at the exchange and sets up a tab. I expect to see the pair of you in the morning capable of telling which end to hold when you piss. Don’t stay up too late.
Narrator : they did not go to bed early.
The next morning Harburk and Galawain await the other three outside of the Helm at Highsun ready to head south towards the bandit camp
Ouch...
Geltrix wakes, slumped over the table he sat at the night before. Inexplicably his boot is attached to the rough wooden candlestick attached to the wall behind him. A small scruffy dog licks his bare foot. With bleary eyes, he looks about the room. Lugnutz is nowhere to be seen. A halfling has been lashed to an upright table, fast asleep, with two daggers and a rapier stuck in the wood at various points around him.
Ah yes... knife throwing contest... Oh ****...
Judging by the suns position, it's already time to meet the constable. Geltrix collects his things, unites the halfling, and makes for the Helm at Highsun
Lugnutz was dreaming. Dreaming of screaming. So when he rolled over and landed straight into the local river just outside the gates, he was not impressed. Dragging his sorry ass out, feeling like his head was home of a small burrowing rodent, he looks around.
In one of those curious moments that drives the sane from intoxicated to complete fearful sobriety, he has found at least 3 ears, a set of pickpockets tools and two flagons of wine.
Based on the assumption that there isn't excessive blood in the area, he's fairly confident he can stroll back into town.
The ears will make a tasty snack.