Your travels are almost don't. After weeks (months, years even) on the road you are nearing your chosen destination.
The Sun rises over the town of Highbluffton. Famous as the childhood home of the King and his brothers.
The day starts like all the others on the trip so far. You all have been traveling from Capital city to Norend along the King's road with a caravan of roughly 40 wagons including 10 or so adventurers with the same goal in mind as you. It's been smooth so far 15 days into the two 10 day trip. The sky is clear and the morning fog is burning off quickly. Today promises to be a fine one.
While getting breakfast in the camp just outside town. The caravan master walks up to the gathering.
Caravan Master: Friends this morning marks our last day in the central lands. Going forward the road gets rougher and more dangerous. As such I know some of you are adventurers traveling north in search of fame and glory. Well if your willing we can use a few extra guards for the rest of the trip. It pays a gold a day, payment on arrival.
About half of the adventurers volunteer include you all. The other grumble about hang overs or not worth it for so little pay.
Caravan Master: I was hoping for more but I'll take what I can get. You five take the front you lot take the back.
The 4 of you plus a boy no older then 16 starts walking to the back of the caravan.
Micky Klaus: Hi are yall adventurers too? I'm hoping to make enough to never work in a bakery again. He laughs. Sorry I'm Micky Klaus from the capital city east end 3d street. Me da is a baker, I hate baking hours suck and so dies the pay..... he continues on all the way to the wagon you all will be riding in.
You all climb into the last cart with a nod from the guard at the reins. You hear the familiar whistle marking the caravan to set off.
Micky: So where are yall from? What's your story? We still got 5 days to go might as well get to know each other. Who knows we might end up working on the same jobs for the Duke.
A young and handsome half elf turns toward Mickey and eyes him thoughtfully. The half elf is young (37), with curly blonde hair that reaches down to his shoulders. His eyes are a clear ocean blue. He has light tan skin that glimmers slightly in the light. He wears a light blue collar button up shirt under his light leather armor, and tattered green calf length pants. Attached to his hips are a dagger and a rapier. By his feet, a small chest and a back pack. The half elf smiles, such a charming smile. He speaks to Micky and eyes the rest of the group.
“Yes, Micky, it does seem we have some time to kill together. Let’s make the most of it!” He talks to Micky, but looks around at the rest of the group, introducing himself to the lot. “My names Maziara. I’ve lived a nomadic lifestyle and consider the whole of Westerra to be my home. And this here...” Maziara nods down to his pan flute “is how I’ve made my living. I’m a bard.” He says this with pride and a quick wink of the eye. “Music, performance, and charm. That’s what I offer to the Duke. Every good adventuring group needs a bard, someone to lighten the mood and put vigor in the hearts of the troop.” Maziara smiles and turns to the rest of the group. ”so, who’s next?” He says playfully, as he waits to see who will introduce themselves next.
Cruncface is tall, probably six foot six, and has an immensely built frame. He’s got the typical green-gray skin of orcs, tusks except that they’re slightly smaller than a pureblood orcs, he’s got multiple scars from the combat that’s so much a part of the orcish life. His air and eyes are a dark black, and he’s definitely not what you’d call handsome, at least in human terms. He’s young, maybe 24 or so.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
If I haven’t offended you, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll get to you eventually.
"Nice to meet you Mike, my name is Sam, Sam Goodfellow from Bayview. I'm in the garrison stationed there... well up till now." Sam reaches in his pocket and unfolds a paper and holds it up in front of him. "By order of his Lordship Duke Norry Highbluff. You are to report to Sir Boris Graybeard to support his master the Duke Henry Highbluff in his campaign to retame the North. You are to act as a freelancer and will not be a member of the Northern Armies. Report to Norend by end of 2 moons. Your orders end when recalled or released by Sir Greybeard."
"In my whole career I've never received an order from a 'Lordship'. "
Sam is a tall (6'4"), medium build human with chainmail armor and a long pike. His equipment is simple and looks more about function then fashion.
Slightly larger in stature than the average Tabaxi, Marley moves gracefully as he climbs nimbly into the wagon. Taking a seat he quietly pulls back a dark grey hood to reveal mottled black and dark orange fur. Dressed in battered leather armour, he's carrying a backpack with other gear strapped to it, looking like he's ready for a serious expedition. Gold-flecked amber eyes shine below white tufts of fur sticking out from his longish pointed ears, as he looks around at the group intently.
"Well met, I am called Marley," he speaks the common tongue with an accent. "I am from the Southlands, Alta Saltu." Yellowed sharp canine and incisor teeth show as he grins and nods, giving the others a polite bow. "Perhaps fate has brought us together today."
“Lovely to meet you all.” Maziara says joyfully. He eyes both Crunchface and Marley. “I must say I haven’t spent much time with either Orc or Tabaxi. I do hope you’ll share some of your stories along the way.”
Maziara, in true bard fashion, is always looking for lore to weave into his music.
Micky Klaus: Maybe Lifa's light guided us together will be cool to see what's in store for us. I've never met an Tabaxi or an Orc either, this trip has been so fun so far. No wait once a Tabaxi came into our shop once...
The day rolls on without much event. The open rolling hills soon gives way to the more forested mountains of the north.
Micky: So what types of weapons yall use. I've got no formal training my self but baking gives you a bit of arm strength and I took my da's mallet. I've spent most of the tr....
Cart Driver: Shut up boy! You have not stopped talking aince we pushed off. You got 2 ears use em and give your month a rest, and do your job.
Marley as the cart, goes awkwardly silent. With your passive perception you notice the bird song has stopped.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Marley puts a clawed furry finger up to his mouth, then whispers "Trouble maybe."
He quickly readies his shortbow, moving up to the front of the wagon in a low crouch. Taking what cover he can, he scans the roadsides for any movement.
Seeing Marley ready his bow, Sam looks to Mickey “do you have a weapon? Better ready it now”. If not, he will hand him a hand axe. Sam readies his longbow.
Sam pulls out a large wooden mallet. Looking very worried a light sweat forms on his brow.
Guard: what you see cat?
The guard pulls out his whistle and gives a short series of blows. From up ahead you see the caravan master riding back.
With a 21 you catch glimpses of dark shadows in the trees and on the hills surrounding the path. It's hard to say but you think there could be between 5 and 10 of them.
These shadows are too well covered to get a good shot at or to see what exactly they are.
Crunchface sees the cat watching something over in the trees and looks over there as well, squinting to try to get a glimpse of whatever it is. “What you think it is?”
Maziara closes his eyes and listens intently. He grips his panflute a little tighter and rests one hand on his dagger. He shifts his wait a bit, appearing ready to move at a moments notice.
Master: Sigh.. its too soon the goblins dont usually press this far south.
Guard: Thinking its a raiding party. 10 be about right.
The Caravan Master pulls out his whistle and gives 2 short blasts and a long one. It takes a second but the caravan starts to pick up paces as all the guards start to look alert and ready.
Master: We need to push to the summit we are sitting ducks here. We can circle the wagons there. Lets hope they dont attack before then. We are rolling a bit larger then normal.
The Caravan Master gallops off to the front of the line.
As time goes on you all can here whooping and other noises from the trees around the wagon train.
Guard: *&@^ This is bad, sounds like a lot more then 10 of them. I dont think we are going make it to the summit.
The caravn pushes up the slope getting faster all the time. The guard stands up suddenly looking ahead. There is the crest of the hill with the promos of safety on the other side but blocking the path is a large boulder... Its starts to roll. The Wagons at the front are abandoned as the boulder smashes into them.
Roll initiative.
A note on how I run combat. Nat 20s are double max damage. i.e. If you normally roll 1d12+3 you would always do 30 dmg on a nat 20. Nat 1s end your turn and you drop your weapon requiring you to use an item interaction on your next turn to pick it up. This also goes for the baddies.
A nat 20 on initiative give you a surprise round and a nat 1 you are surprised.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
A grin spreads over Crunch’s face. He is half orc, after all, and raised in an orc war band. He catches up his mace and staff and begins chanting a war song in orcish.
Initiative: 11
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
If I haven’t offended you, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll get to you eventually.
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Your travels are almost don't. After weeks (months, years even) on the road you are nearing your chosen destination.
The Sun rises over the town of Highbluffton. Famous as the childhood home of the King and his brothers.
The day starts like all the others on the trip so far. You all have been traveling from Capital city to Norend along the King's road with a caravan of roughly 40 wagons including 10 or so adventurers with the same goal in mind as you. It's been smooth so far 15 days into the two 10 day trip. The sky is clear and the morning fog is burning off quickly. Today promises to be a fine one.
While getting breakfast in the camp just outside town. The caravan master walks up to the gathering.
Caravan Master: Friends this morning marks our last day in the central lands. Going forward the road gets rougher and more dangerous. As such I know some of you are adventurers traveling north in search of fame and glory. Well if your willing we can use a few extra guards for the rest of the trip. It pays a gold a day, payment on arrival.
About half of the adventurers volunteer include you all. The other grumble about hang overs or not worth it for so little pay.
Caravan Master: I was hoping for more but I'll take what I can get. You five take the front you lot take the back.
The 4 of you plus a boy no older then 16 starts walking to the back of the caravan.
Micky Klaus: Hi are yall adventurers too? I'm hoping to make enough to never work in a bakery again. He laughs. Sorry I'm Micky Klaus from the capital city east end 3d street. Me da is a baker, I hate baking hours suck and so dies the pay..... he continues on all the way to the wagon you all will be riding in.
You all climb into the last cart with a nod from the guard at the reins. You hear the familiar whistle marking the caravan to set off.
Micky: So where are yall from? What's your story? We still got 5 days to go might as well get to know each other. Who knows we might end up working on the same jobs for the Duke.
DM: Please introduce your characters.
Here, busy at the moment.
If I haven’t offended you, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll get to you eventually.
Crunchface Bloodspur, the half-orc sorcerer, shifts his immense frame in its seat, spits, and hefts his mace. “I am Crunchface.”
If I haven’t offended you, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll get to you eventually.
DM: Please discribe what your character looks like as well.
A young and handsome half elf turns toward Mickey and eyes him thoughtfully. The half elf is young (37), with curly blonde hair that reaches down to his shoulders. His eyes are a clear ocean blue. He has light tan skin that glimmers slightly in the light. He wears a light blue collar button up shirt under his light leather armor, and tattered green calf length pants. Attached to his hips are a dagger and a rapier. By his feet, a small chest and a back pack. The half elf smiles, such a charming smile. He speaks to Micky and eyes the rest of the group.
“Yes, Micky, it does seem we have some time to kill together. Let’s make the most of it!” He talks to Micky, but looks around at the rest of the group, introducing himself to the lot. “My names Maziara. I’ve lived a nomadic lifestyle and consider the whole of Westerra to be my home. And this here...” Maziara nods down to his pan flute “is how I’ve made my living. I’m a bard.” He says this with pride and a quick wink of the eye. “Music, performance, and charm. That’s what I offer to the Duke. Every good adventuring group needs a bard, someone to lighten the mood and put vigor in the hearts of the troop.” Maziara smiles and turns to the rest of the group. ”so, who’s next?” He says playfully, as he waits to see who will introduce themselves next.
“Hello, Maziara.” Crunchface says.
Cruncface is tall, probably six foot six, and has an immensely built frame. He’s got the typical green-gray skin of orcs, tusks except that they’re slightly smaller than a pureblood orcs, he’s got multiple scars from the combat that’s so much a part of the orcish life. His air and eyes are a dark black, and he’s definitely not what you’d call handsome, at least in human terms. He’s young, maybe 24 or so.
If I haven’t offended you, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll get to you eventually.
"Nice to meet you Mike, my name is Sam, Sam Goodfellow from Bayview. I'm in the garrison stationed there... well up till now." Sam reaches in his pocket and unfolds a paper and holds it up in front of him. "By order of his Lordship Duke Norry Highbluff. You are to report to Sir Boris Graybeard to support his master the Duke Henry Highbluff in his campaign to retame the North. You are to act as a freelancer and will not be a member of the Northern Armies. Report to Norend by end of 2 moons. Your orders end when recalled or released by Sir Greybeard."
"In my whole career I've never received an order from a 'Lordship'. "
Sam is a tall (6'4"), medium build human with chainmail armor and a long pike. His equipment is simple and looks more about function then fashion.
D&D since 1984
Slightly larger in stature than the average Tabaxi, Marley moves gracefully as he climbs nimbly into the wagon. Taking a seat he quietly pulls back a dark grey hood to reveal mottled black and dark orange fur. Dressed in battered leather armour, he's carrying a backpack with other gear strapped to it, looking like he's ready for a serious expedition. Gold-flecked amber eyes shine below white tufts of fur sticking out from his longish pointed ears, as he looks around at the group intently.
"Well met, I am called Marley," he speaks the common tongue with an accent. "I am from the Southlands, Alta Saltu." Yellowed sharp canine and incisor teeth show as he grins and nods, giving the others a polite bow. "Perhaps fate has brought us together today."
“Lovely to meet you all.” Maziara says joyfully. He eyes both Crunchface and Marley. “I must say I haven’t spent much time with either Orc or Tabaxi. I do hope you’ll share some of your stories along the way.”
Maziara, in true bard fashion, is always looking for lore to weave into his music.
Micky Klaus: Maybe Lifa's light guided us together will be cool to see what's in store for us. I've never met an Tabaxi or an Orc either, this trip has been so fun so far. No wait once a Tabaxi came into our shop once...
The day rolls on without much event. The open rolling hills soon gives way to the more forested mountains of the north.
Micky: So what types of weapons yall use. I've got no formal training my self but baking gives you a bit of arm strength and I took my da's mallet. I've spent most of the tr....
Cart Driver: Shut up boy! You have not stopped talking aince we pushed off. You got 2 ears use em and give your month a rest, and do your job.
Marley as the cart, goes awkwardly silent. With your passive perception you notice the bird song has stopped.
Marley puts a clawed furry finger up to his mouth, then whispers "Trouble maybe."
He quickly readies his shortbow, moving up to the front of the wagon in a low crouch. Taking what cover he can, he scans the roadsides for any movement.
Perception: 27
Seeing Marley ready his bow, Sam looks to Mickey “do you have a weapon? Better ready it now”. If not, he will hand him a hand axe. Sam readies his longbow.
D&D since 1984
Sam pulls out a large wooden mallet. Looking very worried a light sweat forms on his brow.
Guard: what you see cat?
The guard pulls out his whistle and gives a short series of blows. From up ahead you see the caravan master riding back.
With a 21 you catch glimpses of dark shadows in the trees and on the hills surrounding the path. It's hard to say but you think there could be between 5 and 10 of them.
These shadows are too well covered to get a good shot at or to see what exactly they are.
The caravan master arrives with a worried look.
Master: What is it?
"Not sure..." Marley growls. HIs ears twitch as he stares and points at the shadows. "Maybe ten or so... something hiding in the trees."
Crunchface sees the cat watching something over in the trees and looks over there as well, squinting to try to get a glimpse of whatever it is. “What you think it is?”
If I haven’t offended you, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll get to you eventually.
Maziara closes his eyes and listens intently. He grips his panflute a little tighter and rests one hand on his dagger. He shifts his wait a bit, appearing ready to move at a moments notice.
Master: Sigh.. its too soon the goblins dont usually press this far south.
Guard: Thinking its a raiding party. 10 be about right.
The Caravan Master pulls out his whistle and gives 2 short blasts and a long one. It takes a second but the caravan starts to pick up paces as all the guards start to look alert and ready.
Master: We need to push to the summit we are sitting ducks here. We can circle the wagons there. Lets hope they dont attack before then. We are rolling a bit larger then normal.
The Caravan Master gallops off to the front of the line.
As time goes on you all can here whooping and other noises from the trees around the wagon train.
Guard: *&@^ This is bad, sounds like a lot more then 10 of them. I dont think we are going make it to the summit.
The caravn pushes up the slope getting faster all the time. The guard stands up suddenly looking ahead. There is the crest of the hill with the promos of safety on the other side but blocking the path is a large boulder... Its starts to roll. The Wagons at the front are abandoned as the boulder smashes into them.
Roll initiative.
A note on how I run combat. Nat 20s are double max damage. i.e. If you normally roll 1d12+3 you would always do 30 dmg on a nat 20. Nat 1s end your turn and you drop your weapon requiring you to use an item interaction on your next turn to pick it up. This also goes for the baddies.
A nat 20 on initiative give you a surprise round and a nat 1 you are surprised.
Roll initiative: 18
Sam Init 5
D&D since 1984
A grin spreads over Crunch’s face. He is half orc, after all, and raised in an orc war band. He catches up his mace and staff and begins chanting a war song in orcish.
Initiative: 11
If I haven’t offended you, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll get to you eventually.