airwalkrr
Adventurer
"One common," the Watch guard said brusquely without so much as a "welcome" or "please" as you entered the River Quarter. Everyone passing through one of Greyhawk's gates between various parts of the city or entering from the wharf along the river handed the guard a copper common as they passed by. For natives of the Free City of Greyhawk, it was a reminder of the city's severe reputation. For those new to the so-called "Gem of the Flanaess" it was a rather harsh first impression.
And the people of Greyhawk do not necessarily inspire a sense of opportunity. Most are poor, and within the River Quarter at least, there are beggars on every corner ranging in age from young whelps to the elderly. They try to play upon your pity as you walk the stinking streets and no doubt their occasional close contact was some attempt on their part to pick your pocket. Fortunately, you arrived at the Green Dragon Inn with your purse intact. But there are few signs of the great prosperity the city is said to enjoy. What you see is far more suggestive of a cramped, filthy city full of destitute and downtrodden people.
It is 576 CY, over a decade after the renowned Citadel of Eight set out from the Green Dragon Inn to make their fortunes in the nearby Cairn Hills and ruins of Castle Greyhawk, making themselves very rich in the process. At least that is what you have heard. You are hoping that you can follow in their footsteps, become a wealthy or famous adventurer, and, most important of all, survive to retire. But rich and powerful adventurers scheming plans is not the sight you see as you enter the Green Dragon.
It is evening, and the two-story stone building is alive with activity, the sound of boisterous laughs and the sight of flickering windows attracting custom from all quarters of the city. Most of the shabby clientele are locals, dockway bully-boys or bargefolk looking for cheap drinks and good atmosphere. The Dragon provides the latter in quantity, for its proprietor does little to quell light violence and overtly encourages enthusiastic drinking and carousing. Weapons and armor are allowed (and, you gather, a wise precaution). It is a dangerous place but a friendly one, as long as no one harms the staff. A fierce warning painted upon a wooden placard hangs from chains attached to the ceiling: "Do NOT abuse the staff or you WILL be flogged," a clear and concise message to all.
The Green Dragon’s inviting taproom is swelling to capacity. There are perhaps fifty patrons of various ilk this fine Moonday eve. Against the back wall, to the right of the expansive and well-stocked bar, is a raised platform supporting a private dining area with a fireplace and a long mahogany table capable of seating eight. It is unoccupied at the moment, but the locals refer to this place as the “Lord’s Table,” and you quickly gather that it might be the very place where the legendary adventuring company known as the Citadel of Eight planned their adventures. Perhaps one day you will have a place here.
There is a menu on a chalkboard behind the bar. Along with a listing of various drinks available for purchase, such as house ale, dwarven brandy, and elven firewine, there is a description of food available for order. Along with the usual bread and cheese available at most any tavern, the kitchen’s specialty is “Quij’s Plate,” described by the bartender (a friendly bald man with muscular forearms) as a heaping bowl of sausages and potatoes large enough to please an ogre.
The bar is standing room only. There are only a couple of tables available. While most are occupied by dockworkers, the strange raven-haired bargefolk referred to by some as the Rhenee, and city-folk of generally modest means, you do spy some who appear as if they are as ready for adventure as you. One table is occupied by a red-haired dwarf, a beady-eyed man, a boisterous woman, and a solemn cloaked individual. All appear armed, armored, or otherwise equipped for an expedition of some sort. They have what seems to be a map in the center of their table that seems the center of discussion, but they quickly roll it up when anyone, including a barmaid approaches their table. There are also a few individuals examining the "Jobs and Bounties" board, where various offers for work have been posted. You also note others who appear equipped or otherwise ready for adventuring milling about the taproom.
Which of these people or postings might lead you down the road to wealth or fame? Who will become friends? Who might become enemies? Your adventure awaits!
And the people of Greyhawk do not necessarily inspire a sense of opportunity. Most are poor, and within the River Quarter at least, there are beggars on every corner ranging in age from young whelps to the elderly. They try to play upon your pity as you walk the stinking streets and no doubt their occasional close contact was some attempt on their part to pick your pocket. Fortunately, you arrived at the Green Dragon Inn with your purse intact. But there are few signs of the great prosperity the city is said to enjoy. What you see is far more suggestive of a cramped, filthy city full of destitute and downtrodden people.
It is 576 CY, over a decade after the renowned Citadel of Eight set out from the Green Dragon Inn to make their fortunes in the nearby Cairn Hills and ruins of Castle Greyhawk, making themselves very rich in the process. At least that is what you have heard. You are hoping that you can follow in their footsteps, become a wealthy or famous adventurer, and, most important of all, survive to retire. But rich and powerful adventurers scheming plans is not the sight you see as you enter the Green Dragon.
It is evening, and the two-story stone building is alive with activity, the sound of boisterous laughs and the sight of flickering windows attracting custom from all quarters of the city. Most of the shabby clientele are locals, dockway bully-boys or bargefolk looking for cheap drinks and good atmosphere. The Dragon provides the latter in quantity, for its proprietor does little to quell light violence and overtly encourages enthusiastic drinking and carousing. Weapons and armor are allowed (and, you gather, a wise precaution). It is a dangerous place but a friendly one, as long as no one harms the staff. A fierce warning painted upon a wooden placard hangs from chains attached to the ceiling: "Do NOT abuse the staff or you WILL be flogged," a clear and concise message to all.
The Green Dragon’s inviting taproom is swelling to capacity. There are perhaps fifty patrons of various ilk this fine Moonday eve. Against the back wall, to the right of the expansive and well-stocked bar, is a raised platform supporting a private dining area with a fireplace and a long mahogany table capable of seating eight. It is unoccupied at the moment, but the locals refer to this place as the “Lord’s Table,” and you quickly gather that it might be the very place where the legendary adventuring company known as the Citadel of Eight planned their adventures. Perhaps one day you will have a place here.
There is a menu on a chalkboard behind the bar. Along with a listing of various drinks available for purchase, such as house ale, dwarven brandy, and elven firewine, there is a description of food available for order. Along with the usual bread and cheese available at most any tavern, the kitchen’s specialty is “Quij’s Plate,” described by the bartender (a friendly bald man with muscular forearms) as a heaping bowl of sausages and potatoes large enough to please an ogre.
The bar is standing room only. There are only a couple of tables available. While most are occupied by dockworkers, the strange raven-haired bargefolk referred to by some as the Rhenee, and city-folk of generally modest means, you do spy some who appear as if they are as ready for adventure as you. One table is occupied by a red-haired dwarf, a beady-eyed man, a boisterous woman, and a solemn cloaked individual. All appear armed, armored, or otherwise equipped for an expedition of some sort. They have what seems to be a map in the center of their table that seems the center of discussion, but they quickly roll it up when anyone, including a barmaid approaches their table. There are also a few individuals examining the "Jobs and Bounties" board, where various offers for work have been posted. You also note others who appear equipped or otherwise ready for adventuring milling about the taproom.
Which of these people or postings might lead you down the road to wealth or fame? Who will become friends? Who might become enemies? Your adventure awaits!
|
Last edited:
