FitzTheRuke
Legend
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D&D 5E (IC) Scourge of Daggerford
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FitzTheRuke
Legend
Scourge of Daggerford Chapter One: Daggerford
Tommi, Jyn's Boy
When Tommi got out of jail, the guard said "See you soon."
Within an hour, he was visiting his mom, arriving with a bag of groceries, but he soon popped off for an afternoon at the Daggerthrust Alehouse. He never unpacked the groceries, and his mom ended up eating alone that night, and so it was that by midnight, Tommi was at the Lady Luck Tavern, playing cards.
He wouldn't win a lot at first: small bets, appear to drink more than he did, friendly and easy and folding often. That was enough to get Stumpy to trust him. The dwarf's name wasn't stumpy, but Tommi couldn't pronounce Stompi correctly, or he chose not to be able to. Stumpy was the fish, and by dawn he was hooked; and by the end of the week, he had sold his armour and his axe, all to make that big bet that would win all he had lost back.
Which was when Tommi made his big finishing move, taking Stumpy (and the rest of the table) by surprise, winning all that had accumulated over a week of play. But the dwarf had a temper, and had increasingly taken to drinking too much. Words were had, and then fists. A table was turned, and soon there was a full-on brawl.
The proprietor, Glenys, laughed until things got out of hand, and then she sent for the constable, who arrived in time to see someone defenestrated. All involved were rounded up roughly, Tommi roughest of all, though he had not been involved in the worst of the fighting. They spent the night in lockup, and fined to pay for damages. As Tommi was one of the few with any money, he was fined the worst.
Destitute, and fingered as the instigator, the dwarf, Stompi, was sent to serve time as a rower on one of the trading longboats, and left Daggerford the following morning in disgrace. Unable to come up with any excuses to keep him, the constable, Sherlen Miller, who's mother was close friends with Tommi's mother, shook her head in disgust and returned his property to him.
"Go take care of your poor mother," she scolded her childhood sweetheart, and sent him out.
When Tommi left the jailhouse, the guard winked and said "See you soon."
Tommi, Jyn's Boy
When Tommi got out of jail, the guard said "See you soon."
Within an hour, he was visiting his mom, arriving with a bag of groceries, but he soon popped off for an afternoon at the Daggerthrust Alehouse. He never unpacked the groceries, and his mom ended up eating alone that night, and so it was that by midnight, Tommi was at the Lady Luck Tavern, playing cards.
He wouldn't win a lot at first: small bets, appear to drink more than he did, friendly and easy and folding often. That was enough to get Stumpy to trust him. The dwarf's name wasn't stumpy, but Tommi couldn't pronounce Stompi correctly, or he chose not to be able to. Stumpy was the fish, and by dawn he was hooked; and by the end of the week, he had sold his armour and his axe, all to make that big bet that would win all he had lost back.
Which was when Tommi made his big finishing move, taking Stumpy (and the rest of the table) by surprise, winning all that had accumulated over a week of play. But the dwarf had a temper, and had increasingly taken to drinking too much. Words were had, and then fists. A table was turned, and soon there was a full-on brawl.
The proprietor, Glenys, laughed until things got out of hand, and then she sent for the constable, who arrived in time to see someone defenestrated. All involved were rounded up roughly, Tommi roughest of all, though he had not been involved in the worst of the fighting. They spent the night in lockup, and fined to pay for damages. As Tommi was one of the few with any money, he was fined the worst.
Destitute, and fingered as the instigator, the dwarf, Stompi, was sent to serve time as a rower on one of the trading longboats, and left Daggerford the following morning in disgrace. Unable to come up with any excuses to keep him, the constable, Sherlen Miller, who's mother was close friends with Tommi's mother, shook her head in disgust and returned his property to him.
"Go take care of your poor mother," she scolded her childhood sweetheart, and sent him out.
When Tommi left the jailhouse, the guard winked and said "See you soon."
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FitzTheRuke
Legend
Dandin Applebane
Dandin had cornered a local shepherd at the farmer's gate and had talked him down on all his fleeces. The man went away angry, and the halfling merchant was disappointed that he probably wouldn't be able to use this tactic again, but he led his donkey to market, and he set himself up selling the "finest fleece from the private stock of the Open Lord of Waterdeep".
At the high price he was asking for modest fleece, it took him awhile to find a buyer with a suitably dull-eye for wool, but he talked his product up with a sharp wit that the dubious eyes of the merchants at his neighbouring stalls turned to sparkles, laughter, and nods. Although well-known in the market, no-one could be quite sure that Dandin hadn't found a way to import Waterdhavian wool.
So after a few days, his neighbouring merchants confirmed to anyone who asked that Dandin had travelled all the way to Waterdeep for only the best wool, complicit in his tall tales. Buyers flocked to his cart, and Dandin moved fleece after mediocre fleece at easily three times what they were worth.
When his supply ran out, he packed up his cart, and took his little lockbox with him as he went into the Guildhall to pay his market fees. The long building behind the market was a foreboding hall of grey stone and old oak, but Dandin had wandered it's drafty halls for years. He paid his dues to a dour Merchants' Guild accountant, and sat in a small room with a desk, scale, and a hard oak stool, counting his earnings while singing to himself.
His voice carried down the echoing halls, and it made more than one hardworking guilds-man look up from his work and smile.
Dandin had cornered a local shepherd at the farmer's gate and had talked him down on all his fleeces. The man went away angry, and the halfling merchant was disappointed that he probably wouldn't be able to use this tactic again, but he led his donkey to market, and he set himself up selling the "finest fleece from the private stock of the Open Lord of Waterdeep".
At the high price he was asking for modest fleece, it took him awhile to find a buyer with a suitably dull-eye for wool, but he talked his product up with a sharp wit that the dubious eyes of the merchants at his neighbouring stalls turned to sparkles, laughter, and nods. Although well-known in the market, no-one could be quite sure that Dandin hadn't found a way to import Waterdhavian wool.
So after a few days, his neighbouring merchants confirmed to anyone who asked that Dandin had travelled all the way to Waterdeep for only the best wool, complicit in his tall tales. Buyers flocked to his cart, and Dandin moved fleece after mediocre fleece at easily three times what they were worth.
When his supply ran out, he packed up his cart, and took his little lockbox with him as he went into the Guildhall to pay his market fees. The long building behind the market was a foreboding hall of grey stone and old oak, but Dandin had wandered it's drafty halls for years. He paid his dues to a dour Merchants' Guild accountant, and sat in a small room with a desk, scale, and a hard oak stool, counting his earnings while singing to himself.
His voice carried down the echoing halls, and it made more than one hardworking guilds-man look up from his work and smile.
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FitzTheRuke
Legend
Enseth
Trista was old. She was nearly a hundred, and in the seven decades that had passed since she had taken the position and office of her mentor, Gwaereth (that of court wizard to the Dukes of Daggerford), she had never seen his creation move. In fact,in her old age she had nearly forgotten that it was a construct, and not yet another suit of armour like the many that decorated the Ducal Castle. But today, suddenly and without warning, it stepped off the platform on which it had rested for so many decades, (dusted by scores of maids) and nearly scared her to death.
This was no joke - the old woman's heart was not quite as strong as it had once been. She had just been busy in her work, preparing a draught for the duke that would ease his often troubled sleep, when the gleaming armour had marched with purpose across the floor of her laboratory and down the spiral staircase to the Duke's Library below. She had called out to it, but it hadn't responded.
Immediately the construct had searched the shelf for books on Thay, a nation far to the east, built on the back of slavery, ruled by the infamous Szass Tam and the schemes of his Red Wizards. There was little to find, but what there was the construct appeared to be rapidly memorising. It would get a book (the ladder creaking under it's weight), and flip through the pages, then slam the book shut and return it to the exact place it had been taken from.
A long-forgotten memory returned to Trista, of Gwaereth, sitting in his study speaking softly as if to a child, to the unattached head of this very construct as he had tinkered with it. Beyond bringing him some parts and supplies, Trista had not been involved, but she had kept many of her mentor's old notes. She returned to her laboratory slowly, as her knees were not as good on the stairs as they had once been. She found her keys, removed some smaller boxes, and opened an old chest. Inside were papers, yellowed and stained from the passage of time. Finding what she was looking for, she nodded and shut the chest.
Returning down the stairs, she found the construct had moved on to her personal shelf of magical tomes. (The current Duke rarely used the Library - but his sister did, and she allowed the old wizard to keep her own books within the library itself when her laboratory had become too cluttered.)
Proud of herself for having found the name that Gwaereth the Gray had given it, Trista called out to the contruct, "Enseth!"
The construct's obsession calmed to a profound interest, as it calculated that it could not act alone, and would have to find allies if it were to eventually complete it's mission.
Trista was old. She was nearly a hundred, and in the seven decades that had passed since she had taken the position and office of her mentor, Gwaereth (that of court wizard to the Dukes of Daggerford), she had never seen his creation move. In fact,in her old age she had nearly forgotten that it was a construct, and not yet another suit of armour like the many that decorated the Ducal Castle. But today, suddenly and without warning, it stepped off the platform on which it had rested for so many decades, (dusted by scores of maids) and nearly scared her to death.
This was no joke - the old woman's heart was not quite as strong as it had once been. She had just been busy in her work, preparing a draught for the duke that would ease his often troubled sleep, when the gleaming armour had marched with purpose across the floor of her laboratory and down the spiral staircase to the Duke's Library below. She had called out to it, but it hadn't responded.
Immediately the construct had searched the shelf for books on Thay, a nation far to the east, built on the back of slavery, ruled by the infamous Szass Tam and the schemes of his Red Wizards. There was little to find, but what there was the construct appeared to be rapidly memorising. It would get a book (the ladder creaking under it's weight), and flip through the pages, then slam the book shut and return it to the exact place it had been taken from.
A long-forgotten memory returned to Trista, of Gwaereth, sitting in his study speaking softly as if to a child, to the unattached head of this very construct as he had tinkered with it. Beyond bringing him some parts and supplies, Trista had not been involved, but she had kept many of her mentor's old notes. She returned to her laboratory slowly, as her knees were not as good on the stairs as they had once been. She found her keys, removed some smaller boxes, and opened an old chest. Inside were papers, yellowed and stained from the passage of time. Finding what she was looking for, she nodded and shut the chest.
Returning down the stairs, she found the construct had moved on to her personal shelf of magical tomes. (The current Duke rarely used the Library - but his sister did, and she allowed the old wizard to keep her own books within the library itself when her laboratory had become too cluttered.)
Proud of herself for having found the name that Gwaereth the Gray had given it, Trista called out to the contruct, "Enseth!"
The construct's obsession calmed to a profound interest, as it calculated that it could not act alone, and would have to find allies if it were to eventually complete it's mission.
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gargoyleking
Adventurer
Dandin chuckled to himself one last time as he dropped the coins, one at a time, into his pouch. He enjoyed the sound almost too much. Drawing the pouch shut he sauntered out into the waning light of the sun. Blinking he looked about the guild hall yard and spying his cart, walked over to it. "Well Hanar, we had ourselves a very good day. Lets go pay our dues at the shrine and then see about getting a bit of rest."
After doing a quick check onnthe cart, Dandin climbed up and took the reigns. It was a fairly short trip distance, but the route took them through the market and past the Caravan gate. At this time of day, there was always bound to be a certain amount of backup so Dandin sat back on the bench nd took his ease as well he. Could. Eventually, they were past the worst of the traffic, and shortly parked outside of the shrine to Tymora.
Squirrels are evil!
After doing a quick check onnthe cart, Dandin climbed up and took the reigns. It was a fairly short trip distance, but the route took them through the market and past the Caravan gate. At this time of day, there was always bound to be a certain amount of backup so Dandin sat back on the bench nd took his ease as well he. Could. Eventually, they were past the worst of the traffic, and shortly parked outside of the shrine to Tymora.
Squirrels are evil!
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"Go take care of your poor mother," the constable had scolded him, and sent him out. They both smiled at each other.
"She misses you too, you know," he had responded.
When Tommi left the jailhouse, the guard winked and said "See you soon." Tommi ran his fingers through his hair as the morning sun hit him. He rubbed his teeth with his index finger, until he could find a mint leaf in someone's garden to fix his breath, and he headed towards the central well. The town council's new fountain was jammed again (something always ended up clogging those pipes), and so it was back to the same well that had been used since Daggerford had been founded, and this morning there were already a half dozen people, all women, queued up to fetch water.
Tommi buys himself a small bucket (5cp) and stands in line to fill it. He then brings the bucket to his mom's place, where he finds Jyn hard at work -- she will have begun working before dawn, when it was still quiet -- making a blanket.
He greets her with a kiss on the cheek, and she responds with "This is for Marigold." The arch of her eyebrow lets him know there's a story there, which begins as he covers the bucket in the pantry. It's a nice morning, and Tommi happily greets the regular array of visitors Jyn habitually receives, each paying court to a respected widow of the community.
Tommi sits through it all, one leg bouncing furiously in what appears to be impatience, but in fact is just excess energy. At one point he excuses himself, finds some soap and cleans himself up. In doing so, he's used half of the water he has brought.
When they are finally alone, Tommi says to her, "Ma?"
"Hm?"
"Nothing. Look. I'll be back in a bit. Take care now." He kisses her again, and heads off down the road, to find a tavern. "Maybe I'll try the Happy Cow."
"She misses you too, you know," he had responded.
When Tommi left the jailhouse, the guard winked and said "See you soon." Tommi ran his fingers through his hair as the morning sun hit him. He rubbed his teeth with his index finger, until he could find a mint leaf in someone's garden to fix his breath, and he headed towards the central well. The town council's new fountain was jammed again (something always ended up clogging those pipes), and so it was back to the same well that had been used since Daggerford had been founded, and this morning there were already a half dozen people, all women, queued up to fetch water.
Tommi buys himself a small bucket (5cp) and stands in line to fill it. He then brings the bucket to his mom's place, where he finds Jyn hard at work -- she will have begun working before dawn, when it was still quiet -- making a blanket.
He greets her with a kiss on the cheek, and she responds with "This is for Marigold." The arch of her eyebrow lets him know there's a story there, which begins as he covers the bucket in the pantry. It's a nice morning, and Tommi happily greets the regular array of visitors Jyn habitually receives, each paying court to a respected widow of the community.
Tommi sits through it all, one leg bouncing furiously in what appears to be impatience, but in fact is just excess energy. At one point he excuses himself, finds some soap and cleans himself up. In doing so, he's used half of the water he has brought.
When they are finally alone, Tommi says to her, "Ma?"
"Hm?"
"Nothing. Look. I'll be back in a bit. Take care now." He kisses her again, and heads off down the road, to find a tavern. "Maybe I'll try the Happy Cow."
FitzTheRuke
Legend
Lionel Hardcheese
"Lionel!" called his mother, Wilhelmina Hardcheese, "Is the mutton ready? Your sister is ready to take it up to Sir Isteval! Can't keep a Purple Knight waiting, dear!"
Lionel was on top of things. He quickly passed the perfectly cooked meat to his mother, who put it on the finest silver serving plate and passed it off to his sister, Hermione, who hustled up the stairs from the kitchen. His mother was short, even for a halfling, and she was nearly as wide as she was tall, but she made up for her stature with a personality to rival any ten taller folk. She was loud and hard-headed, but she was also generous and kind. She loved her son, but she had high expectations for him.
A few days later, she was at it again: "Lionel! she called, "Hammer Darrondar's tithe-box is stuck again! You don't want to anger Tempus do you? Let's keep wars away from Daggerford, shall we? That's a dear."
Lionel got out his small tools and made quick work of the bent lock. After giving a receipt to the dwarven priest who had come on behalf of the Table of the Sword, he deposited the money into the Hardcheese vault, hidden deep in their cellars, behind innocuous-looking (but smelly) cheese-ageing racks.
A few days later, "Lionel!" she said as they passed by a halfling selling trumped-up fleece at the market, "That poor fellow is going to be killed! What would your father say if we stood by and did nothing? You'd better help him!"
She drew his attention away from the wool-seller and to a human man who was struggling with a spirited horse. The animal reared and kicked as the man, standing in front, grabbed at the reins. It nearly cost him his head. Lionel rushed forward, and rolled under the animal as it turned toward him. He jumped up on a market stall's table and leaped into the saddle. The horse bucked once, but Lionel kept his seat. Speaking softly into the horses ear while gathering the reins, Lionel calmed the beast and returned it to it's grateful owner.
A few days later, "Lionel!" his mother called again. He came from the kitchen where he had been organising his spice-rack, expecting to find some task or another that needed immediate attention. His mother smiled and gave him a small bag of gold, "Why don't you take a few days off? You've had a busy week! Go out and enjoy yourself. Find a nice young woman!"
She winked and laughed, and his sister giggled.
"Lionel!" called his mother, Wilhelmina Hardcheese, "Is the mutton ready? Your sister is ready to take it up to Sir Isteval! Can't keep a Purple Knight waiting, dear!"
Lionel was on top of things. He quickly passed the perfectly cooked meat to his mother, who put it on the finest silver serving plate and passed it off to his sister, Hermione, who hustled up the stairs from the kitchen. His mother was short, even for a halfling, and she was nearly as wide as she was tall, but she made up for her stature with a personality to rival any ten taller folk. She was loud and hard-headed, but she was also generous and kind. She loved her son, but she had high expectations for him.
A few days later, she was at it again: "Lionel! she called, "Hammer Darrondar's tithe-box is stuck again! You don't want to anger Tempus do you? Let's keep wars away from Daggerford, shall we? That's a dear."
Lionel got out his small tools and made quick work of the bent lock. After giving a receipt to the dwarven priest who had come on behalf of the Table of the Sword, he deposited the money into the Hardcheese vault, hidden deep in their cellars, behind innocuous-looking (but smelly) cheese-ageing racks.
A few days later, "Lionel!" she said as they passed by a halfling selling trumped-up fleece at the market, "That poor fellow is going to be killed! What would your father say if we stood by and did nothing? You'd better help him!"
She drew his attention away from the wool-seller and to a human man who was struggling with a spirited horse. The animal reared and kicked as the man, standing in front, grabbed at the reins. It nearly cost him his head. Lionel rushed forward, and rolled under the animal as it turned toward him. He jumped up on a market stall's table and leaped into the saddle. The horse bucked once, but Lionel kept his seat. Speaking softly into the horses ear while gathering the reins, Lionel calmed the beast and returned it to it's grateful owner.
A few days later, "Lionel!" his mother called again. He came from the kitchen where he had been organising his spice-rack, expecting to find some task or another that needed immediate attention. His mother smiled and gave him a small bag of gold, "Why don't you take a few days off? You've had a busy week! Go out and enjoy yourself. Find a nice young woman!"
She winked and laughed, and his sister giggled.
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FitzTheRuke
Legend
Angis Honack
The stretches of wilderness between Daggerford and Waterdeep weren’t the most dangerous stretch of the Trade Way, but they still required caravan guards. Even though he was the regional head of the Honack family’s Golden Way Trade Consortium. Consisting of sponsored caravans, waystations, and costers along the trade routes from Kara Tur to Waterdeep, based in Westage, the end of the Golden Way, it formed a vast guild of merchants and traders stretching from the Savage North to Shou Lung.
And to Angis’ bane, he was charged with the northern reaches of the company, from Waterdeep to Baldur’s Gate, and stretching up to resurgent Neverwinter. There was even talk of tapping the scrimshaw trade from Icewind Dale, though that would mean negotiating with the Ships of Luskan.
Despite being the nominal head of the company in Waterdeep, Angis knew to leave such business dealings to those smarter and with a better grasp of money. He was a humble dwarf, and felt more at home living in Daggerford, just a few days’ travel from Waterdeep. Caravans needing guards passed through frequently enough that he had little trouble signing on for trips in both directions when he needed to check in with the Waterdeep offices.
This is where he preferred to spend his time, out in the wilderness, away from people. As the hours passed, he occasionally reached inside his chain shirt and pulled out a small oilskin package. Inside was a delicate pink handkerchief tied off with a silk ribbon and still holding the scent of a lady’s perfume. Inside was a lock of fine, red-gold hair. He usually only pulled it out at night. He inhaled the familiar perfume a moment before tucking it back inside where it would be safe.
Much of guard duty is simple, boring watchfulness, and this run proved no different. Occasionally there was a bout of mundane excitement, such as when a wagon got stuck in the muddy road and had to be pushed out. Thankfully on this run, there was no trouble. But that left listening to the Consortium’s steward in Waterdeep as he went over the business notes for the month and asked Angis for an evaluation of their plans for the next.
Angis had little real desire and knowledge of such things. He was merely doing his duty as the younger son. He gave a few vague comments and trusted the steward’s judgement in such matters. He wanted to be back in Daggerford, and so the next morning he set out and after a long journey, he strode into his rooms in the Silver Flood Inn. He took a wash before ending up at his favorite drinking spot, the Happy Cow Tavern.
The stretches of wilderness between Daggerford and Waterdeep weren’t the most dangerous stretch of the Trade Way, but they still required caravan guards. Even though he was the regional head of the Honack family’s Golden Way Trade Consortium. Consisting of sponsored caravans, waystations, and costers along the trade routes from Kara Tur to Waterdeep, based in Westage, the end of the Golden Way, it formed a vast guild of merchants and traders stretching from the Savage North to Shou Lung.
And to Angis’ bane, he was charged with the northern reaches of the company, from Waterdeep to Baldur’s Gate, and stretching up to resurgent Neverwinter. There was even talk of tapping the scrimshaw trade from Icewind Dale, though that would mean negotiating with the Ships of Luskan.
Despite being the nominal head of the company in Waterdeep, Angis knew to leave such business dealings to those smarter and with a better grasp of money. He was a humble dwarf, and felt more at home living in Daggerford, just a few days’ travel from Waterdeep. Caravans needing guards passed through frequently enough that he had little trouble signing on for trips in both directions when he needed to check in with the Waterdeep offices.
This is where he preferred to spend his time, out in the wilderness, away from people. As the hours passed, he occasionally reached inside his chain shirt and pulled out a small oilskin package. Inside was a delicate pink handkerchief tied off with a silk ribbon and still holding the scent of a lady’s perfume. Inside was a lock of fine, red-gold hair. He usually only pulled it out at night. He inhaled the familiar perfume a moment before tucking it back inside where it would be safe.
Much of guard duty is simple, boring watchfulness, and this run proved no different. Occasionally there was a bout of mundane excitement, such as when a wagon got stuck in the muddy road and had to be pushed out. Thankfully on this run, there was no trouble. But that left listening to the Consortium’s steward in Waterdeep as he went over the business notes for the month and asked Angis for an evaluation of their plans for the next.
Angis had little real desire and knowledge of such things. He was merely doing his duty as the younger son. He gave a few vague comments and trusted the steward’s judgement in such matters. He wanted to be back in Daggerford, and so the next morning he set out and after a long journey, he strode into his rooms in the Silver Flood Inn. He took a wash before ending up at his favorite drinking spot, the Happy Cow Tavern.
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River Song
Explorer
Lionel Hardcheese
"Lionel!" reverberated through the kitchen for the hundredth time that day, it was only morning, and Lionel sighed as he put down the parsnips he was preparing for the lunchtime soup. What now? he thought to himself. The spices were ground and mixed, the pot ready for the slow simmering process and he had just reorganised his spice rack.
But as his mother bustled in she handed him coins, food and broach. "Why don't you take a few days off? You've had a busy week! Go out and enjoy yourself. Find a nice young woman!"
Lionels round face coloured, "MUM!"
"Thanks mum," he gives her round cheek an affectionate kiss. "I'll finish up preparing the parsnips for lunch. Now, not too much salt this time. Okay?"
With a mock glare at his sister he steps out of the tavern to enjoy some time off and almost walked into Tommi.
Subconsciously checking his belongings he smiles, "Hey Tommi, out already?"
"Lionel!" reverberated through the kitchen for the hundredth time that day, it was only morning, and Lionel sighed as he put down the parsnips he was preparing for the lunchtime soup. What now? he thought to himself. The spices were ground and mixed, the pot ready for the slow simmering process and he had just reorganised his spice rack.
But as his mother bustled in she handed him coins, food and broach. "Why don't you take a few days off? You've had a busy week! Go out and enjoy yourself. Find a nice young woman!"
Lionels round face coloured, "MUM!"
"Thanks mum," he gives her round cheek an affectionate kiss. "I'll finish up preparing the parsnips for lunch. Now, not too much salt this time. Okay?"
With a mock glare at his sister he steps out of the tavern to enjoy some time off and almost walked into Tommi.
Subconsciously checking his belongings he smiles, "Hey Tommi, out already?"
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FitzTheRuke
Legend
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