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<blockquote data-quote="byxbee" data-source="post: 8601" data-attributes="member: 985"><p><strong>The setting:</strong> Forgotten Realms, Western Damara, Present Day</p><p></p><p><strong>The principal characters:</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>Durnae Windbright</strong> – Human Rogue/Sorcerer from Baytown (Impiltur). A charismatic fast-talker, Durnae got into more trouble than he could get out of in Baytown, and has chosen to re-locate somewhere non-descript. The lure of solitude led him to Damara. He is a competent merchant, rogue, and spy. Durnae used to work for an “employer”, whose identity was kept secret from him, but the aforementioned trouble forced him to abandon all of his contacts, relationships, and working arrangements. He left Baytown in a hurry, and doesn’t know when he’ll be able to return.</p><p> He discovered his magical abilities on the way north to Heliogabalus, during a fight with an angry bear. . </p><p></p><p><strong>Oovie Bunter </strong> – Halfling “opportunist” (Bard) from Rawlinswood. If the world were to believe him, Oovie is the greatest Halfling fighter, writer, tale-spinner, gambler, lover, singer, dancer, cook, brewer, rock-skipper, and sneak to have ever lived. To him, anything that has ever been done could have been done better, faster, cheaper, or with more creativity had a Halfling of his stature been involved. Oovie loves to talk more than anything, and he is almost never silent. He even recites epic poems and stories in his sleep. Oovie is in Damara because that is where the action is, and where his legend needs to be spread (preferably, by his own design).</p><p></p><p></p><p><strong>Chapter One</strong></p><p><strong>“Take my halfling… please!”</strong></p><p></p><p> The merchant’s charter had mentioned, specifically, the words SUNDOWN and THE ROASTING TROLL INN. It was now well past sundown. Durnae waited patiently for the merchant’s foreman to arrive, anxious to begin his journey west to Bloodstone Pass and some long overdue anonymity. The events of the past month were tough to forget, and yet he was certain that he had been followed. He had hoped to shake his pursuers as he headed deeper and deeper into the Damaran tundra. But just this morning, he was sure that he saw an all-too-familiar face in what barely passed for a marketplace in the city of Valls. Yes, Speck was a hard man to shake.</p><p></p><p> By now, Durnae had grown used to the Damaran version of punctuality. He had learned over the past month that Damaran’s thought little of timeliness as a trait. He knew, though, that Damaran’s were notoriously honest people, and that he could expect his new employer’s man sometime during the evening. </p><p></p><p> Carefully eyeing the somber crowd at the ‘Troll, Durnae found as hidden a table as he could and sat down. He had resigned himself to eating what the locals called “Dareth’s Stew”, a greasy mixture of rock-hard potatoes and strips of rothe jerky, served in a lumpy gravy over a slab of thick bread. He had eaten this particular “delicacy” at least 8 times in the past two weeks, as it was the only thing on the menu (when there was one). The meal tended to taste like his boots, boiled in ogre sweat, seasoned with dirt. The after effects left him up most of the night, swearing he wouldn’t eat Damaran food again. Damaran’s, it seemed, were as bad with their cooking as they were with keeping time.</p><p></p><p> </p><p>[Disinterested voice] – <span style="font-family: 'arial'">How can you eat that swill? It’s made of the worst part of the beast, let me tell you. You must be from out of town, cuz I’ve never seen a local eat that willingly. If I were you, I would have ordered the Yellow Rose Lamb Shanks. Never gone wrong there. See they take the lamb and raise it in their secret mountain monast…. </span> </p><p> </p><p>[Durnae] – (disturbed, as there is no one near him) Who? (he looks around…)</p><p></p><p> [Voice] – <span style="font-family: 'arial'">Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Gotta take precautions now and then, see, cuz if I were to talk to you out in the open, I’d have two dozen men to ward off. Work isn’t all that plentiful around here, unless you want to crawl around in the mines looking for leftover bits of bloodstone. I’ve never understood the attraction, honestly. I mean the stones are pretty, but it ain’t worth what it used to be… why in my travels to Waterdee….</span> </p><p></p><p> [D] – (growing suspicious, trying not to be obvious, he scans the room) Show yourself. </p><p></p><p> [Voice] – <span style="font-family: 'arial'">Oh all right. Look up to the second floor, the top of the stairs. I’m the unbelievably fantastic looking fellow sitting there smoking his pipe. Name’s <em>Oovie</em>. But try not to be too obvious with your gawking, I know I’m spectacular to look at, but you don’t have to drool in your stew, ok?</span> </p><p></p><p> Durnae, looking up casually, saw a rather plain looking Halfling sitting near the top of the steps, smoking a pipe. The little man wore plain clothing, unadorned with any scarf or coat to protect him from the chill. The Halfling was looking down, packing his pipe with a new batch of weed. Durnae found himself staring at this little person, though he was by all means unremarkable. </p><p></p><p> [D] – (Whispering, for no apparent reason and unsure of how he was being heard by Oovie across an empty but still noisy tavern) What is the meaning of this anyway? Are you the foreman I’m supposed to meet?</p><p></p><p> [O] – <span style="font-family: 'arial'">Not quite, though I do work for him. He sent me to meet you, give you the details, and then make sure you don’t get too drunk or preoccupied with the women, as you Talls are always doing. You have the charter with you, I see. That thing is a golden key where we are going, my friend. Don’t misplace it and don’t get it stolen. Don’t go waving it around like you have been, or someone will doubtlessly bop you on the head for it. Seen it happen countless times. Anyway, finish your swill and then come to room 4 and we’ll smoke some of this Vaasan Deathroot I got from a friendly gnomish trader just the other day. Said it could take the stink off a troll, and I do believe he’s right. Fantastic stuff, this Deathroot, I must put a note in my journ…</span></p><p></p><p> [D] – We? You mean we’ll be going together? The foreman said this was work for just one man. And where is he, the foreman? He’s supposed to have instructions for me and…</p><p></p><p> [O] – <span style="font-family: 'arial'">You humans and your questions! Yeesh, it’s enough to drive a Halfling to drink. Which is a great suggestion, by the way. Why don't you bring some mead with you to room number four in a bit. Your treat? Oh, what a wonderful guy...</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="byxbee, post: 8601, member: 985"] [b]The setting:[/b] Forgotten Realms, Western Damara, Present Day [b]The principal characters:[/b] [b]Durnae Windbright[/b] – Human Rogue/Sorcerer from Baytown (Impiltur). A charismatic fast-talker, Durnae got into more trouble than he could get out of in Baytown, and has chosen to re-locate somewhere non-descript. The lure of solitude led him to Damara. He is a competent merchant, rogue, and spy. Durnae used to work for an “employer”, whose identity was kept secret from him, but the aforementioned trouble forced him to abandon all of his contacts, relationships, and working arrangements. He left Baytown in a hurry, and doesn’t know when he’ll be able to return. He discovered his magical abilities on the way north to Heliogabalus, during a fight with an angry bear. . [b]Oovie Bunter [/b] – Halfling “opportunist” (Bard) from Rawlinswood. If the world were to believe him, Oovie is the greatest Halfling fighter, writer, tale-spinner, gambler, lover, singer, dancer, cook, brewer, rock-skipper, and sneak to have ever lived. To him, anything that has ever been done could have been done better, faster, cheaper, or with more creativity had a Halfling of his stature been involved. Oovie loves to talk more than anything, and he is almost never silent. He even recites epic poems and stories in his sleep. Oovie is in Damara because that is where the action is, and where his legend needs to be spread (preferably, by his own design). [B]Chapter One[/b] [b]“Take my halfling… please!”[/b] The merchant’s charter had mentioned, specifically, the words SUNDOWN and THE ROASTING TROLL INN. It was now well past sundown. Durnae waited patiently for the merchant’s foreman to arrive, anxious to begin his journey west to Bloodstone Pass and some long overdue anonymity. The events of the past month were tough to forget, and yet he was certain that he had been followed. He had hoped to shake his pursuers as he headed deeper and deeper into the Damaran tundra. But just this morning, he was sure that he saw an all-too-familiar face in what barely passed for a marketplace in the city of Valls. Yes, Speck was a hard man to shake. By now, Durnae had grown used to the Damaran version of punctuality. He had learned over the past month that Damaran’s thought little of timeliness as a trait. He knew, though, that Damaran’s were notoriously honest people, and that he could expect his new employer’s man sometime during the evening. Carefully eyeing the somber crowd at the ‘Troll, Durnae found as hidden a table as he could and sat down. He had resigned himself to eating what the locals called “Dareth’s Stew”, a greasy mixture of rock-hard potatoes and strips of rothe jerky, served in a lumpy gravy over a slab of thick bread. He had eaten this particular “delicacy” at least 8 times in the past two weeks, as it was the only thing on the menu (when there was one). The meal tended to taste like his boots, boiled in ogre sweat, seasoned with dirt. The after effects left him up most of the night, swearing he wouldn’t eat Damaran food again. Damaran’s, it seemed, were as bad with their cooking as they were with keeping time. [Disinterested voice] – [FONT=arial]How can you eat that swill? It’s made of the worst part of the beast, let me tell you. You must be from out of town, cuz I’ve never seen a local eat that willingly. If I were you, I would have ordered the Yellow Rose Lamb Shanks. Never gone wrong there. See they take the lamb and raise it in their secret mountain monast…. [/FONT] [Durnae] – (disturbed, as there is no one near him) Who? (he looks around…) [Voice] – [FONT=arial]Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Gotta take precautions now and then, see, cuz if I were to talk to you out in the open, I’d have two dozen men to ward off. Work isn’t all that plentiful around here, unless you want to crawl around in the mines looking for leftover bits of bloodstone. I’ve never understood the attraction, honestly. I mean the stones are pretty, but it ain’t worth what it used to be… why in my travels to Waterdee….[/FONT] [D] – (growing suspicious, trying not to be obvious, he scans the room) Show yourself. [Voice] – [FONT=arial]Oh all right. Look up to the second floor, the top of the stairs. I’m the unbelievably fantastic looking fellow sitting there smoking his pipe. Name’s [i]Oovie[/i]. But try not to be too obvious with your gawking, I know I’m spectacular to look at, but you don’t have to drool in your stew, ok?[/FONT] Durnae, looking up casually, saw a rather plain looking Halfling sitting near the top of the steps, smoking a pipe. The little man wore plain clothing, unadorned with any scarf or coat to protect him from the chill. The Halfling was looking down, packing his pipe with a new batch of weed. Durnae found himself staring at this little person, though he was by all means unremarkable. [D] – (Whispering, for no apparent reason and unsure of how he was being heard by Oovie across an empty but still noisy tavern) What is the meaning of this anyway? Are you the foreman I’m supposed to meet? [O] – [FONT=arial]Not quite, though I do work for him. He sent me to meet you, give you the details, and then make sure you don’t get too drunk or preoccupied with the women, as you Talls are always doing. You have the charter with you, I see. That thing is a golden key where we are going, my friend. Don’t misplace it and don’t get it stolen. Don’t go waving it around like you have been, or someone will doubtlessly bop you on the head for it. Seen it happen countless times. Anyway, finish your swill and then come to room 4 and we’ll smoke some of this Vaasan Deathroot I got from a friendly gnomish trader just the other day. Said it could take the stink off a troll, and I do believe he’s right. Fantastic stuff, this Deathroot, I must put a note in my journ…[/FONT] [D] – We? You mean we’ll be going together? The foreman said this was work for just one man. And where is he, the foreman? He’s supposed to have instructions for me and… [O] – [FONT=arial]You humans and your questions! Yeesh, it’s enough to drive a Halfling to drink. Which is a great suggestion, by the way. Why don't you bring some mead with you to room number four in a bit. Your treat? Oh, what a wonderful guy...[/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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