Damsel-of-Distress

[Mark Chance]

Four adventurers staying for a time in Rainhaven, a modestly large port town at the mouth of the Halcyon River emptying into the Gulf of Tears, have recently received summons from Jon Korbok, Guildmaster of Adventurers. Guildmaster Korbok is a grizzled dwarven veteran of numerous campaigns in the Goblin Wars of the last century who reputation for impeccable professionalism is almost without peer.

Lion's Mane Hall, the Adventurer's Guild headquarters, is a stately structure a stone's throw from the hustling, bustling dockyards. Being members in good-standing, the four adventurers are admitted without fuss to the luxuriously appointed waiting room.

"Guildmaster Korbok will be here shortly," says the clerk, a painfully thin woman seemingly constructed entirely out of angles and sharp edges. "Please make yourselves comfortable. Avail yourselves of the bar if you'd like."

Without further ado, she turns on her heel and strides from the room, sliding the tall doors shut behind her, leaving the four strangers to get acquainted while they wait.

 

[RaZZer99]

Tam stood bewildered in the seemingly hospitable waiting room. More precisely, he stood at the exact center of the room to which his instincts naturally gravitated towards for safety concerns. Everything was happening much to fast for his tastes. One moment he had expressed a slight interest in a job (well the initial pay was interesting…) and next thing he knew he was being whisked through the streets of Rainhaven into some stone fortress. With fearful curiosity, he eyes the other occupants (mercenaries and ruffians by the looks of it…oh curse my luck) in silence.

Standing at just over five feet, Tam is an oddly short statured man compared to the towering oaken staff clutched tightly in hand. Wavy locks of short black hair frame an attractive but naturally suspicious countenance. A short cropped brown robe complimented by a well worn pair of leather breeches and boots complete his rather simple and straightforward attire that hides his meager frame.

 

[Kafkonia]

"You look concerned, my son," one of these 'ruffians' says, approaching Tam. Around his neck glints a silver chain, although whatever hangs upon it is concealed beneath his armour. "You should relax. We're all here for the same reason, are we not? And if we are to be companions in our travels, we should at least make an effort to feel comfortable."

He extends his hand. "My name is..." He hesitates for a moment. "My name is Pete."

Standing about six feet tall, he cuts an impressive figure, although when he moves it is hardly graceful. His beard is closely trimmed, and the same sandy brown as the hair atop his head.

 

[Tinner]

A thin reedy youth walks slowly to the bar. His brown hair is shaggy and touseled, his hazel eyes sport a mischevious grin as he surveys the assortment of liquor available.
There's something odd about his steps as he walks the length of the bar. It takes a moment to determine exactly what it is, but finally it's clear - he makes almost no sound as he moves.
Finally he selects a bottle of single malt whiskey, pops the cork and takes a quick pull before settling into a comfortable chair to wait for the dwarf.

"Anyone heard what this is all about?" he asks quietly in a half-whispered voice. "Oh, excuse me. I'm Geoff. Geoff Szaby. But I guess you can call me Quiet Shoes. Everyone else does. Actually, I guess you could just call me Shoes." Geoff suddenly realizes he's rambling and his face flushes with embarassment.

 

[Fenris]

"Hot damn, free drinks!" says one of the ruffians as the tall, dark haired man makes his way to the bar, pours himself a tall drink and reclines in a chair.

"Relax boys, soon enough the sweat rolls, the blood flows and the fun begins." he says with an infectious smile.

"Hiya Pete. Name's Beren" as he tips back his drink. "Name's still Beren to you my silent friend" he adds to the oddly short statured man standing in the exact middle of the room.

 

[Mark Chance]

"Hiya Pete. Name's Beren" as he tips back his drink. "Name's still Beren to you my silent friend" he adds to the oddly short statured man standing in the exact middle of the room.

"That would be Tam," says Guildmaster Korbok as he limps into the room. "Pour me some of that Anduvian whiskey while you're there, Beren."

Korbok is a striking figure, but mostly due to his ugliness. His scrunched face is a mask of deep wrinkles and scars out of which twinkling disconcertingly beautiful blue eyes. His thinning, white hair is pulled back into a pony tail, and his long beard is carefully braided. When he walks, he favors his right leg. His arms seem overlong, and are powerfully muscled, as can be plainly seen since he wears a sleeveless robe over his green silk shirt and pantaloons. His hands are large and full of implicit cruelty that remind everyone of long-standing, unconfirmed rumors of Korbok's training as a ritualistic strangler in a savage jungle kingdom. The dwarf grins and settles his bulk into a high-backed chair.

"Have a seat, please," he says. "We've business to discuss. One Lady Desdemona, who is visiting our fair town, needs some bodyguarding over the next week or so, and I thought you four would be well-suited for the job. The guild is paying twenty-five gold per day for at least the next six days for each of you. That sound good enough to whet your appetites before we discuss the particulars?"

 

[RaZZer99]

Despite Pete’s well mannered advice, Tam noticeably tenses at the offered handshake. But so as not to provoke any misunderstandings from this tall imposing man, the skittish mage gingerly takes the offered hand and weakly manages a reply, “Umm well met, Pete.” Blinking dumbly in response to Shoes and Beren, Tam did not quite know what to make of these two. Perhaps a ruthless cutthroat assassin and a vicious blood thirsty barbarian, respectively? He had noticed that they both had gone straight for the liquor upon entering the room, a possible bad sign.

Preferring to remain standing (at the exact center of the room), Tam responds to the battle scarred dwarf, “Sounds like a fair wage.” Well that was a lie. He knew that his services as an abjurer could easily fetch a higher market price, but alas Tam was reluctant to argue (especially with a dwarf sporting biceps that could snap another man’s limbs). And besides, he needed the money.

 

[Fenris]

"Aye" responds Beron to Korbok's request. He downs the rest of his drink in a gulp and goes to the bar and pours a double, neat and straight, of whiskey for the dwarf.

As he brings the drink over. He says: "Well 25 a day seems awfully steep wages for merely standing around and looking menacing. There's a catch that you ain't tellin'" says Beron returning to his seat.

 

[Mark Chance]

He says: "Well 25 a day seems awfully steep wages for merely standing around and looking menacing. There's a catch that you ain't tellin'" says Beron returning to his seat.

Korbok takes the whiskey from Beron and winks.

"There's always a catch, isn't there? But not much of one this time. There's already been one attempt on the lady. Either murder or kidnaping. Not sure which. Her manservant, a fellow named Alain, wants her well-protected. He's also paid me to arrange a safehouse for her to be kept in until he can finish whatever business it is that's brought them here."

The dwarf drains the whiskey with a single swallow.

"So, it could be a nice, cushioney job watching a pretty lady for a few days. Or, if there are miscreants after her, it could turn into a right serious batch of business."

 

[Kafkonia]

Pete smiles as Tam shakes his hand. This fellow needs some backbone, he thinks to himself. But he seems a good enough sort.

At the mention of an attack on Lady Desdemona, Pete stiffens.

"I could not abandon a lady in need," he says. "Is there any idea as to who may be behind the attack? Were they well-organized, or did it seem the act of a random madman?"