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<blockquote data-quote="Isida Kep'Tukari" data-source="post: 1926338" data-attributes="member: 4441"><p>Gentlemen, I would like thoughts in <em>italics</em>, speech in "quotes," and actions between *asterisks.* Speech and thought may also be in colors, but be sure I can read them without undue distress. Spoiler text may be used to convey information to one or more characters, so please don't read them if your name isn't on them.</p><p></p><p><u><strong>Our Brave Adventurers</strong></u></p><p></p><p><strong>Manzanita</strong> - <span style="color: Blue"><strong>Sargon the Barbarian</strong></span> [CG Male Human Barbarian 1]</p><p></p><p><strong>dead_radish</strong> - <span style="color: Blue"><strong>Tyralis Deephome</strong></span> [NG Male Elf Ranger 1]</p><p></p><p><strong>Mordane76</strong> - <span style="color: Blue"><strong>Prendalin of Crosston</strong></span> [LN Male Human Necromancer 1]</p><p></p><p><strong>Erekose13</strong> - <span style="color: Blue"><strong>Fasithe "Fluke" Lightfingers</strong></span> [CG Male Halfling Rogue 1]</p><p></p><p><strong>ender_wiggin</strong> - <span style="color: Blue"><strong>Torug "Little Bull" Skyhammer</strong></span> [CN Male Halfling Cleric of Talos 1]</p><p></p><p><strong>carhesl</strong> - <span style="color: Blue"><strong>Korrim of Deepwater</strong></span> [N Male Human Fighter 1]</p><p></p><p>And now our story begins...</p><p></p><p>*Korrim once again found himself in his home town of Deepwater after escorting a string of horses from Willow Grove to the Trader's Guild there. He finds the town in a quiet and fearful state, the Guildmaster paying in goods instead of his usual gold, and a very megre selection of anything on the shelves. Old Kit Walker, the priest at the temple of Fharlaghn that found him on their doorstep so many years ago, is willing to tell the sad tale.*</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: silver">All of our outgoing caravans have been attacked, horses taken, wagons gone, goods vanished. Guards have been attacked in huge numbers with poisoned arrows, and when they try to pursue their attackers, they find themselves plunging into foot traps or stumbling into snares. It would take so many guards to give proper protection that there would be no profit. We tried hiring adventurers, but they tricked us. Brought a few arrows, described a hiding spot, and collected their reward. We sent out the next caravan, and it was raided as well. The town council won't pay for any more attempts, so I'm not sure what we'll do...</span>" Kit says with resignation.</p><p></p><p>*Fluke, of course, knew all of that. He knew it because this was the reason Keylaran had built an alchemist's laboratory out in the middle of nowhere; because the various plants and other things around Deepwater made superior alchemy supplies. Keylaran had been waiting and watching for the caravans to be safe again, and when the caravan carrying hundreds of gold pieces worth of her alchemical supplies was attacked, she raged for a day and destroyed half the lab. Then she spent most of the night fixing everything. Keylaran was about ready to front the reward money herself if she could just get a group of people willing to truly investigate.*</p><p></p><p>*Torug, Prendalin, and Sargon had been working with Korrim to guard the horse string, and found themselves in Deepwater with little prospect for a job. Korrim at least had pointed them to the Empty Barrel tavern, run by Thrak, a massive half-orc who brewed his own beer. It was far cheaper for slim purses than the extravagent Two Swords Inn. Sargon had kept catching glimpses of his mysterious follower all the way to Deepwater, but hadn't seen him for half a day now.*</p><p></p><p>*Inside the Empty Barrel, it's dimly lit and smells of grease and ale. It contains a bar across the back of the room, and several heavy tables and benches. Thrak himself is at the bar, polishing it with a rag. The place has a low ceiling with exposed beams, and Thrak's head nearly touches them. He walks with his head leaned forward, and some scars on his forehead attest that he's had a run-in with the beams more than once. He wears plain clothes and a greasy, stained apron. He looks up at the trio as they enter, squinting at them in the glare of the fading daylight from the open door. A half-dozen others, mostly working men, are chewing their way through bacon, bread, and stew, and washing it down with copious amounts of ale.*</p><p></p><p>*Tyralis had kept himself out of sight as they reached the town, and found it far easier to hide himself in a town, even a town as quiet as this one. While the larger man had separated himself off from the others, his quarry and the other two had entered a small inn...*</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Isida Kep'Tukari, post: 1926338, member: 4441"] Gentlemen, I would like thoughts in [i]italics[/i], speech in "quotes," and actions between *asterisks.* Speech and thought may also be in colors, but be sure I can read them without undue distress. Spoiler text may be used to convey information to one or more characters, so please don't read them if your name isn't on them. [U][b]Our Brave Adventurers[/b][/U] [B]Manzanita[/B] - [COLOR=Blue][B]Sargon the Barbarian[/B][/COLOR] [CG Male Human Barbarian 1] [B]dead_radish[/B] - [COLOR=Blue][B]Tyralis Deephome[/B][/COLOR] [NG Male Elf Ranger 1] [B]Mordane76[/B] - [COLOR=Blue][B]Prendalin of Crosston[/B][/COLOR] [LN Male Human Necromancer 1] [B]Erekose13[/B] - [COLOR=Blue][B]Fasithe "Fluke" Lightfingers[/B][/COLOR] [CG Male Halfling Rogue 1] [B]ender_wiggin[/B] - [COLOR=Blue][B]Torug "Little Bull" Skyhammer[/B][/COLOR] [CN Male Halfling Cleric of Talos 1] [B]carhesl[/B] - [COLOR=Blue][B]Korrim of Deepwater[/B][/COLOR] [N Male Human Fighter 1] And now our story begins... *Korrim once again found himself in his home town of Deepwater after escorting a string of horses from Willow Grove to the Trader's Guild there. He finds the town in a quiet and fearful state, the Guildmaster paying in goods instead of his usual gold, and a very megre selection of anything on the shelves. Old Kit Walker, the priest at the temple of Fharlaghn that found him on their doorstep so many years ago, is willing to tell the sad tale.* "[color=silver]All of our outgoing caravans have been attacked, horses taken, wagons gone, goods vanished. Guards have been attacked in huge numbers with poisoned arrows, and when they try to pursue their attackers, they find themselves plunging into foot traps or stumbling into snares. It would take so many guards to give proper protection that there would be no profit. We tried hiring adventurers, but they tricked us. Brought a few arrows, described a hiding spot, and collected their reward. We sent out the next caravan, and it was raided as well. The town council won't pay for any more attempts, so I'm not sure what we'll do...[/color]" Kit says with resignation. *Fluke, of course, knew all of that. He knew it because this was the reason Keylaran had built an alchemist's laboratory out in the middle of nowhere; because the various plants and other things around Deepwater made superior alchemy supplies. Keylaran had been waiting and watching for the caravans to be safe again, and when the caravan carrying hundreds of gold pieces worth of her alchemical supplies was attacked, she raged for a day and destroyed half the lab. Then she spent most of the night fixing everything. Keylaran was about ready to front the reward money herself if she could just get a group of people willing to truly investigate.* *Torug, Prendalin, and Sargon had been working with Korrim to guard the horse string, and found themselves in Deepwater with little prospect for a job. Korrim at least had pointed them to the Empty Barrel tavern, run by Thrak, a massive half-orc who brewed his own beer. It was far cheaper for slim purses than the extravagent Two Swords Inn. Sargon had kept catching glimpses of his mysterious follower all the way to Deepwater, but hadn't seen him for half a day now.* *Inside the Empty Barrel, it's dimly lit and smells of grease and ale. It contains a bar across the back of the room, and several heavy tables and benches. Thrak himself is at the bar, polishing it with a rag. The place has a low ceiling with exposed beams, and Thrak's head nearly touches them. He walks with his head leaned forward, and some scars on his forehead attest that he's had a run-in with the beams more than once. He wears plain clothes and a greasy, stained apron. He looks up at the trio as they enter, squinting at them in the glare of the fading daylight from the open door. A half-dozen others, mostly working men, are chewing their way through bacon, bread, and stew, and washing it down with copious amounts of ale.* *Tyralis had kept himself out of sight as they reached the town, and found it far easier to hide himself in a town, even a town as quiet as this one. While the larger man had separated himself off from the others, his quarry and the other two had entered a small inn...* [/QUOTE]
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