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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 7046731" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>I thought about posting the stat blocks at this point, but I think I'll finish getting things set up first.</p><p></p><p>You've probably already noticed that I'm playing around with some of the standard RPG tropes here. Hopefully it will be obvious when I'm using 5e mechanics without taking the reader out of the narrative.</p><p></p><p>* * * *</p><p></p><p>Chapter 4</p><p></p><p>They ended up staying out later than Bredan had expected.</p><p></p><p>The streets of Crosspath were fairly dark as he and Glori made their way back toward the outskirts of town. The street lanterns that lit the way in the town center became less frequent as they proceeded onward, and the night pressed in around them in the gaps, enfolding them in deep shadows.</p><p></p><p>Bredan was feeling a little unsteady. They’d each had a few mugs of ale with their dinner at the Boar’s Tusk, where Glori received free meals and discounts on drinks due to her regular arrangement there. A few of the locals asked her for a song or a story, but she waved them off with a few smiles and promises of later performances. Afterwards they’d stopped off at The Ragged Tinker, another of the taverns where Glori was well-known, and someone had thrust a full mug into his hand. Bredan couldn’t justify turning down a free drink, so…</p><p></p><p>He focused on putting his feet down carefully on the uneven surface of the road. Glori, walking beside him, seemed to be having no difficulty with either the drink or the darkness. Of course she had the sharp eyes of her elven heritage, Bredan reminded himself. He had to admit that he was glad she’d come along. He’d tried to insist that she remain in town, so she wouldn’t have to walk back alone in the dark, but she in turn had reminded him that she knew how to take care of herself.</p><p></p><p>As they walked he found out about her ulterior motive, as she continued the conversation that had dominated dinner. She didn’t quite bring up the wizard’s offer again—she’d promised to give him time to think about it—but she regaled him with familiar tales of the treasure hunters who had brought fortunes out of the Dry Hills, uncovered caches of artifacts from the long-lost Mai’i Empire or long forgotten fragments of magical lore. Bredan let her go on, didn’t offer comment, but he knew that those stories were set in a different time a decade or longer in the past. Adventurers and fortune-seekers still occasionally came to Crosspath, but it was as a waystop on the way to someplace more interesting.</p><p></p><p>The breeze shifted and Bredan smelled something, an acrid reek of something burning. He looked over but realized that Glori was no longer there, and that she’d stopped taking. He turned around, confused, but saw her just a few steps back, staring past him with a startled look on her face.</p><p></p><p>When she saw that he was looking at her she said, “Bredan…”</p><p></p><p>But he’d already turned back and stared at the road ahead. The night was almost complete in that direction, but he could see a faint glow over the uneven outlines of the buildings that lined the right side of the road. That glow was just enough to reveal plumes of smoke that rose up into the night sky.</p><p></p><p>“Bredan!” Glori called, but he was already running, heedless of the hazards of the muddy road in the dark.</p><p></p><p>By the time he got within a hundred yards of the smithy he could see the flames pouring up from the top of structure. When he finally came around the bulk of the adjacent stables he could see that the entire building was on fire, both the shop in the front and the living quarters attached to the back. He was dimly aware of men rushing around near the stables, no doubt trying to keep the fire from spreading to their property, and the panicked screams of horses. But his main attention was on his home for the last ten years being consumed as the fire tore through it.</p><p></p><p>He didn’t realize that he had started forward toward the flames before Glori grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him back. “Bredan!” For a moment he almost tore free, but then the fear on her face helped pull him back into himself.</p><p></p><p>“My uncle…” he said.</p><p></p><p>“Bredan!” a voice shouted from across the street. He turned and saw that the hail had come from the covered porch of Kesren Tull’s shop. The leatherworker was there with a couple of other people, but Bredan’s attention instantly focused on the blackened form sitting propped up against the front of the workshop. The onlookers made way as Bredan ran over to them.</p><p></p><p>As he knelt beside his uncle he saw with relief that it wasn’t as bad as it had first looked. The elder Karras was covered in soot, and his breathing was ragged, but he was alive and conscious.</p><p></p><p>“What happened?” Bredan asked.</p><p></p><p>His uncle looked up at him and tried to say something, but a spell of coughing overcame him and Kesren had to hold him up. It looked ridiculous, the diminutive gnome supporting the comparatively huge bulk of the smith, but at the moment Karras looked more than his age. “I don’t know,” Kesren said. “I was in the back of my shop… I smelled the fire before I saw it. By the time I got to the street the whole place was engulfed in flames. Your uncle, he just barely got out ahead of it.”</p><p></p><p>Karras tried to speak again, only to fail as his coughing fit redoubled. “Get him some water!” Kesren yelled, but Bredan turned and looked for his companion. “Glori…”</p><p></p><p>The half-elven woman was already kneeling beside him, shifting her lyre around so that it dangled in front of her. She drew out the small silver plectrum that she used to pluck the strings, and took a single steadying breath before she began to play.</p><p></p><p>Bredan had heard Glori play her lyre many times, but he had only seen her work its magic on a few rare occasions. He could feel the change with just the first few notes. The folks gathered around them grew quiet, and even the sounds of chaos coming from across the street seemed to fade away as the music swirled out of the strings. The lyre seemed to glow as Glori’s fingers rippled across the instrument, and for a moment Bredan thought he could almost see the notes drifting between her and his uncle. Karras immediately stopped coughing, and his body arched as he sucked in a deep breath.</p><p></p><p>A moment later Glori stopped playing. Even though he hadn’t been a direct part of her working, Bredan felt as though a load had been lifted from his shoulders.</p><p></p><p>“Uncle?” he asked.</p><p></p><p>Karras took in another breath. “I’m fine. Thank you.”</p><p></p><p>“What happened?”</p><p></p><p>“I… I don’t know. I was working… there was a flash, and then fire… everywhere. I barely had time to get out. Everything lost… it’s all gone…”</p><p></p><p>He tried to get up, but Bredan, Glori, and Kesren all pushed him down together. “I’m fine, I tell you,” the smith protested, but Glori put on her stern face. “You need to rest, Master Karras.”</p><p></p><p>“You can stay with us tonight,” Kesren said. “You and Bredan both.”</p><p></p><p>“They’re bringing a cart,” another of the bystanders said.</p><p></p><p>“Nonsense. I can walk,” Karras said. He stood up, slowly, the others lingering around him in case Glori’s healing magic hadn’t fully negated the effects of his brush with death. He crossed to the railing that ran across the front of the porch, and stood there staring at the shell of his home and business.</p><p></p><p>“I’m sorry,” Bredan said. “I should have been here…”</p><p></p><p>“No, don’t take this on, it’s not your weight to carry,” Karras said sternly. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.”</p><p></p><p>More people were arriving from the town, some carrying buckets or shovels or other tools to fight the fire. It didn’t look like the fire would spread; one benefit of being on the outskirts of the town was that the buildings tended to be further apart than in the more concentrated core. There would still have to be patrols, alert to the possibility of embers traveling on the evening breeze landing on a dry shingle or a mound of hay bales in a back yard. But there was nothing that could be done for the dying building. All the two smiths could do was watch as the flames swirled up into the night and everything they owned was consumed in a blazing pyre.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 7046731, member: 143"] I thought about posting the stat blocks at this point, but I think I'll finish getting things set up first. You've probably already noticed that I'm playing around with some of the standard RPG tropes here. Hopefully it will be obvious when I'm using 5e mechanics without taking the reader out of the narrative. * * * * Chapter 4 They ended up staying out later than Bredan had expected. The streets of Crosspath were fairly dark as he and Glori made their way back toward the outskirts of town. The street lanterns that lit the way in the town center became less frequent as they proceeded onward, and the night pressed in around them in the gaps, enfolding them in deep shadows. Bredan was feeling a little unsteady. They’d each had a few mugs of ale with their dinner at the Boar’s Tusk, where Glori received free meals and discounts on drinks due to her regular arrangement there. A few of the locals asked her for a song or a story, but she waved them off with a few smiles and promises of later performances. Afterwards they’d stopped off at The Ragged Tinker, another of the taverns where Glori was well-known, and someone had thrust a full mug into his hand. Bredan couldn’t justify turning down a free drink, so… He focused on putting his feet down carefully on the uneven surface of the road. Glori, walking beside him, seemed to be having no difficulty with either the drink or the darkness. Of course she had the sharp eyes of her elven heritage, Bredan reminded himself. He had to admit that he was glad she’d come along. He’d tried to insist that she remain in town, so she wouldn’t have to walk back alone in the dark, but she in turn had reminded him that she knew how to take care of herself. As they walked he found out about her ulterior motive, as she continued the conversation that had dominated dinner. She didn’t quite bring up the wizard’s offer again—she’d promised to give him time to think about it—but she regaled him with familiar tales of the treasure hunters who had brought fortunes out of the Dry Hills, uncovered caches of artifacts from the long-lost Mai’i Empire or long forgotten fragments of magical lore. Bredan let her go on, didn’t offer comment, but he knew that those stories were set in a different time a decade or longer in the past. Adventurers and fortune-seekers still occasionally came to Crosspath, but it was as a waystop on the way to someplace more interesting. The breeze shifted and Bredan smelled something, an acrid reek of something burning. He looked over but realized that Glori was no longer there, and that she’d stopped taking. He turned around, confused, but saw her just a few steps back, staring past him with a startled look on her face. When she saw that he was looking at her she said, “Bredan…” But he’d already turned back and stared at the road ahead. The night was almost complete in that direction, but he could see a faint glow over the uneven outlines of the buildings that lined the right side of the road. That glow was just enough to reveal plumes of smoke that rose up into the night sky. “Bredan!” Glori called, but he was already running, heedless of the hazards of the muddy road in the dark. By the time he got within a hundred yards of the smithy he could see the flames pouring up from the top of structure. When he finally came around the bulk of the adjacent stables he could see that the entire building was on fire, both the shop in the front and the living quarters attached to the back. He was dimly aware of men rushing around near the stables, no doubt trying to keep the fire from spreading to their property, and the panicked screams of horses. But his main attention was on his home for the last ten years being consumed as the fire tore through it. He didn’t realize that he had started forward toward the flames before Glori grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him back. “Bredan!” For a moment he almost tore free, but then the fear on her face helped pull him back into himself. “My uncle…” he said. “Bredan!” a voice shouted from across the street. He turned and saw that the hail had come from the covered porch of Kesren Tull’s shop. The leatherworker was there with a couple of other people, but Bredan’s attention instantly focused on the blackened form sitting propped up against the front of the workshop. The onlookers made way as Bredan ran over to them. As he knelt beside his uncle he saw with relief that it wasn’t as bad as it had first looked. The elder Karras was covered in soot, and his breathing was ragged, but he was alive and conscious. “What happened?” Bredan asked. His uncle looked up at him and tried to say something, but a spell of coughing overcame him and Kesren had to hold him up. It looked ridiculous, the diminutive gnome supporting the comparatively huge bulk of the smith, but at the moment Karras looked more than his age. “I don’t know,” Kesren said. “I was in the back of my shop… I smelled the fire before I saw it. By the time I got to the street the whole place was engulfed in flames. Your uncle, he just barely got out ahead of it.” Karras tried to speak again, only to fail as his coughing fit redoubled. “Get him some water!” Kesren yelled, but Bredan turned and looked for his companion. “Glori…” The half-elven woman was already kneeling beside him, shifting her lyre around so that it dangled in front of her. She drew out the small silver plectrum that she used to pluck the strings, and took a single steadying breath before she began to play. Bredan had heard Glori play her lyre many times, but he had only seen her work its magic on a few rare occasions. He could feel the change with just the first few notes. The folks gathered around them grew quiet, and even the sounds of chaos coming from across the street seemed to fade away as the music swirled out of the strings. The lyre seemed to glow as Glori’s fingers rippled across the instrument, and for a moment Bredan thought he could almost see the notes drifting between her and his uncle. Karras immediately stopped coughing, and his body arched as he sucked in a deep breath. A moment later Glori stopped playing. Even though he hadn’t been a direct part of her working, Bredan felt as though a load had been lifted from his shoulders. “Uncle?” he asked. Karras took in another breath. “I’m fine. Thank you.” “What happened?” “I… I don’t know. I was working… there was a flash, and then fire… everywhere. I barely had time to get out. Everything lost… it’s all gone…” He tried to get up, but Bredan, Glori, and Kesren all pushed him down together. “I’m fine, I tell you,” the smith protested, but Glori put on her stern face. “You need to rest, Master Karras.” “You can stay with us tonight,” Kesren said. “You and Bredan both.” “They’re bringing a cart,” another of the bystanders said. “Nonsense. I can walk,” Karras said. He stood up, slowly, the others lingering around him in case Glori’s healing magic hadn’t fully negated the effects of his brush with death. He crossed to the railing that ran across the front of the porch, and stood there staring at the shell of his home and business. “I’m sorry,” Bredan said. “I should have been here…” “No, don’t take this on, it’s not your weight to carry,” Karras said sternly. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.” More people were arriving from the town, some carrying buckets or shovels or other tools to fight the fire. It didn’t look like the fire would spread; one benefit of being on the outskirts of the town was that the buildings tended to be further apart than in the more concentrated core. There would still have to be patrols, alert to the possibility of embers traveling on the evening breeze landing on a dry shingle or a mound of hay bales in a back yard. But there was nothing that could be done for the dying building. All the two smiths could do was watch as the flames swirled up into the night and everything they owned was consumed in a blazing pyre. [/QUOTE]
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