mikeawmids
Explorer
Phaendar is a small agricultural town situated on a small hill overlooking the Fangwood forest. Every two months, a large market festival is held in the town square, drawing in merchants and visitors from further afield. Small children run from stall to stall, tugging at their mothers dressed and begging for treats, while broad shoulder farm hands sup ale from pewter tankards and revel in the welcome break from their labours. There are always many fresh faces at the festival, drawn to the town by the promise of a warm reception and good company. On this occasion, the freshest face of all is that belonging to Aeric of Longshadow, a strapping young guardsman assigned to protect a merchant caravan on the road between the two settlements. His chiselled features and shoulder length blond hair attract many lustful glances from the local lasses as Aeric passes through the crowd. Sunlight gleams off the oversized metal shield hung across his muscular back. Walking beside Aerich is a man who could not be more unlike his companion in terms of looks and temperament. Dark haired and swarthy, Grom has the look of a prize fighter who hasn’t won too many prizes. His nose has been broken more times than he can remember and is now more crooked than a Molthuni magistrate. Despite the heat, Grom wears a pair of studded iron gauntlets over his hands and constantly flexes his fingers within the supple leather. The two warriors pass a small stall selling curious devices and artifices. Children approach the stall eagerly, only to be pulled away by their parents when they spot the green-skinned proprietor peeking over the counter top. This is Fang, a goblin tinker who abandoned her tribe deep in the Fangwood due to their needless and malicious cruelty towards… well, everyone and everything, really. She now makes her living selling small toys and contraptions, but finds that few of the big folk are prepared to trade with a goblinoid. She might attract more customers if she sold the alchemical weapons she created for her own protection, but worries that the humans would be just as likely to put these devices to wicked purpose as her own kin.
As dusk descends and the visiting merchants begin to pack away their unsold goods, Aerich, Grom and Fang find themselves seated around the same table at the Taproot Inn. The tavern is heaving and the two human warriors were surprised to find any seats free, yet the other patrons seemed eager to give the goblin girl a wide berth. A human woman with a wooden leg and a tankard in each hand clambers up onto the bar and starts to tell a bawdy tale about a bear and a maiden. The crowd roars with laughter as she delivers the punchline and drinks deeply from her slopping cups.
“Who is that woman?” Aerich asks, after catching the sleeve of a passing server.
“That’s Aubin the Green,” the server answers, pausing to watch the one-legged woman’s drunken capering, “She used to be one of those Chesarno Rangers, but retired when she lost her leg. Don’t underestimate her because of her injury though! She can still outfight and outdrink a bear!”
Suddenly, the room began to shake. The racks of bottles behind the bar began to clatter, softly at first then with increasing volume until several bottles fell away and shattered against the ground. The crowd of revellers cried out in surprise and alarm as the building shook and groaned around them. Somehow, Aubrin the Green managed to maintain her balance atop the ale-slick counter as the mysterious vibrations rattled the walls. Grom found himself being shaken right out of his chair and ended up prone on the taproom floor. The tremors subsided as abruptly as they had started. The folk of Phaendar looked at one another for answers, yet nobody knew what was going on.
The situation deteriorated further as the taproom door burst open and two armoured hobgoblins stood silhouetted against the flames of the burning town. Phaendar was aflame!
As dusk descends and the visiting merchants begin to pack away their unsold goods, Aerich, Grom and Fang find themselves seated around the same table at the Taproot Inn. The tavern is heaving and the two human warriors were surprised to find any seats free, yet the other patrons seemed eager to give the goblin girl a wide berth. A human woman with a wooden leg and a tankard in each hand clambers up onto the bar and starts to tell a bawdy tale about a bear and a maiden. The crowd roars with laughter as she delivers the punchline and drinks deeply from her slopping cups.
“Who is that woman?” Aerich asks, after catching the sleeve of a passing server.
“That’s Aubin the Green,” the server answers, pausing to watch the one-legged woman’s drunken capering, “She used to be one of those Chesarno Rangers, but retired when she lost her leg. Don’t underestimate her because of her injury though! She can still outfight and outdrink a bear!”
Suddenly, the room began to shake. The racks of bottles behind the bar began to clatter, softly at first then with increasing volume until several bottles fell away and shattered against the ground. The crowd of revellers cried out in surprise and alarm as the building shook and groaned around them. Somehow, Aubrin the Green managed to maintain her balance atop the ale-slick counter as the mysterious vibrations rattled the walls. Grom found himself being shaken right out of his chair and ended up prone on the taproom floor. The tremors subsided as abruptly as they had started. The folk of Phaendar looked at one another for answers, yet nobody knew what was going on.
The situation deteriorated further as the taproom door burst open and two armoured hobgoblins stood silhouetted against the flames of the burning town. Phaendar was aflame!