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Travels through the Wild West: a Forgotten Realms Story
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 11607" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Hello, readers!</p><p>I just wanted to give you all a quick heads-up on the plans that I have for the Travels through the Wild West story hour. I’ve posted more stats over in the Rogues’ Gallery, and if any DM would like to adapt the story to use as an adventure in their ongoing campaign, please feel free to do so (I’d be happy to give suggestions or feedback on running any of the encounters described in the story). I will try to post stat blocks for more “generic” enemies as well as the major heroes and villains depicted in the thread. </p><p></p><p>With the defeat of the hobgoblins, I’m taking the story hour urban, and the upcoming plotline includes a mystery element as the characters must sift through a web of intrigue in Elturel. For those of you more interested in the action scenes, fear not! There will be battles aplenty coming up, I assure you. As for after that, I’m not 100% sure, but I’ve already got an idea for sending the four adventurers someplace in the Realms that could <u>really</u> be considered the “wild west”…</p><p></p><p>I hope that the characters are becoming fleshed out for you as you read. The only one I feel I’ve neglected thus far is Lok, but I intend to get to him eventually…</p><p></p><p>Anyway, thanks for all the great feedback, and now, without further ado, the story continues…</p><p></p><p>* * * * * </p><p></p><p>Part 18 </p><p></p><p></p><p>They city of Elturel and its more than twenty thousand inhabitants occupied a bluff along the winding course of the River Chionthar. To the inhabitants of the Heartlands, or the urban conglomerates of the once-empires of the east, Elturel was just another provincial bordertown of the far west, an outpost on a distant and dangerous frontier. But to those who lived in the Western Heartlands, or who traveled through it on missions of trade, the city was an important waystation on the route between the Sword Coast and the inland regions around the Sea of Fallen Stars. Its reputation was enhanced by the benign rule of the powerful Lord Dhelt, a paladin of considerable renown. From his fortress keep of Riverwatch, Dhelt’s elite force of two hundred mixed cavalry, the Hellriders, maintained a potent ward against the evils that lurked in the hills and forests of the region. </p><p></p><p>Elturel still bore the mark of its origins as a frontier town, both in its military veneer and in the individualism of its inhabitants. Its important location on the major western trade routes also showed in the presence of numerous powerful merchant houses and its wide variety of skilled crafts, both fantastic and mundane. The representatives of the city’s elite class that sat on the town council reflected all of these traditions, and many of the aristocrats, soldiers, and master merchants that sat on that body could trace their ancestry back to the initial pioneers that had blazed this region from the wild centuries ago.</p><p></p><p>Cal commented on what he knew of the city’s history and lore as he and Delem walked down one of the city’s crowded thoroughfares. Although the city only had a little over twenty-two thousand inhabitants (making it seem small indeed in comparison with metropolises like Waterdeep or Athkatla), the city’s need for defense meant that the layout of the city was compressed into a relatively small area within the outer walls. Some neighborhoods had begun to expand outward along the river cliffs, but there was always a tentative air about them, as if the inhabitants there were keeping ready to scuttle back into the city should danger rear its ugly head. </p><p></p><p>“I’m a little nervous,” Delem admitted, as they made their way through the afternoon crowd. The sorcerer looked a little uncomfortable in his new—and fairly expensive—clothes, which included a fur-trimmed cloak and a double-stitched tunic over wool breeches. </p><p></p><p>“It’ll be fine,” Cal said, dressed in similarly improved fashion. The gnome noted to himself the changes that had come over his young human companion in just the short time since they had met. While he could still be hesitant at times, Delem had learned to be comfortable with the power that he wielded, and be more confident as an equal member of their little company. Perhaps it had something to do with the symbol he now wore around his neck, tucked inside the front of his tunic under his coat. He’d made it himself, with some assistance from Lok. The symbol was a stylized depiction of a flame fashioned from slender slips of iron, and was the icon of the followers of the elemental god Kossuth. </p><p></p><p>Cal knew that Delem was still trying to come to grips with his new calling as a cleric. There was no denying the power that he had channeled during their final encounters in the Wood of Sharp Teeth, however, power that had ultimately saved the lives of both Cal and Benzan. What Delem had learned since arriving in Elturel was limited, for devotees of the Firelord were apparently quite uncommon in the West, but the sage that they had questioned had mentioned that many of the Red Wizards were known to follow Kossuth, a linkage of dubious appeal to say the least. </p><p></p><p>“There’s Benzan and Lok,” Delem said, rousing the gnome from his ruminations. </p><p></p><p>They rejoined their companions, who were dressed in similarly elaborate clothing, in front of a corner bakery that fronted an intersection of two city streets. Lok wore his armor, which had been attentively polished, and Benzan wore a colorful silken surcoat over his chain shirt that seemed to be in imminent danger from the globs of honey dripping from the sticky bun that the tiefling was gobbling down as the others approached. </p><p></p><p>“You know, they will have food at this thing,” Cal chided him. </p><p></p><p>“I wouldn’t be so certain,” Benzan replied as he sucked honey from his fingers. “We’re going to be there to be oohed and aahed over, and poked and prodded by a bunch of inbred aristocrats. I won’t be surprised if they don’t let us get a word—or a bite—in edgewise.”</p><p></p><p>“An invitation from Lord Dhelt himself is a considerable honor,” Lok said. </p><p></p><p>“Don’t get me wrong, I’m honored, I’m honored,” Benzan protested. “I was even more honored by the reward that the Merchant’s Circle gave us, for all that one of those silver bars we found at the hobgoblin fort was worth more.” Cal cringed momentarily, awaiting the seemingly obligatory profanity, but apparently Benzan had gotten over the debacle of the nearly empty treasure chest, for he merely scowled and turned up the street. </p><p></p><p>“Your song was very popular at the gathering,” Delem said to Cal, changing the topic as they headed out again as a group. “Are you going to perform it again tonight for the nobles?”</p><p></p><p>“A good artist always tailors his work for the audience,” Cal said, but he wouldn’t elaborate more. </p><p></p><p>“Did you find what you were looking for?” Benzan asked as they rounded a bend in the street and saw their destination ahead. Riverwatch looked impressive, perched on the edge of the bluff, the light of the setting sun catching majestically on the ramparts of Dhelt’s stronghold, but all of them were had traveled through enough lands to put the appearance of the fortress into context. </p><p></p><p>“The priests of Oghma were very helpful,” Cal said, patting his pocket where his new wand of healing resided. “We got a good rate of exchange for Zorak’s armor; I also have some vials of healing elixir back at the inn for each of you when we return.”</p><p></p><p>“Let’s hope we don’t need them tonight,” Benzan muttered.</p><p></p><p>“Now, the bark of aristocrats is far worse than their bite,” Cal chided him. “Just try not to let any words come out of your mouth, and you’ll do fine.”</p><p></p><p>“I feel like I just want to sleep for a week,” Delem added. </p><p></p><p>It had been a busy week for all of them, Cal reflected, and tonight’s audience with the leaders of the city was only the capstone of all that had happened since they had left the empty hobgoblin fort behind them. The road back to Dunderion, and from there to Elturel, had been much easier than the journey out, as the winds had elected to keep the northern storms at bay for the moment. They had barely exited the forest when they had encountered a full platoon of Hellriders, under the leadership of a Lieutenant Gryphon. After an extensive questioning, during which Cal reported all that had transpired since leaving Dunderion, they were escorted back to the village, where they delivered the news of Telwarden’s death. </p><p></p><p>They had expected to accompany the Lady Ilgarten back to Elturel, on her way back to Iriaebor and her father, but to their surprise she had insisted on continuing directly on to Baldur’s Gate. Unable to convince her otherwise, they left her in the company of another merchant company heading west, and continued on to Elturel. </p><p></p><p>On arriving in Elturel, things had become only more bustling for the four companions. They’d been quickly ushered into an audience with a full captain of the Hellriders, representing Lord Dhelt, and the powerful Secretary of the City Council, a reedy middle-aged official named Gergan Podranus. Apparently news of what had happened had preceded them, for everywhere they went over the next few days there were people wanting to talk to them, from lower-level officials and guard officers to representatives of the merchant companies who traveled the western routes. They were even approached in their inn by a traveling bard wanting to pen a song about their adventures, an encounter that caused Cal considerable amusement. </p><p></p><p>“Ha! If anyone’s going to write a song about our travels, it’ll be the bard that was actually there!” he had declared loudly. </p><p></p><p>It wasn’t until today, their third day in the city, that they could actually start to attend to important business. Their equipment was generally in need of upkeep and repair, and their clothes showed the hard wear of their recent days in the wilderness. Benzan and Lok found places where they could convert their various treasures into ready cash, including the extra equipment they had salvaged from the bandits and the jewelry they had taken from the corpse of the undead ogre. In addition to trading Zorak’s armor for a new healing wand, they also bought new ammunition for their bows, stocked up on wilderness gear, and even checked out the local alchemist’s shop for some relatively inexpensive magical potions. Cal purchased the arcane supplies needed to add a few spells to his spellbook, and Benzan practiced with his new scimitar. That weapon proved to be quite a boon, for although he was reluctant to part with his heavier longsword at first, he quickly discovered that the scimitar’s magically keen blade could cut finer and deeper than even the masterwork blade that he wielded. </p><p></p><p>They had discovered something else on their journeys, as well. The four of them, so very different in so many ways, had forged a bond between them, a friendship that was able to transcend those differences. Cal thought often about what strange circumstance had drawn the four of them together on that lonely road just a week past, and the wanderer in him could not help but look ahead and guess what roads lay in their future. </p><p></p><p>For now, anyway, the road led to a big party.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 11607, member: 143"] Hello, readers! I just wanted to give you all a quick heads-up on the plans that I have for the Travels through the Wild West story hour. I’ve posted more stats over in the Rogues’ Gallery, and if any DM would like to adapt the story to use as an adventure in their ongoing campaign, please feel free to do so (I’d be happy to give suggestions or feedback on running any of the encounters described in the story). I will try to post stat blocks for more “generic” enemies as well as the major heroes and villains depicted in the thread. With the defeat of the hobgoblins, I’m taking the story hour urban, and the upcoming plotline includes a mystery element as the characters must sift through a web of intrigue in Elturel. For those of you more interested in the action scenes, fear not! There will be battles aplenty coming up, I assure you. As for after that, I’m not 100% sure, but I’ve already got an idea for sending the four adventurers someplace in the Realms that could [U]really[/U] be considered the “wild west”… I hope that the characters are becoming fleshed out for you as you read. The only one I feel I’ve neglected thus far is Lok, but I intend to get to him eventually… Anyway, thanks for all the great feedback, and now, without further ado, the story continues… * * * * * Part 18 They city of Elturel and its more than twenty thousand inhabitants occupied a bluff along the winding course of the River Chionthar. To the inhabitants of the Heartlands, or the urban conglomerates of the once-empires of the east, Elturel was just another provincial bordertown of the far west, an outpost on a distant and dangerous frontier. But to those who lived in the Western Heartlands, or who traveled through it on missions of trade, the city was an important waystation on the route between the Sword Coast and the inland regions around the Sea of Fallen Stars. Its reputation was enhanced by the benign rule of the powerful Lord Dhelt, a paladin of considerable renown. From his fortress keep of Riverwatch, Dhelt’s elite force of two hundred mixed cavalry, the Hellriders, maintained a potent ward against the evils that lurked in the hills and forests of the region. Elturel still bore the mark of its origins as a frontier town, both in its military veneer and in the individualism of its inhabitants. Its important location on the major western trade routes also showed in the presence of numerous powerful merchant houses and its wide variety of skilled crafts, both fantastic and mundane. The representatives of the city’s elite class that sat on the town council reflected all of these traditions, and many of the aristocrats, soldiers, and master merchants that sat on that body could trace their ancestry back to the initial pioneers that had blazed this region from the wild centuries ago. Cal commented on what he knew of the city’s history and lore as he and Delem walked down one of the city’s crowded thoroughfares. Although the city only had a little over twenty-two thousand inhabitants (making it seem small indeed in comparison with metropolises like Waterdeep or Athkatla), the city’s need for defense meant that the layout of the city was compressed into a relatively small area within the outer walls. Some neighborhoods had begun to expand outward along the river cliffs, but there was always a tentative air about them, as if the inhabitants there were keeping ready to scuttle back into the city should danger rear its ugly head. “I’m a little nervous,” Delem admitted, as they made their way through the afternoon crowd. The sorcerer looked a little uncomfortable in his new—and fairly expensive—clothes, which included a fur-trimmed cloak and a double-stitched tunic over wool breeches. “It’ll be fine,” Cal said, dressed in similarly improved fashion. The gnome noted to himself the changes that had come over his young human companion in just the short time since they had met. While he could still be hesitant at times, Delem had learned to be comfortable with the power that he wielded, and be more confident as an equal member of their little company. Perhaps it had something to do with the symbol he now wore around his neck, tucked inside the front of his tunic under his coat. He’d made it himself, with some assistance from Lok. The symbol was a stylized depiction of a flame fashioned from slender slips of iron, and was the icon of the followers of the elemental god Kossuth. Cal knew that Delem was still trying to come to grips with his new calling as a cleric. There was no denying the power that he had channeled during their final encounters in the Wood of Sharp Teeth, however, power that had ultimately saved the lives of both Cal and Benzan. What Delem had learned since arriving in Elturel was limited, for devotees of the Firelord were apparently quite uncommon in the West, but the sage that they had questioned had mentioned that many of the Red Wizards were known to follow Kossuth, a linkage of dubious appeal to say the least. “There’s Benzan and Lok,” Delem said, rousing the gnome from his ruminations. They rejoined their companions, who were dressed in similarly elaborate clothing, in front of a corner bakery that fronted an intersection of two city streets. Lok wore his armor, which had been attentively polished, and Benzan wore a colorful silken surcoat over his chain shirt that seemed to be in imminent danger from the globs of honey dripping from the sticky bun that the tiefling was gobbling down as the others approached. “You know, they will have food at this thing,” Cal chided him. “I wouldn’t be so certain,” Benzan replied as he sucked honey from his fingers. “We’re going to be there to be oohed and aahed over, and poked and prodded by a bunch of inbred aristocrats. I won’t be surprised if they don’t let us get a word—or a bite—in edgewise.” “An invitation from Lord Dhelt himself is a considerable honor,” Lok said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m honored, I’m honored,” Benzan protested. “I was even more honored by the reward that the Merchant’s Circle gave us, for all that one of those silver bars we found at the hobgoblin fort was worth more.” Cal cringed momentarily, awaiting the seemingly obligatory profanity, but apparently Benzan had gotten over the debacle of the nearly empty treasure chest, for he merely scowled and turned up the street. “Your song was very popular at the gathering,” Delem said to Cal, changing the topic as they headed out again as a group. “Are you going to perform it again tonight for the nobles?” “A good artist always tailors his work for the audience,” Cal said, but he wouldn’t elaborate more. “Did you find what you were looking for?” Benzan asked as they rounded a bend in the street and saw their destination ahead. Riverwatch looked impressive, perched on the edge of the bluff, the light of the setting sun catching majestically on the ramparts of Dhelt’s stronghold, but all of them were had traveled through enough lands to put the appearance of the fortress into context. “The priests of Oghma were very helpful,” Cal said, patting his pocket where his new wand of healing resided. “We got a good rate of exchange for Zorak’s armor; I also have some vials of healing elixir back at the inn for each of you when we return.” “Let’s hope we don’t need them tonight,” Benzan muttered. “Now, the bark of aristocrats is far worse than their bite,” Cal chided him. “Just try not to let any words come out of your mouth, and you’ll do fine.” “I feel like I just want to sleep for a week,” Delem added. It had been a busy week for all of them, Cal reflected, and tonight’s audience with the leaders of the city was only the capstone of all that had happened since they had left the empty hobgoblin fort behind them. The road back to Dunderion, and from there to Elturel, had been much easier than the journey out, as the winds had elected to keep the northern storms at bay for the moment. They had barely exited the forest when they had encountered a full platoon of Hellriders, under the leadership of a Lieutenant Gryphon. After an extensive questioning, during which Cal reported all that had transpired since leaving Dunderion, they were escorted back to the village, where they delivered the news of Telwarden’s death. They had expected to accompany the Lady Ilgarten back to Elturel, on her way back to Iriaebor and her father, but to their surprise she had insisted on continuing directly on to Baldur’s Gate. Unable to convince her otherwise, they left her in the company of another merchant company heading west, and continued on to Elturel. On arriving in Elturel, things had become only more bustling for the four companions. They’d been quickly ushered into an audience with a full captain of the Hellriders, representing Lord Dhelt, and the powerful Secretary of the City Council, a reedy middle-aged official named Gergan Podranus. Apparently news of what had happened had preceded them, for everywhere they went over the next few days there were people wanting to talk to them, from lower-level officials and guard officers to representatives of the merchant companies who traveled the western routes. They were even approached in their inn by a traveling bard wanting to pen a song about their adventures, an encounter that caused Cal considerable amusement. “Ha! If anyone’s going to write a song about our travels, it’ll be the bard that was actually there!” he had declared loudly. It wasn’t until today, their third day in the city, that they could actually start to attend to important business. Their equipment was generally in need of upkeep and repair, and their clothes showed the hard wear of their recent days in the wilderness. Benzan and Lok found places where they could convert their various treasures into ready cash, including the extra equipment they had salvaged from the bandits and the jewelry they had taken from the corpse of the undead ogre. In addition to trading Zorak’s armor for a new healing wand, they also bought new ammunition for their bows, stocked up on wilderness gear, and even checked out the local alchemist’s shop for some relatively inexpensive magical potions. Cal purchased the arcane supplies needed to add a few spells to his spellbook, and Benzan practiced with his new scimitar. That weapon proved to be quite a boon, for although he was reluctant to part with his heavier longsword at first, he quickly discovered that the scimitar’s magically keen blade could cut finer and deeper than even the masterwork blade that he wielded. They had discovered something else on their journeys, as well. The four of them, so very different in so many ways, had forged a bond between them, a friendship that was able to transcend those differences. Cal thought often about what strange circumstance had drawn the four of them together on that lonely road just a week past, and the wanderer in him could not help but look ahead and guess what roads lay in their future. For now, anyway, the road led to a big party. [/QUOTE]
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