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Hello everyone! I'm DM'ing a group that likes to dabble in various settings. This month we're having a go at Shadowrun, and I'm trying my hand at writing my first scenario from top to bottom. I've gathered a pile of ideas, creative outbursts and general musings in a heap below. If someone could...

Percev rubbed his hands together slowly, an appraising eye taking in the length of the armour displayed before him. "Aye, fine work it is indeed master Oakleaf" he said, his lined face splitting into a wide grin. "I'm sure my Master will be most pleased with it" he leaned down to bring over a...

Time goes by. People drink their fill, the day wears on. And someone enters... The small, gruff figure of Percev can be seen through the crowd as he makes his way to the bar. His unkept beard seems in better shape than last time, groomed and well cared for. He puts his shapeless leather cap to...

Oercev's eyes widened visibly as Kirion slid the platinum rod across the table towards him. "Oh I will most certainly, goodman Oakleaf, you can count on that to be true, an' no mistake" "I'll be happy to inform my master of your progress then, master smith, and I'll be back here with an escort...

"Aye-" *huff* "the scales, I have" *huffpuff* "You'll get them soon enough-" *wheeze* "-just, just let me catch my breath" Percev tok a few more moments to catch his much needed breath. Finally, after having gulped down several more mouthfuls of air, he turned his attention to Kirion once more...

The short, stocky form of Percev enters the tavern at a trot, heaving and puffing and by all accounts quite out of breath. Oblivious of Kirion for a moment, he slumps against the bar and takes a few badly needed moments to catch his breath. With time however, he glances to his left, and nods...

The short man cast a mournful glance into his empty cup of mead. How had its contents disappeared so soon? He could brood about that later though, he thought, turning his attention back to Kirion. "Seeing as how Gorgon scales are quite valubale in it's own right, my master does not wish to...

OoC: Righty'o then Farel, I've started a thread for your convenience on the Map of the Planes boards. It is called "Nightly Endeavours". I expect to see you post there.

"They say only a thief can track a thief" Percev replied with a chuckle "and if my master believes that it takes one of your caliber to pull this off, then by all means, it is none of my business whom he choses to hire" "Why my master does what he does is not my to say, I am a simple messenger...

Ceptum ab Limus "The book itself" the small man replied, scratching his cheek absentmindedly "Is rather diminutive in scale, it's about one foot tall, and half a foot wide. It is dark-grey in colour, and should have the words "Ceptum ab Lumis" inscribed on the cover. I think the language is...

Percev jumped suddenly as Kirion sat down at his table. The young elf had come at him quite suddenly, and so Percev found himself a bit startled - it was he who was supposed to find him, after all, not the other way around! None the less, Percev composed himself, drained the last of his cup and...

Percev put his feet on the table with a heavy sigh, the rickety chair he sat on creaking dangerously as he tilted it backwards to stand on only two of it's four battered legs. He'd said he'd be here, the man called Oakleaf "...in the morning and the afternood, but not the evening..." It was...

The short man let his hazel eyes travel up and down the newcomer, taking in any noteworthy details, sizeing him up. He took a swig from his mug, and remained silent for a few moments more, apperantly thinking about something. "I have no need of your services" he said quietly, his voice dry and...

A short, stocky man with a gnarled face decorated with a grey, week-old stubble sauntered into the tavern. He tipped the brim of his brown, shapeless hat at Beegee the Bar Golem, ordered himself a mug of spiced ale and then pulled up a worn chair for himself at a table in the middle of the room...

At one place in the wall, writing has been chiseled into the smooth, grey stonework. It has almost been worn away with age, and is only barely readable. To anyone learned in dwarven runes, it reads: In memory of Keth, proud son of Durgis Rock. You didn't catch fish so well, but handled the axe...

A short man with a grey, week-old stubble adorning his chin wipes the back of his hand on the sleeve of his tattered excuse for a coat, and quickly pens a reply. Dear Mysterious Artisan You offer services which my Master has need of, and so I should be happy to contact you in his behalf to...

A short man with a grey, week-old stubble adorning his chin wipes the back of his hand on the sleeve of his tattered excuse for a coat, and quickly pens a reply. Dear Mysterious Artisan You offer services which my Master has need of, and so I should be happy to contact you in his behalf to...

A short, gnarled man wearing a floppy, brown hat stops for a moment on his way across the plaza. He takes a few steps closer and peers intently at the note, reading it several times over. He strokes the grey stubble on his chin a few times, before quickly penning a reply. Dear Sir, My master...

A short, thick-set man wearing a leather armour studded with metal rivets over a dirty, spotted tunic makes his way over to the boards. Upon spotting Duros' post he quickly searches his pockets for pen and parchement and soon pins his reply neatly below the first one. It reads as follows: Mr...

Another post is pinned beneath the last reply, written in the same plain script, it reads: You are willing to undertake the job? Excellent, and how might one go about contacting you, so as to work out the details of this assignment?