mips42
Adventurer
Quick DM's note: I’m glossing over a bunch of stuff to try to get to the “interesting bits”. Feel free to add as desired.
The life of an adventurer is hectic and dangerous. At least some of the time. The rest of the time, unless you’re industrious and willing to work, it can be dull and not at all easy to keep your belly full. This has definitely been one of those times. The last job was good, even if the pay was merely okay, and, after buying supplies, a tankard of ale or four and a few meals, the coin pouch was looking a little thin. That’s when you heard about a job in Esmer. A podunk fishing town on the edge of Lake Usta. It wasn’t much: a simple caravan guard job. Only 2 silver a day plus meals, But it was something.
Travel was easy. The land was rolling foothills with long grass dotted by occasional clumps of trees. A light breeze bends the grasses in rolling waves and the sky was cloudy and grey, with the smell of coming rain. Even the birds knew it, they were headed for the trees or other shelter when the rain started. Slowly, almost reluctantly at first, it came in a fine mist that dampened everything. Then came the real rain. Big, heavy, soaking drops dumped from the sky in near torrential downpour. Small streams quickly formed in the valleys between the small hills, but you were smart enough to stay to the high ground and even find a lone tree that, only somewhat surprisingly, had several others headed for it as well.
Although cautious and wary, the tree was the best source of shelter for miles in any direction. So, with the pelting rain continuing into the night, you spend a fairly damp evening around a very smoky fire exchanging names and tales of where you’ve been, the things you’ve seen and dangers you may have faced.
The life of an adventurer is hectic and dangerous. At least some of the time. The rest of the time, unless you’re industrious and willing to work, it can be dull and not at all easy to keep your belly full. This has definitely been one of those times. The last job was good, even if the pay was merely okay, and, after buying supplies, a tankard of ale or four and a few meals, the coin pouch was looking a little thin. That’s when you heard about a job in Esmer. A podunk fishing town on the edge of Lake Usta. It wasn’t much: a simple caravan guard job. Only 2 silver a day plus meals, But it was something.
Travel was easy. The land was rolling foothills with long grass dotted by occasional clumps of trees. A light breeze bends the grasses in rolling waves and the sky was cloudy and grey, with the smell of coming rain. Even the birds knew it, they were headed for the trees or other shelter when the rain started. Slowly, almost reluctantly at first, it came in a fine mist that dampened everything. Then came the real rain. Big, heavy, soaking drops dumped from the sky in near torrential downpour. Small streams quickly formed in the valleys between the small hills, but you were smart enough to stay to the high ground and even find a lone tree that, only somewhat surprisingly, had several others headed for it as well.
Although cautious and wary, the tree was the best source of shelter for miles in any direction. So, with the pelting rain continuing into the night, you spend a fairly damp evening around a very smoky fire exchanging names and tales of where you’ve been, the things you’ve seen and dangers you may have faced.
