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<blockquote data-quote="Dr Midnight" data-source="post: 4296883" data-attributes="member: 69"><p style="text-align: center">Session 1 – Chapter 2</p> <p style="text-align: center">A Bad Day for the Working Class</p> <p style="text-align: center">_______________</p><p></p><p>That afternoon, the company of BERAK’S FINE TRADE GOODS reached the village of Winterhaven. The town itself was walled off from the surrounding farms and countryside, and these walls were lined with defensive palisades. The Cairngorn Peaks loomed over the walls of the town, to the north. To the south and the west lay only dark woods. If the stories about the outer territories were true, those woods could go on forever, as far as anyone knew. This was reportedly the end of the line for civilization in this region of the world… a point of light in the darkness.</p><p></p><p>Two guards at the gate nodded in greeting to the sullen group as they walked into the town square. Here, market day was in full swing. The town was festooned with colorful tents, wagons, stands, and shoppers and vendors of all kinds. It was the last thing Berak wanted to see at the moment. The space he had reserved to sell his goods from was sitting there in space G13, and it was exactly the size of his now charred cart. </p><p>“What now, boss?” Greldo asked.</p><p></p><p>Berak sneered. “What do you mean, what now? I’m going home.”</p><p></p><p>“Um… you are, or WE are?”</p><p></p><p>“You’re fired.” Berak began walking to a large caravan of wagons, where people could charter safe passage to the eastern territories. Greldo exchanged a look with the others. They hadn’t been paid for their week’s worth of work. He moved quickly and stepped in front of Berak with his hand outstretched. “What the hell do you want now?” Berak snapped.</p><p></p><p>“Our money. You owe us three gold pieces each.”</p><p></p><p>“You’ve got to be kidding me.”</p><p></p><p>Greldo began raising his voice. “This isn’t funny, Berak. We’ve worked for you for an entire week!”</p><p></p><p>“I would have paid you to guard my cart. You failed, so you don’t get a copper. Get out of my way or I’ll call the guards.” He shuffled by Greldo. </p><p></p><p>“Son of a bitch. That son of a bitch! What are we going to do?”</p><p></p><p>Gloraen was the appointed party treasurer. He took out the communal purse and looked through it. “Uh… well, we had four silver pieces when we were hired. Those kobolds had thirty-four silver, so we’re at thirty-eight.”</p><p></p><p>“Thirty-eight silver pieces won’t last us two days,” Moltezom moaned. “We can sell the shields the kobolds had, and their short-swords.”</p><p></p><p>“That’ll buy us a bit more time to figure out a plan, I suppose,” Gloraen said. </p><p></p><p>The party quieted down as the caravan started moving out toward the front gate. Berak’s mules were yoked to the rear of the wagons, and Berak himself sat in one of the coach wagons along a dozen other travelers. He looked at the party, and they looked back at him. </p><p></p><p>“I’m going to tell everyone back home,” he hissed, “of how you failed completely to do your jobs. I’m going to ruin your names.”</p><p></p><p>Lathon’s nostrils flared and he reached up into the wagon, grabbing Berak by the tunic and flinging him down into the hard-packed dirt of the village square. The entire market gasped and all talk ceased. The dragonborn pointed down at the merchant and spoke with bared fangs. “You will not drag our good names through the mud. You will not.” The party backed a step away from Lathon. His anger was palpable.</p><p></p><p>“Ack… HELP! HELP, GUARDS!”</p><p></p><p>“Our honor is all we have, and I demand that you don’t sully it, you filth.”</p><p></p><p>The two guards from the town gate ran up, brandishing spears. Berak scrambled to his feet and hid behind them. “Arrest that thing, it just attacked me!!”</p><p></p><p>The guards clearly did not like the sight of the immense, seething paladin. One spoke nervously. “What has happened here?” </p><p></p><p>The two sides told their stories. Greldo tossed in “And he stole my snow globes!”</p><p></p><p>The guards, with their spears pointed firmly to the dragonborn, said “All right. Uh. We can get this all figured out. For right now, though, we’re going to need you to come with us.” </p><p></p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” Lathon said. </p><p></p><p>“I’m afraid you’re going to have to hand over your weapon and come with us!”</p><p></p><p>“No,” the paladin said coolly. The guards glanced at each other. Neither seemed confident that they could bring the creature down, if they needed to.</p><p></p><p>“Do as he says,” a voice called over the crowd. The onlookers in the market parted, and five more guards moved in. The captain of the guard walked up and said “Drop your weapon, dragonborn, and come with us. If you don’t, we’ll take you by force.” The seven guards were surrounding Lathon, spears angled inward.</p><p></p><p>“Come on, then,” Lathon said. His body was perfectly still and his eyes were blazing.</p><p></p><p>Gloraen moved in, with his hands held up and outward. “Wait, wait! This needn’t turn into more senseless violence. I can assure you, this man refused to pay us and threatened to besmirch our honor. I’m afraid our friend is very sensitive where issues of honor are concerned.”</p><p></p><p>The captain of the guard said “That’s irrelevant. He’s assaulted someone in our town square and WILL be arrested and the merchant will be questioned. We can have a local magistrate review the case, but for now, he comes with us.”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t have time to be questioned, I have to travel east,” Berak pleaded.</p><p></p><p>“I believe I have a solution,” Gloraen said. “I propose this. We let you go, Berak, with the fifteen gold pieces you owe us.”</p><p></p><p>“And my snow globes,” Greldo added.</p><p></p><p>“In return, you do NOT drag our names through the mud in our hometown. If you agree, we can end this right here and go our separate ways. What do you say?”</p><p></p><p>Berak looked to the cleric defiantly, then to the paladin. The look on Lathon’s face frightened the merchant badly, and he suddenly wanted to be as far from here as possible. “That’s fine. I won’t say a thing. Just let me get out of here.”</p><p></p><p>Gloraen smiled at the captain. “Well, are we finished here?”</p><p></p><p>The captain gestured to Berak. “That’s fine. He can go if he wishes, but the dragonborn comes with us. I cannot overlook violence in our town square.”</p><p></p><p>Lathon’s eyes smoldered and the square was silent for a moment before he spoke. “I’ll go,” he said, “But I’m keeping my weapons.”</p><p></p><p>The captain sighed. “If it means you’ll go without trouble, I suppose I’ll allow it. Peacetie your sword.” He tossed a small cord to the paladin, who caught it and wrapped it about his crossguard and belt. The shoulders of the guards seemed to slump in relief. Berak sprinted for the caravan and clambered aboard. It began rolling again and passed from sight through the gate.</p><p></p><p>The guards, captain, and Lathon walked north toward a walled portion of town. The party watched them go. “Well, this is fantastic,” Greldo said. “We’re marooned at the far edge of the territories with a few silver to our name and the paladin, who’s supposed to uphold good and law and all that other religious puffery, has a fit over nothing and gets arrested.”</p><p></p><p>“You know how Lathon gets about certain things,” Osivan said. “He won’t compromise. I’m surprised he even went without a fight.” </p><p></p><p>Moltezom looked around and scratched his head. “Okay. We’re stuck here for the time being and we’ve lost our paladin. What’s the next move?”</p><p>Gloraen said “I want to start working on his release. I believe that if I can find a clergyman of Bahamut here in town to vouch for him as a holy knight, it’ll be easier to make a case for him to be let go.” </p><p></p><p>“Probably a fine idea,” Osivan nodded. “We’ll stay here, sell the kobolds’ things and get a room for the night.” The group split up.</p><p></p><p>Gloraen was saddened to learn that there was no temple of Bahamut here in town; the temple was one of Avandra. The temple made allowances for different good faiths, though, and there was a small altar dedicated to Bahamut within. It was a very progressive touch. In speaking with Sister Linora at the temple, he enquired about influential townsfolk that might be worshipers of Bahamut. She replied that the town’s lord, Ernest Padraig, was one. Gloraen thanked her and headed toward the noble house. Finally, a piece of luck.</p><p></p><p>At Lord Padraig’s manor, he was allowed in. He found Padraig in a plush burgundy room with a broad oak desk and elegant furnishings. Padraig stood and met the cleric with a smile. “Ah, good afternoon. I’m Ernest Padraig, greetings and welcome to Winterhaven! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He poured a glass of water and placed it before Gloraen.</p><p></p><p>“Well may I just say it’s a lovely town here, my lord. I come to you today to amend a wrong that’s been committed by a friend of mine. My adventuring party were traveling into town earlier today, guarding a carriage…”</p><p></p><p>“I’m sorry, did you say ‘guarding?’ Are you not visiting dignitaries?”</p><p></p><p>“Uh… no.” Padraig slumped in his seat, visibly disappointed. Gloraen, seeing he was losing his audience, quickly rushed to regain ground. “We are, however, an adventuring party. We’re just moonlighting as guards. Anyway, we were traveling into town and we were attacked by a band of kobolds, who set fire to…” He told his story and Padraig listened. </p><p></p><p>Finally, Padraig took a breath and spoke. “You’re not the first group of travelers to be menaced by the kobolds that have turned the old King’s Road and our outlying farms into their personal hunting grounds. These beasts… they vex me. Sorely.” He stood and strolled slowly to a window looking out onto the street. “The villagers, however, refuse to recognize the seriousness of the problem; they won’t allow me to form a group to go out and exterminate them. Attacks along the road have grown more frequent over the past few months. Something’s stirring the kobolds up.” He paused for a moment, then turned and sat back down. “Perhaps we can help each other out.”</p><p></p><p>Gloraen nodded happily. “What can we do to help Winterhaven?”</p><p></p><p>“If you and your group agree to go out and rid us of the kobold nuisance, I will secure the release of your friend the dragonborn, and on proof of exterminating the menace, will render to you a payment. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much, though.”</p><p></p><p>“Whatever Winterhaven can pay will serve, my lord.” Gloraen hoped for fifteen gold. That would book passage for the group back home, if they wanted, or at least help them to hold out for the time being. It would certainly make up for the last week of misery in dealing with Berak. Twenty gold pieces would be fantastic.</p><p></p><p>“How does one hundred gold pieces sound?”</p><p></p><p>Gloraen coughed, sipped his water and said “We accept.”</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">__________</p> <p style="text-align: center"></p> <p style="text-align: center">Next time</p> <p style="text-align: center">Gone Hunting</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Dr Midnight, post: 4296883, member: 69"] [CENTER]Session 1 – Chapter 2 A Bad Day for the Working Class _______________[/CENTER] That afternoon, the company of BERAK’S FINE TRADE GOODS reached the village of Winterhaven. The town itself was walled off from the surrounding farms and countryside, and these walls were lined with defensive palisades. The Cairngorn Peaks loomed over the walls of the town, to the north. To the south and the west lay only dark woods. If the stories about the outer territories were true, those woods could go on forever, as far as anyone knew. This was reportedly the end of the line for civilization in this region of the world… a point of light in the darkness. Two guards at the gate nodded in greeting to the sullen group as they walked into the town square. Here, market day was in full swing. The town was festooned with colorful tents, wagons, stands, and shoppers and vendors of all kinds. It was the last thing Berak wanted to see at the moment. The space he had reserved to sell his goods from was sitting there in space G13, and it was exactly the size of his now charred cart. “What now, boss?” Greldo asked. Berak sneered. “What do you mean, what now? I’m going home.” “Um… you are, or WE are?” “You’re fired.” Berak began walking to a large caravan of wagons, where people could charter safe passage to the eastern territories. Greldo exchanged a look with the others. They hadn’t been paid for their week’s worth of work. He moved quickly and stepped in front of Berak with his hand outstretched. “What the hell do you want now?” Berak snapped. “Our money. You owe us three gold pieces each.” “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Greldo began raising his voice. “This isn’t funny, Berak. We’ve worked for you for an entire week!” “I would have paid you to guard my cart. You failed, so you don’t get a copper. Get out of my way or I’ll call the guards.” He shuffled by Greldo. “Son of a bitch. That son of a bitch! What are we going to do?” Gloraen was the appointed party treasurer. He took out the communal purse and looked through it. “Uh… well, we had four silver pieces when we were hired. Those kobolds had thirty-four silver, so we’re at thirty-eight.” “Thirty-eight silver pieces won’t last us two days,” Moltezom moaned. “We can sell the shields the kobolds had, and their short-swords.” “That’ll buy us a bit more time to figure out a plan, I suppose,” Gloraen said. The party quieted down as the caravan started moving out toward the front gate. Berak’s mules were yoked to the rear of the wagons, and Berak himself sat in one of the coach wagons along a dozen other travelers. He looked at the party, and they looked back at him. “I’m going to tell everyone back home,” he hissed, “of how you failed completely to do your jobs. I’m going to ruin your names.” Lathon’s nostrils flared and he reached up into the wagon, grabbing Berak by the tunic and flinging him down into the hard-packed dirt of the village square. The entire market gasped and all talk ceased. The dragonborn pointed down at the merchant and spoke with bared fangs. “You will not drag our good names through the mud. You will not.” The party backed a step away from Lathon. His anger was palpable. “Ack… HELP! HELP, GUARDS!” “Our honor is all we have, and I demand that you don’t sully it, you filth.” The two guards from the town gate ran up, brandishing spears. Berak scrambled to his feet and hid behind them. “Arrest that thing, it just attacked me!!” The guards clearly did not like the sight of the immense, seething paladin. One spoke nervously. “What has happened here?” The two sides told their stories. Greldo tossed in “And he stole my snow globes!” The guards, with their spears pointed firmly to the dragonborn, said “All right. Uh. We can get this all figured out. For right now, though, we’re going to need you to come with us.” “I’m not going anywhere,” Lathon said. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to hand over your weapon and come with us!” “No,” the paladin said coolly. The guards glanced at each other. Neither seemed confident that they could bring the creature down, if they needed to. “Do as he says,” a voice called over the crowd. The onlookers in the market parted, and five more guards moved in. The captain of the guard walked up and said “Drop your weapon, dragonborn, and come with us. If you don’t, we’ll take you by force.” The seven guards were surrounding Lathon, spears angled inward. “Come on, then,” Lathon said. His body was perfectly still and his eyes were blazing. Gloraen moved in, with his hands held up and outward. “Wait, wait! This needn’t turn into more senseless violence. I can assure you, this man refused to pay us and threatened to besmirch our honor. I’m afraid our friend is very sensitive where issues of honor are concerned.” The captain of the guard said “That’s irrelevant. He’s assaulted someone in our town square and WILL be arrested and the merchant will be questioned. We can have a local magistrate review the case, but for now, he comes with us.” “I don’t have time to be questioned, I have to travel east,” Berak pleaded. “I believe I have a solution,” Gloraen said. “I propose this. We let you go, Berak, with the fifteen gold pieces you owe us.” “And my snow globes,” Greldo added. “In return, you do NOT drag our names through the mud in our hometown. If you agree, we can end this right here and go our separate ways. What do you say?” Berak looked to the cleric defiantly, then to the paladin. The look on Lathon’s face frightened the merchant badly, and he suddenly wanted to be as far from here as possible. “That’s fine. I won’t say a thing. Just let me get out of here.” Gloraen smiled at the captain. “Well, are we finished here?” The captain gestured to Berak. “That’s fine. He can go if he wishes, but the dragonborn comes with us. I cannot overlook violence in our town square.” Lathon’s eyes smoldered and the square was silent for a moment before he spoke. “I’ll go,” he said, “But I’m keeping my weapons.” The captain sighed. “If it means you’ll go without trouble, I suppose I’ll allow it. Peacetie your sword.” He tossed a small cord to the paladin, who caught it and wrapped it about his crossguard and belt. The shoulders of the guards seemed to slump in relief. Berak sprinted for the caravan and clambered aboard. It began rolling again and passed from sight through the gate. The guards, captain, and Lathon walked north toward a walled portion of town. The party watched them go. “Well, this is fantastic,” Greldo said. “We’re marooned at the far edge of the territories with a few silver to our name and the paladin, who’s supposed to uphold good and law and all that other religious puffery, has a fit over nothing and gets arrested.” “You know how Lathon gets about certain things,” Osivan said. “He won’t compromise. I’m surprised he even went without a fight.” Moltezom looked around and scratched his head. “Okay. We’re stuck here for the time being and we’ve lost our paladin. What’s the next move?” Gloraen said “I want to start working on his release. I believe that if I can find a clergyman of Bahamut here in town to vouch for him as a holy knight, it’ll be easier to make a case for him to be let go.” “Probably a fine idea,” Osivan nodded. “We’ll stay here, sell the kobolds’ things and get a room for the night.” The group split up. Gloraen was saddened to learn that there was no temple of Bahamut here in town; the temple was one of Avandra. The temple made allowances for different good faiths, though, and there was a small altar dedicated to Bahamut within. It was a very progressive touch. In speaking with Sister Linora at the temple, he enquired about influential townsfolk that might be worshipers of Bahamut. She replied that the town’s lord, Ernest Padraig, was one. Gloraen thanked her and headed toward the noble house. Finally, a piece of luck. At Lord Padraig’s manor, he was allowed in. He found Padraig in a plush burgundy room with a broad oak desk and elegant furnishings. Padraig stood and met the cleric with a smile. “Ah, good afternoon. I’m Ernest Padraig, greetings and welcome to Winterhaven! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He poured a glass of water and placed it before Gloraen. “Well may I just say it’s a lovely town here, my lord. I come to you today to amend a wrong that’s been committed by a friend of mine. My adventuring party were traveling into town earlier today, guarding a carriage…” “I’m sorry, did you say ‘guarding?’ Are you not visiting dignitaries?” “Uh… no.” Padraig slumped in his seat, visibly disappointed. Gloraen, seeing he was losing his audience, quickly rushed to regain ground. “We are, however, an adventuring party. We’re just moonlighting as guards. Anyway, we were traveling into town and we were attacked by a band of kobolds, who set fire to…” He told his story and Padraig listened. Finally, Padraig took a breath and spoke. “You’re not the first group of travelers to be menaced by the kobolds that have turned the old King’s Road and our outlying farms into their personal hunting grounds. These beasts… they vex me. Sorely.” He stood and strolled slowly to a window looking out onto the street. “The villagers, however, refuse to recognize the seriousness of the problem; they won’t allow me to form a group to go out and exterminate them. Attacks along the road have grown more frequent over the past few months. Something’s stirring the kobolds up.” He paused for a moment, then turned and sat back down. “Perhaps we can help each other out.” Gloraen nodded happily. “What can we do to help Winterhaven?” “If you and your group agree to go out and rid us of the kobold nuisance, I will secure the release of your friend the dragonborn, and on proof of exterminating the menace, will render to you a payment. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much, though.” “Whatever Winterhaven can pay will serve, my lord.” Gloraen hoped for fifteen gold. That would book passage for the group back home, if they wanted, or at least help them to hold out for the time being. It would certainly make up for the last week of misery in dealing with Berak. Twenty gold pieces would be fantastic. “How does one hundred gold pieces sound?” Gloraen coughed, sipped his water and said “We accept.” [CENTER]__________ Next time Gone Hunting[/CENTER] [/QUOTE]
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