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ShortQuests -- Pocket Sized Adventures! An all-new collection of digest-sized D&D adventures designed for 1-2 game sessions.

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Telperion" data-source="post: 1352771" data-attributes="member: 15711">And just a few more...Daniel Far-Cast, CN, Fighter 10 / Duelist 3In his youth this man was an actor of sorts. He stood upon ropes and seemed to walk trough empty air. He ate fiery objects and farted black clouds of foul smelling smoke. He climbed ropes into nothing and returned with a prince’s ransom. Daniel was full of pranks and jokes trough-out his youth. And the way he accomplish all this: trough sleight of hand and the assistance of his best friend Fred. Fred was the wizard with a few very good-looking spells and tricks up his sleeve. He had never really felt that he could fit in a proper magic academy so he had run away and joined with his childhood friend to put on a show that the world had never seen before.     The two youths had grown up together in a fairly good-sized town right next to the great port city of Rahoch. There were plenty of interesting things to see in a lively port city, but after a while the need to become something, and actually do something grew too great. There were more than enough opportunities to go to sea and maybe never return. They had both heard all manner of sailors’ stories concerning sailing and the wonders / dangers waiting out there on the open sea. After reviewing their skills and interests both had decided to remain as humble landlubbers with not a single good voyage under their belts. Not only did they want to have an adventure, they also wanted to call it their own. On a ship there was a captain who would claim all honor and glory for the crews performance, and as often as not blame them for any failures. So the pair of scoundrels took of on their own and became the Wondrous Duo: a traveling show.     Months went on and Daniel’s acrobatics, and slight understanding of things magical, added to Fred’s wizardly gifts and spells kept them in comfort. There were always curious or profit seeking innkeepers around who would give the pair food, lodging and a share of the evenings earnings if they put on their very best show, which they did with delight. Then on a late autumn day the pair approached a city unknown to them. They had passed the borders of the duchy they had both been born to. There was nothing but new lands and strange things to see from this point on. Although they had both traveled a bit as youngsters neither had crossed a duchy border. Now they had and there was a brand new city in sight! The place looked bigger than anything the two had seen along the way, so they assumed it was one of the major trading cities along the king’s road. The sign said Hotwell. The guards at the gates took a single look at the pair and then paid them no more notice. And so Fred and Daniel entered into the city that would change their lives. At first they searched for a proper looking inn. There were plenty just inside the city gates, but those really didn’t look good. Either they were run down or too fancy looking. With nothing to choose from in the middle the pair settled to walk deeper into the city. Certainly there would be inns for those who wanted a bit of comfort, but not at expense of being robbed either by the innkeeper or the local patrons. After something like an hour of walking around the two of them noticed a fairly brightly colored sign that proclaimed the establishment as The Rainbow Parrot. Fred took a tentative look inside and nodded encouragingly. This would be a very fine evening indeed. They entered, made their introductions and were given over to the care of a very pretty young made who showed where they could stow their gear and ready themselves for the evening’s performance. After filling their bellies with good food and sitting for a while among the crowd to get the feel for the place they began their show. When they finished their first set of performance the whole common room exploded in applauds, flying coins and cheers that made the whole room vibrate like a living thing. In that instant both of them knew that they had struck a gold mine, and would happily spend a very long time in this very inn. Fate, as it usually does, would intervene…Upon the 12th day of performance for an ever-growing crowd at the Rainbow Parrot a special kind of a guest came to watch their show. He was dressed in a snowy white robe covered in the hems with intricate symbols that caught and held Fred’s eyes from the moment the man came into the inn. Here was a master magician! A true magician who had come to watch their show! Concentrating furiously he performed some of the best variations and tricks that the two had practiced on for a good while now. Daniel picked up on the change of rhythm and mood of the magic that Fred was casting at him. There was a definite change of pace and purpose. This show was being served to someone special. A brief moment after the show had ended the white clad man came up to them and gave them an invitation to the castle sitting upon the hill above the city. They would be tested by a professional staff of servants and then judged on skill, etiquette and talent: should they prove worthy of quality audience they would never have to look for employment ever again. Thrilled at such a prospect both of them prepared for tomorrow. It would be a haranguing and tiring day, but one of success and challenge. They would be accepted among those who had the right to perform, someday, in front of nobility. For now they would be given secondary jobs as the entertainers for the rich merchants and craft masters who still required respect from their hosts. Time went on for the two youth and years passed with success and plenty of money being the main thing that kept the two rogues at the hall of a noble. Their performances were respected and sought after by various other people, but their master kept their pockets filled with gold and that was more than either of them could have hoped for. Somewhere along the line a change happened though. It most likely began with the visit of a minor noble that insisted on seeing these two perform their show. The manor also had another magician who was a capable illusionist, and also quite jealous of the two boys natural talents and growing skills. So, when it came time to perform in front of the minor noble, a thing that both young men dreaded a bit since it was their first actual performance for nobility, the senior illusionist of the host also made a point of being there. He only had to do one thing, and that was to cast a spell of confusion upon Fred, so that their performance would be ruined beyond recovery. As it happened Fred had had a talk with this illusionist some time back, and had let it slip that he also had a couple of nasty spells in store should someone try and rob him and his friend on the road. After all: illusions were all very fine things to amuse the crowds, but taking down a bandit required something more. Although the two magicians had never really compared each others spell books it was obvious that Fred always kept a couple of nasty spells stored away in case of an emergency. And this was exactly what the illusionist was counting on. With the stage set Fred began to mouth the first incantation that would bring a burst of silvery light into the stage, thus setting a nice tune for their up-coming performance, but something went horribly wrong. Instead of the intended spell he fired a classic Fireball-spell into the front rows of the audience! The explosion was deafening and the heat instantly flash-fried the visiting noble and some of his friends who were tagging along for the show. As the heat disappeared there was a great silence and then the visiting noble’s bodyguards broke from their stunned stance at the back of the theater room. In an instant Fred was lying dead on the stage, with crossbow bolts sticking out of his body. People were screaming and shouting. There was a horrible shout of anguish and anger as Daniel’s master rose from his seat and began to make his way towards the youth still standing in the shadows of the stage. Then the doors to the theater broke loose from their hinges as armed guards of the household stormed in and rushed to protect their lord. Naturally the deceased noble’s bodyguards were looking for new targets and interpreted this as a hostile action against them. Battle ensued. During the fighting Daniel managed to escape the manor and make his way to the nearby stables. From there he took a horse, his sword and ran for his life. In a sense he has been running ever since. After a bit of random wandering around he finally realized that his life was over, after a fashion. He had to abandon his name, and become Daniel Far-Cast. He took this name to hide, but where could he hide? The answer, in the end, was fairly simple. He knew sword fighting; he was very agile and quick, and could most likely out-maneuver most of his opponents. A mercenary’s life was chosen to him by the quirk of Faith. But from that point on he has always wondered what made Fred fire that Fireball? Somewhere in the future David hopes to return to that dreadful past that drove him to this life, and to find out what really happened. And once he has done that he may lay his friends soul to peace, but until that moment he will forever be haunted by that final moment when his friends chest filled with crossbow bolts. Cadyna Elethea, Lawful Evil, Monk 9 / Assassin 3.Cadyna was born to a noble house in the middle of Calastia’s largest web of intrigue. Her mother cared for her while father went to court every day. What he did there would remain a secret not shared with Cadyna for almost 2 decades. What he brought back to home was shared with care and love. There was really nothing wrong with Cadyna’s childhood. She lived a very sheltered life, and never took the time or effort to really see what was going on around her. There were the occasional lords or ladies of the court who paid their modest looking, yet very well furnished and kept, home a visit. They always staid for a good while and sometimes they even had a sweet or something nice to say to young Cadyna. These were days when everything was fine, and later when the world would change in the young woman’s eyes she would remember these days with a fond smile and little sigh. The reality was that Cadyna lived in a house where the money came from a very unusual profession. Cadyna’s father was an assassin. A rather expensive one at that and her mother was person who had a great deal of friends and contacts. Together they handled a good deal of business. Mother would scout out the target and gain all manner of secret and useful information. Then father would go and do what needed doing to finish the job. Thus they worked like a very finely crafted tool that had been perfected for a single purpose: efficient assassinations. It wasn’t until Cadyna’s 15th birthday that her mother eventually came to her and started telling her about things that their family was expected to do for the lords and ladies of this fine city. In exchange they lived in a fine house and had every comfort they wanted, within reason. After all in their profession it wasn’t suitable to draw too much attention to one’s home. At first Cadyna was shocked beyond understanding. Her father and mother were the kindest and warmest people in the world. How could they do murder after murder? How could they live with themselves? Couldn’t they see how they created a kind of a circle were one assassination always had to follow another. Cadyna was so devastated that she locked herself in her own room for several days and didn’t so much as look at the servants who came to clean, bring food and take away whatever needed to be changed. And she certainly didn’t acknowledge their presence when they came to look at her. She was in turmoil. The life she had always thought as product of intellectual exercises and good fortune was suddenly a pile of blood money. Money that had come from those who would give more to see their opponents killed. Soon the young lady came to such a state that there was nothing to it, but to send her away. Obviously she wanted nothing to do with her parents who were very worried about their daughter. So it was decided that she would go to a monastery and learn there. Maybe she could find a life in a place that wasn’t touched so much by reality as the parents saw it. Cadyna was relieved when she left home and came to a quiet and peaceful looking monastery. There she could forget the wrongs of the world and concentrate on doing some good instead. She was an adequate scribe already and could improve her skills until there would be a place for her among the librarians of the monastery. Then she could just drown herself among the books that would contain all she needed to know about the outside world. There she would find peace and harmony. Away from the chaos that life was. But the world wouldn’t forget her. There were some in the monastery who had to be told what was going on. And those spoke to other ears, and so on. Until on day that looked much the same as any other, from Cadyna’s point of view, a stranger came to visit her. She was a beautiful lady whom Cadyna had never met. She came and after being introduced they started discussing little things. Months went by and this lady came time and again. They talked, giggled, laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. At no point did Cadyna really feel that there was guile in this person, until the day when she came clothed in black, as mark of a sorrow. Her husband had died, and her sons with him. How did this happen, Cadyna asked? A play at the Court of Mirrors, and an assassin was the answer. For a long moment they both looked at each other and this was when Cadyna finally understood what it was that this lady had been doing: she had befriended the daughter of a minor noble. Then she had shed light upon the world as it truly was. And now she had brought reality crashing down upon her pretty little sanctuary, which had none of the problems of the world. Before her she saw an obvious choice to be made. Her parents had long lived within this society and used their skills to inflict terror and pain upon those that their masters chose for them. Gold was the only thing that really mattered to them, and the love of their daughter. But they had long ago lost their daughter, because they had thought that she would also take up the life of an assassin. But as they had schooled her they had never thought that ideals could grow in her young mind. And so she had become estranged to them as she finally saw them as they really were. And was the real reason for leaving home. Of course she had known them for what they were, but secretly inside her she had also marveled their skills as she sat in her room, not speaking, not eating more than a morsel and brooded upon things that she couldn’t change. And she had denied herself the chance of affecting her own life. In effect she had become a doll to be whisked away to safety when she no longer could stand the harsh light of day. But now she saw that not everyone needed to be the same way. Others did things for money, and others could do things trough ideology. Luckily for Cadyna she was still young and able to learn. She took up the skills that she had looked down upon when she arrived at the monastery. There were people here who sought an inner balance trough both physical and mental exercises. These she took up with a will. She would become a defender of those who had received the gift of life, and destroy those who had become corrupt and evil. As years went by Cadyna became adept at many forms of open-handed combat and also learned many mental exercises to control her very being. But what she still needed was the training of a true assassin. Because without it she would be next to useless in court, where only those of great ability could blend in as needed and do what they wanted once no one was watching. But she was at a loss as to where she could find a teacher. Her own parents she could never again face. They were beyond redemption, but there must be others who could teach her! And that is when the beautiful lady came to her once more, and she boldly asked if there was a higher authority who could use her developing martial skills? As a matter of fact there was: the king. And so Cadyna began to serve the king of Calastia. She learned a great deal from personal tutors who trained her in the art of assassination. For the last 3 years she has worked closely with the king to uncover those who would use their fortunes, power and station to further their own goals trough the misfortunes of others. The king has proven to be a just man who doesn’t fear to go into battle against those who would bring anarchy and murder to his courts. Cadyna believes him to be a good man in his heart, even though he needs to show a tyrants face to the outside world. And when the king called her to take care of a job of importance she responded quickly and left immediately to become a mercenary for a while. To the manor of the Count and Countess  Parthalan. Jacob Broken-Nose, NE, Barbarian 12.When Jacob was a young boy he was repeated beaten by his father. The old man didn’t have a pitying bone in his whole body, but he did possess a set of strong arms and an endless supply of lashes to whip the boy with. Jacob was by no means the only one who was subject to his fathers bouts of terror, but he was the youngest of 5 children in the family, and that meant he couldn’t keep up with the others and he couldn’t take a good whipping as well either. In other words childhood was pure horror, pain and darkness for Jacob. He didn’t feel like a human for most of the time spent tilling the lands. While his father wasn’t a rich man he did provide money food and the occasional comfort for his family. One might ask what happened to Jacob’s mother? Well, she died when Jacob was born, so that might also explain why his father got this pained look in his face whenever he saw Jacob. In order to avoid the lash and his father as much as possible, and still appear around dinnertime to claim his portion of whatever was on the table at the time, Jacob became adept at finding all sorts of hiding places on the farm he grew up in. Life was very harsh and it didn’t seem to be getting any better, so once Jacob reached the age of 12 he started making plans for himself that would create a better future. His single most defining point would obviously have to be the moment he finally stood up to his father, and maybe escaped with a trashing of life. Jacob felt the need to prepare himself for that moment, and so he began to look for a way to do that. There weren’t any mercenaries around to teach the boy how to fight, nor anyone else except his elder brothers, who were more than happy to give the little whelp a trashing if he asked for it. So he did just that: he became the worst little brother that the world had ever beheld and stuck with that role. After the first few beatings his older brothers started to notice that there was something different, or maybe even strange, about the way Jacob fought. It was with wild abandon, not really caring about himself, but just wanting to inflict the maximum amount of pain and damage on his opponent whenever possible. After they had trashed him up good he just got up and limped to an old oak. He would stand in front of the tree, swaying on his legs and trying not to fall, and then start hitting the trunk with bare hands. Those hands would soon start bleeding. His older brothers would have to go and stop, before he really hurt himself. This continued for about a year or so. After each beating Jacob would go to that old tree, where his bloody prints had created a dark patch that just wouldn’t go away. He would beat on that trunk until someone stopped him or he just fell over from exhaustion.     One day Jacob irritated his eldest brother, who was a very strong man. Jacob, a young man by now, brought up his fists and took to a fist-fighters stance. There was a moment’s hesitation before his eldest brother proceeded to beat the crap out of him, knowing that he would have to drag the half-wit away from that stupid old oak in a manner of moments. He decided he had had enough of Jacob’s attitude and swung a powerful uppercut that took the youth off his feet and knocked him out cold. There was a moment of worry. Had he struck Jacob too hard? Then the young man woke up, rubbed his jaw for a while and shook his head. It started raining. The older brother frowned in disgust and headed towards their house. That is when he heard footsteps from behind and found Jacob trudging along without another sound aside from his bare feet striking the softening muck that made up their front yard. The older brother stopped to clean up his feet before entering the house: that was one rule that everyone learned very quickly. Entering the house with filth dripping legs was cause for a drubbing. In spite of that fact Jacob simply walked straight into the house and found his father sitting beside the kitchen table eating with a wolfish hunger. Something snapped in Jacob: he did just as much work as the rest of the family, and yet when it came time to eat he was the one gathering the scraps and praying there was enough to at least stop him from starving to death. There usually was a bit, but not nearly enough. Now, seeing his father eating with out a care for his children broke something in his head. Suddenly the world became very clear and focused for Jacob. A bloody red haze lowered itself on him and he heard a low rumble start in his chest. It expanded and suddenly burst out as an animalistic sound. At this his father stopped eating and looked at his youngest son. The filthy snot had come into his house dragging half the dirt on the yard with him! He stood there quivering with anger and growling like an animal! Well, he would certainly fix that. He stood up and turned to fetch his lash. He never quite managed to make that first turn. Something very hard and powerful hit him in the ribcage and there was a great deal of pain. He staggered a couple of steps sideways and looked at his son. There was something very wrong with him. The lad had somehow crossed the space between them with amazing speed and struck a blow that would have made the old man himself proud. Now another blow came and this one took him in the jaw. And then the world became amazingly dark. Jacob took a few more swings and kicks at his father, just to make sure the surly old man wasn’t going to get up and hurt him no more. The old bastard seemed to be down for good thought, and so he finally started cooling down. He really didn’t know what had come over him, but it was something strange, terrifying and yet such a sweet rush of power that he wanted more. Yet, at that moment, he was having trouble staying on his feet because his whole body had suddenly become very leaden and heavy. Before he would fall of his legs he grabbed a little sack that he used to store his possessions. It really wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. He leaned over the table like a drunken man and swept all the food into sack as well. That is when he remembered his eldest brother and turned around. The room was empty! He could hear distant shouting from outside, though, so he assumed that his brother was getting the rest of the family together for one final “trash the little brother” party. Well, no more! Took a quarterstaff and his fathers lash, he had felt the heat of that thing more than often enough to have a fairly competent idea about how it should be handled, and ran out. That was the last time he ever saw the place he was born. Not that it really bothered him. To put a long story short he happened across a caravan and became the cook’s monkey. From there he worked his way up to a caravan guard and got his basic training as well. He never learned the finer points of using weapons or writing and reading for that matter. All that fancy stuff just never seemed that important, especially since he got a nice amount of gold, good ale, whores and a soft bed at the end of each caravan rout. Somewhere along the line he also got fed-up with this sort of life, although it wasn’t bad and began to improve himself. Doing that, he realized, wasn’t bad at all. All he had to do was make himself angry, and the rest came with ease. His reflexes, stamina, endurance and proficiency with axes of all kinds built along side his ability to call up his “inner strength” and to simply strike at his enemies until none remained. Never mind that the usually took several nasty cuts and hits himself, but that was what fighting meant to him: being able to take the hits and then give back better than he received. Somewhere along the line someone higher up along the chains of power heard of his talents and made a few remarks to the suitable ears. After a few more months he was offered a job that was somewhat different from his usual caravan duty or guards duty at some boring keep or castle. An assignment from a powerful lord who wanted his manor protected. Well, that was fine with Jacob, since the pay was a great deal better than anywhere else. So, he signed up for this dubious job. And that’s where the story begins…</blockquote>

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