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[IC] The Odd Job


OOC: The Cast
Faindil Drow Undying Light Warlock [MENTION=6855130]Jago[/MENTION]
Aloysius Human Revenant Wizarard [MENTION=6788652]The Grassy Gnoll[/MENTION]
Hrgach Hobgoblin Eldritch Knight [MENTION=6801311]KahlessNestor[/MENTION]
Asha Fallen Aasimar Shadow Sorcerer [MENTION=6803188]VLAD the Destroyer[/MENTION]

"Rent due, wife ill, can't afford your protection money? Have I got an offer for you!" The merchant barked as he stood up from his table, the dim light in the bar catching on the gold chain round his neck, as his velvet cloak began to settle around the stool. There is a hubbub around the tavern. The merchant clears his throat "100gold apice to anyone who signs on to guard my caravan through a secret path through the forest worst thing you will encounter is a wolf! Swear it on me mas grave" The merchant smiles a big "toothy" grin except he is missing at least 80% of his teeth and the ones he does have appear to be gold. A hubbub begins in the tavern as everyone begins to discuss the proposal. Looking smug with him self the merchant heads upstairs presumably to his room. Then he appeared out of the shadows created in an alcove, its amazing how you didn't notice him earlier the biggest orc you have ever possibly seen he is atleast 8ft tall possibly taller you see his eyes then look down at the stout oak table, covered in years of ale, food and blood, he strides through the room before snatching a mug of ale of an occupied table the elf sat at the table pretends not to notice and busies him self with his cape. The orc downs it in one before crushing the tankard in his hands as the two iron rings plink and roll to the ground he climbs the stairs to the upper floor.

It would appear you aren't the only one who didn't notice the mountain of an orc the topic of conversation swiftly turns to why the hell does he need a group of guards for his caravan when he has that hulking thing. one young lad saunters upstairs after them he must be about 14 clearly emboldened by the promise of gold. The noise is dying down now to the usual tavern noise the barmaid steps out from behind the bar and heads over to where the wooden shards and the two iron rings "If i ever see that oversized buffoon again ill ram these splinters in his eyes and use these rings to pull his balls off!" she barks this causes some sniggering from the occupants of the tavern, right until Keria shoots them a glance that would of made even a dragon back down "Your night is over you smug little worms and don't even think about finishing that". A table of old men look at each other and shake there heads clearly they know better than to catch the old crones attention.
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In a dark corner of the room, furthest from the fire, sits a lone figure huddled forward over the table, playing a hand of the single player card game known as Empty the Basket.

Swathed in a dark blue hooded cloak that would have been fine once, but now is stained, torn, and mud-streaked, it is hard to make the face out, but occasionally a gleaming eye can be seen as it takes in the comings and goings of the inn. The commotion with the merchant and the Orc seems to have piqued its interest and the head rises, the figure leaning further back on its stool. The light from the tallow candles on the walls illuminates a grey and somewhat sickly face, with piercing blue eyes set within yellowed eyeballs and a slight red tint to the sockets. The skin appears somewhat waxy, and there is no mistaking the black moustache sprouting on the top lip, curving immaculately into a double curl.

The cards are very neatly swept together and placed into a small rectangular wooden box of a classic design that is on the table, its hinged lid swinging closed.

The figure rises, clutching a long-strapped leather satchel which he slips over a shoulder and across his body. The card box is scooped up and placed inside the satchel. The bearing is erect and proud, and as he makes his way to the stairs to follow the Orc and the boy, rather graceful. A short haired white cat which had been curled up in the 'tent' made by the cloak and the stool legs trots after him, tail held high. Only a very close examination would see the red tinge to the cat's blue eyes.

The man's boots and clothes are of the same quality as the cloak worn over them, but likewise ragged at the edges and travel worn. On his right pinky finger there is a dull gleam of gold and blue on a signet ring. If the viewer could zoom in on it, they would see a small letter v sat underneath the crossbar of a larger capital H, it's outer edges touching the intersections of crossbar and verticals, all in black on an azure oval.

OOC: for moustache think classic Victorian circus strongman style
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~ By contrast, the blue-skinned elf was as close to the fire as possible, gently stoking the heat with an iron poker to coax the embers to keep their heat. His silvery hair turned gold within the light of the flames, making his pale eyes seem to take on the flickers of the fire's tips. With a small smile, the priest clutched at the golden wings he wore about his neck and whispered a tiny prayer to his Goddess, for his hopes had been answered.

The Drow shifted a bit, still becoming accustomed to the robes he wore; they were heavier than the vestments he donned as an acolyte, the weight of kindness resting upon his shoulders. The weight of a village's worth of lives. Faindil knew that no matter what, his fate was to follow that merchant and take up the offer for coin. Kalethee had given him the power to accomplish great deeds, and this would be the first.

With staff in hand, the priest made to the staircase as well, tucking his longer hair into the back of his scarlet robes. Faindil bore the golden phoenix of Kalethee, Goddess of Mercy and Charity, outside of his garments, letting all who saw the symbol know that despite his appearance, this was an Elf here to help. ~

A group of young men flock around a striking raven haired woman. The men fawn over her laughing as she speaks, buying her drinks or treats as they can. All in all making fools of themselves. She seems disinterested in their attention flirting almost unconsciously, just enough to get whatever drinks or food she wants. She is dressed in fine clothes in dark shades of blue and black. As the merchant speaks his offer she nods. She was down to her last few gold and had probably spent to long in this town. The job had potential.

She watched the first couple of people follow the merchant and orc. She finishes her drink and says her apologies to the men fawning over her and stands. She gathers her pack and follows the others.


Kerzoth/Ivanhoe/Imperial’s Rest Inn
Round 0

The large figure sat in the darkened corner to avoid drawing too much attention to himself. He spun his last gold piece around on the table as he studied the configuration of pieces on the dragonchess board in front of him. He moved a couple pieces around, solving the problem, and then looked up in annoyance as some merchant’s bellow filled the cavern. Well, a hundred gold was quite a lot for a caravan job, sitting around doing nothing for most of the trip. And he did need the money.

Snatching up his coin, the figure swept the finely carved wooden pieces into a leather bag and folded up the board, slipping it into the bag as well. He secured the bag in his pack and then stood up, taking up the large greatsword that leaned against the wall next to him.

The light of the tavern finally illuminated him, revealing the tall hobgoblin in bloody crimson and black chainmail. He slid a flail into a loop on his belt next to his dagger and hiked a pack over his shoulder. His dark gaze swept over the tavern crowd as he picked up the black helm on the table. Pushed up on the helm was a crimson war mask of demonically grinning visage, designed to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies.

Hrgach moved heavily across the tavern floor, encountering a strange, dark-skinned elf at the bottom of the stares. He gave the creature a warning glare before starting up.

AC: 17 (chainmail, defensive fighting style)
HP: 13/13 Vitality: 17/17 HD: 1/1d10



Heading up the staircase in single file the strangest assortment of creatures ventures up the stairs. A treacherous elf that lurks underground, a hobgoblin bandit, a vagabond trying to look like a noble man and possibly the most beautiful girl in the world.

As the ragtag bunch reaches the top of the stairs the young lad from earlier is exiting a room, his face is the most strange mixture of joy and fear, possibly the way a pig would look when it realizes that its banquets are all for the sake of fattening it up. The boy freezes when he sees the group of travelers at the top of the stairs, after a brief second he heads for the stairs very carefull not to bump into anyone or attract their gaze.

The inside of the room is small with only a small bed with a plain cotton sheet and a small desk and chair which the merchant is occupying. The imposing Orc fills up what little free space there is leaning on the head of his great axe clearly bord. "Oh ho I was beginning to think no one else would come. The names Gheedon. What do you think? he turns to address the Orc who steps over to where you are all assembled looking you all up and down before circling you much like a shark. He stops at you all one by one and lowers himself so your eyes meet his, he then inhales deeply as if trying to sniff out your soul through your skin before moving on to the next. When Aloysius turn comes around he gives an extra sniff and furrows his brow and moves on. After finishing the inspection the Orc heads back to his position in the corner waving his arm in dismissal of the group, halfway there he stops for a moment and heads back to Hrgach, stares at him again before raising the scarred Ham shank that is his hand and shoves the Hobgoblin with just enough force to slightly unbalance him to the point he needs to relocate a foot for support. The Orc then stands there as if waiting for a response.
OOC: having real issues with tapatalk and dm world atm had this thread vanish from my feed, not getting any notifications or emails to alert me to posts so if I vanish for more than 24hours try dropping me a pm


Kerzoth/Ivanhoe/Imperial’s Rest Inn
Round 0

Hrgach shifted back onto his foot as the orc shoved him with the the shank bone.

“You get that one for free,” the hobgoblin said, meeting the orc’s steady gaze, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger in warning.

Then his gaze went to the merchant. “You wanted caravan escorts. I don’t see any other takers. You’re paying good money and we’re interested. Are you wasting our time or not?”

AC: 17 (chainmail, defensive fighting style)
HP: 13/13 Vitality: 17/17 HD: 1/1d10



The Orc smiles at you before patting you on the shoulder and heading back to his corner of the room. You get the feeling this was a test and you passed it.

"I don't intended to waste anyone's time, times is money friend. I have some business left to attend to in town. The caravan leaves in two days you will be paid upon arrival at our destination". He state's flatly.
He turns to the Orc "I grow bord find me something young and beautiful Graan." The merchant says as he tosses a sack towards the orc.


~ The Drow was content to let the larger, red-skinned man ascend the stairs before him. No need to start a fight between possible coworkers, and the mailed warrior looked formidable: certainly someone Faindil wanted on his side. After filing into the room and seeing the small altercation between Hob and Orc, the Elf breathed a sigh of relief: the small example of restraint assured him that, though gruff, hopefully the Hobgoblin would not be running off to the slaughter on such a guard job.

Leaning slightly upon his staff, the Elf regarded his new companions: the warrior, the radiant woman in the dark clothes, the ... no, he was human. He looked human, at least, but something felt ... off. Not sure what. Regardless, Faindil resolved himself to look over them: Magran's Rest was counting on him, even if they did not know it. His pale eyes centered on their employer when he spoke, the shorter Elf's voice filled with a fire that seemed misplaced.

" Where, then, is our destination? You mentioned a secret path; how long from this town will we be once we reach it?" ~

[sblock=Faindil's Stats]Character Sheet
Undying Light Warlock, Level 1

HP: 9/9
Condition: Normal
Initiative: +3
Perception: +1
Darkvision: 60 feet
In Hand: Quarterstaff

[sblock=Defenses]AC: 14
[sblock=Offenses]Sacred Flame: DC 13 Dex Save 1d8+3 Radiant
Dagger: +5 1d4+3 P
Quarterstaff (2-Hands): +3 1d8+1 B
Light Crossbow: +5 1d8+3 P[/sblock]
[sblock=Proficient Skills]History: +2
Insight: +3
Persuasion: +5
Religion: +2[/sblock]
[sblock=Spells]Cantrips: Unlimited
Dancing Lights
Sacred Flame
Mage Hand

Level 1: 1/Short Rest
Burning Hands
Hellish Rebuke[/sblock]

[sblock=Adventure Notes]Transactions:
Total Coin: 15 GP

Game Info:

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