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D&D 5E Ironfang Invasion (IC)


Phaendar’s Market Festival draws a crowd from all over Nirmathas, many solely to hear Aubrin the Green, the retired Chernasardo Ranger-turned-Caydenite cleric, recount bawdy tales of adventure from her youth. Outside, the celebration continues, as raucous shouts carry on the night air. Warmed by the firelight after a long day, any levity comes as a welcome reward to the rough, earthy souls of this riverside trade town.

As the crowd settles in at the Taproot Inn, Aubrin continues to tell a tale.

“So there I am, thinking, when will I ever be able to talk to a bear again? So before the grizzly can stand back up, I turn to it and say, ‘All I need is the honey. You can keep the bees!’” The room erupts into laughter as Aubrin finishers her winding story and takes another draught from her tankard. “But it’s fine now. All’s good. She named a cub after me. Someday I’m going to have to check in on little Ow Oh Gods That’s Too Many Bees.”

GM: As Aubrin goes to refill her tankard, several other people take center stage to share their stories of adventure. Feel free to share your stories with the whole bar, or talk to each other at the bar, or any of the tables. The main room of the bar is 30x35 with four round tables and a 15ft long bar on the right wall.

Ironfang Invasion OOC http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?540832-Ironfang-Invasion-5E-conversion-(OOC)

Rogues' Gallery http://www.enworld.org/forum/showth...Invasion-Rogues-Gallery&p=7086655#post7086655
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First Post
Raux snorts a little at the bear tale and grabs another swig of whiskey from his flask. He sits quietly and listens to the other tales, figuring others have better stories and are better story tellers. He scans the crowd frequently watching hands and eyes, an old habit from too many armed camps of mixed companies.

Perception check: 1d20+4 15
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Charwoman Gene

A large woman stands up, saying "Okay, I got one for you..." She is dressed in the habit of a Sister of Paladine. Her eyes are bright above her rosy cheeks as she relates a tale of pulling a dozen wounded soldiers out of battle, over a river, under fire from a dragon, during a blizzard. She comes across a little to hesitant, stumbling over some of the details. She finishes her tale, there is a little bit of polite laughter and clapping, then she sits back down.



First Post
Corsa laughs and applauds as Aubrin finishes her tale, genuinely surprised to be amused. She hadn't expected much in the way of entertainment in this backwater speck of a town. She applauds the Sister's tale as well, approving of the bravery of anyone willing to follow an act like Aubrin's. Tempted as she was to stand up and tell a sordid tale of her own, that would defeat the whole point of being here: laying low.

Instead, she heads to the bar to get fresh drinks for herself and her elven travelling companion, not bothering to look for marks. There wasn't going to be anyone in this place worth robbing.

When she gets back to their table, she hands Vin his ale and then raises her own in his direction. "To your health, Vin. A man of the people if ever I've met one. Which I definitely haven't," she adds with a laugh. She takes a sip of her ale and eyes him with the slightest of grins. "You should tell a tale, you know. Maybe something to do with magic? I'd tell my own, but they'd be deadly dull in comparison."

OOC: If this post assumes more knowledge of Vin's story than he would've shared, let me know and I'll edit it. :)
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The room is happy, if not more than a little drunk. Sister Grace’s story is met with polite clapping. The room then falls fairly quiet. The bar and many tables still have loud talks of tall tales.

GM: Raux everything sounds as you would expect the bar of an inn to sound on the first night of a 2 day festival. Almost everyone is drinking and many excited voices are heard both in the inn and on the streets.
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the magical equivalent to the number zero
Over at the bar, a dwarf sits by himself, listening to the stories and applauding any who dare take the stage.

As Sister Grace tells about pulling wounded soldiers from battle, he becomes very quiet. After a few seconds, tiny transparent drops of water seem to appear around the dwarf, although when they fall upon any surface, it does not get wet.

Upon noticing this effect, the dwarf snaps his fingers in an annoyed fashion, and the drops dissappear.

He claps a little louder than the other spectators after the Sister's tale, and raises his ale in salute.

OOC: Prestidigitation for the magical tears.


Dusty Dragon
Lal sat at a table, his back to the wall and his pack besides him, eating a bowl of mutton stew with a smile - such simple, hearty fare. The beer here was, he had to admit, much better than home, although he dearly missed palm wine. The few coins the pilgrims had paid him would suffice for the next few meals. After that... well we would see, the Universe would guide his steps.

Lal's smile faded a bit when the Sister told her tale, and he glanced worriedly at Harb sitting besides him. He knew that Harb was troubled from past battle experiences. Lal was thankful that all his fights had been "clean" - nasty skirmishes yes, but against brigands or worse, his conscience was clear. He hoped it remained this way.

The sister's tale over, he clapped with the others and then turned to Harb: "try some of this beer, it is quite good".

River Song

Vin grinned at Corsa, "The stories and songs I know are a little rude and require a lot more drink before I can relay them." he laughs and swirls his nearly empty drink.

"What the hell," he laughs. "They can laugh with me or at me, as long as they are laughing who cares?!!"

He delivers a raunchy story about the half-orc barmaid and the drunken dwarven warrior.


OOC: : oops should have been -2 so 18 total.


First Post
OOC: Nat 20, niiice!

Corsa is practically howling by the time Vin finishes his tale, and she cheers raucously with the rest of the room when he finishes.

When he gets back to the table, she's regained her composure enough to give him a faux-scandalized look. "Vin, that was not the sort of tale I was expecting from a highborn elf...it was much better," she says, breaking into laughter again.


the magical equivalent to the number zero
Flint really wanted to dislike the elf's tale about drunken dwarves and eager half-orc women, but he found he just couldn't. It was just so... fun!

The dwarf applauds loudly, then without thinking shouts across the room, "Hey bartender, this drunken dwarf wants to buy the elf a drink!"

Despite his claim, Flint walks towards the table where Vin and Corsa are seated in a perfectly straight line and winks at the elf. "Fancy a beer, pointy-ear?"

River Song

"Well it looks like I'm empty," Vin nudges his empty tankard forwards. "Grab a seat friend, my name is Vin and this slice of heaven is Corsa."


the magical equivalent to the number zero
"Ma'am," Flint acknowledges Corsa but quickly returns his attention to the elf.

"Thank you, Vin. My name is Flint Stronginthearm, formerly from Kraggodan. A pleasure."

After glancing back at the bar to check whether his order was received, the dwarf takes a seat next to Vin and continues, "I have never met an elf before. Not up close, anyway."

Another wink, followed by a broad grin from the not-completely-sober dwarf. Some drops of ale linger in his otherwise well-groomed beard, and the dwarf is a little closer to the eladrin than is comfortable. The faintest whiff of perfume can be detected around him.

"So where are you two from?"


Harb Half-Elf Paladin

Harb enjoys the stories for the most part. Exaggerated stories were he fondest memories.

After the Sisters story, at Lals instruction, hestares into the tankard he has been nursing as he swirls the brown liquid around, lost in thought. Each wave of liquid swirling around in the cup seeming to wash away the face he sees in it only to replace it with another. He takes a sip, sets the tankard down and takes a deep breath. He looks to Lal and nods. "I do like the darker ales. More flavor than the light ones I say." He forces a smile and looks to the center of the room for the next story hoping it's more jovial.

Thankful for the laugh the story about the Dwarf and the barmaid gives him he smiles genuinely and leans towards Lal slightly to be heard over the crowd. He was thankful for this strangers company and genuinely liked him.

"One of the camps I was in, there was a horribly ugly camp follower. A drunken pikeman refused her first advance. Saying that she were far to ugly for the price she was asking. She told him she was only asking so much because the gold would need to make it worth her time, because she was sure his performance wouldn't"

Harb told his story to the table but had no interest in being the center of attention, Watching Flint's performance as he approaches the latest storytellers table he then scanned the room, his mood bright, seeming to feed off the lighthearted atmosphere.

A battle raging inside him. He longed for the days when relaxing wasn't so much work.


First Post
Hearing the old camp tale, Raux couldn't help but add, "Yeah but the way I heard it, he proved her so wrong, she gave the money back!" Raux nods to the half-elf and lifts his flask, and with a wink adds, "'Course, it was one of my old sergeants that told me that tale and he insisted that he was the pikeman, so I doubt it's any truer than a blind bowman's aim." With that Raux took a moment to size up the paladin and then settled back into his seat nearby and into the sights and sounds of the festival around him.

River Song

"Oh from here and there. Nothing I really called home." he offers evasively. "However, drifting around aimlessly leads to a light purse. Are you a local? Do you know of any work in the area?


First Post
Corsa grins at Vin's introduction of her and nods in greeting to Flint, but she doesn't bother to answer the dwarf's question. She doubts he'd even hear her if she spoke, and really, who could blame him?


After several crowd members share their own boasts and jokes, the room quiets down eventually someone tops off Aubrin’s tankard and pushes her back into the center of the room.

“All right, all right! Don’t shove,” she slurs a bit. “Okay Cayden strike me down if this isn’t true—“
The front door explodes into flinders. A cry of agony pierces the chaos. Aubrin lies on the floor, gasping and clutching at the blood gushing from a wound in her chest. A ballista bolt still quivers in the wall behind her.

Three hobgoblins in military dress stand beyond the shattered door, blades drawn. Behind them, lit by the glow of burning homes, dozen—perhaps, hundreds of hobgoblin soldiers march the street. Phaendar burns, shouts of celebration now replaced by the panicked screams of the frightened and dying. Behind them, above the flames and humble rooftops, rises a tower of black stone.

The largest of the three hobgoblins stepped forward, “Throw down your weapons and submit to be bound. Do that now, and you may live through the night!”

The Hobgoblins get a surprise round which they use to attempt to intimidate those present.
Please roll initiative; we will be doing group initiative. So we will average the rolls for each side and then each side will go.
Hobgoblin initiative average =12
Hobgoblin: 1D20+2 = [5]+2 = 7

[URL="http://roll.coyotecode.net/lookup.php?rollid=161303"]_: 1D20+2 = [4]+2 = 6

_: 1D20+2 = [20]+2 = 22

The room is 35 feet by 30 feet
The bar is on the NE wall and is five feet deep and twenty feet wide. Stairs take up 15 feet on the southern wall, (5ft wide) starting on the SE corner.
The Hobgoblins burst in the door and are standing in three squares starting in the SW corner and stretching alongst the wall until they hit the bottom of the stairs.
Aubrin is laying 10ft from the SE most hobgoblin towards the bar. There is an NPC behind the bar one, at the bar and one in the NW corner of the room.

Map for clarity 06/01 is NPC Elf, 05/04 is NPC human, 05/05 is NPC Human Bartender
06/01 is Sister Grace
06/o4 is Harb
05/03 is Corsa
04/02 is Vin
04/04 is Flint
02/05 is Lal
01/04 is Raux
02/02 is Aubrin



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