Misfits of the Sharn Watch on D&D Next

slobster

Visitor
Sharn, the City of Towers. Once the pride of Galifar, the very word is still a synonym for excitement, opportunity, and high culture throughout the continent. The streets are paved with silver and the parties never stop, or so the stories go.

Maybe it's true, at least for the upper city. But as rarefied as the air is high in the clouds, it's always a lot easier to fall to the ground than it is to fly in the sky. When people fall, they end up here, in Sharn's Undercity. And life in the shadow of Sharn's towers isn't much like any of the stories.

It's oh-dark-thirty in the obscenely early morning as you make your way through the Spice Quarter. You'd blame the hour for the lack of light and the fog so thick you could chew on it, but the truth is that the towers block the sun and it's always dark and wet down here. As nice as the “Spice Quarter” sounds, it doesn't look or smell any different from most of the Undercity. That is to say, it looks and smells like $#!t. You can hear the sounds of jeering voices carrying from one or two streets over, likely some kind of riot, or a party that got out of hand.

For a moment you steel yourself to rush over, see what the disturbance is. You are on duty after all, ungodly hour notwithstanding. Then you force yourself to relax, and purposely stride along your original path without glancing up. You have a special mission today. No distractions. Besides, the Undercity doesn't work like Above. Unless property owned by someone with “clout” is threatened by one of these disturbances, the Watch tends to let them burn themselves out. No point in getting your face bashed in for the sake of an ungrateful wretch and his sad pile of cheap boards and flimsy wares, is there?

You can still hear the shouting when you reach your destination, a rickety-looking apartment building where the rendezvous for this mission is to take place. A figure straightens as you approach, and his hand twitches towards a truncheon hanging at his side. Then he sees your face and relaxes. You recognize him, too, a guardsman called Derbie. He grins a lopsided hobgoblin grin at you and takes a swig out of a tin flask. He's carefully dressed in civilian clothes, so as to keep a low profile, or so you assume. Apparently he doesn't own a warm coat, so he's wrapped in about a dozen tattered scarves and is either wearing armor under his threadbare sweater or, more likely to your mind, he is wearing every shirt he owns, one on top of the other. It makes him look like a heavyset goblin boy with a head too small for his body. It might even be decent as a disguise, except that he's also wearing his thick Sharn Watch boots, a dead giveaway for anyone with eyes and two thoughts to rub together.

Afternoon, mate, he says with that same ugly grin. Beautiful day, innit? He laughs at his own words and takes another pull at the flask. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and continues. Boss is upstairs, third floor, first door on your right. But, ahh, he's a little bit off his head this morning. Grumpy, yeah? He's yelled at me three times for tracking in offal from the street into his 'office'. Derbie rolls his eyes at that last word to show how seriously he takes his superior officer. I'd clean my boots before I went in there, unless you want a scolding to get your blood up for your mission. He grins again and gives a meaningful look to your feet, covered in filth and grime from your trek through the historical Spice Quarter's back alleys.

While you take a moment to clean them off, another figure comes lurching from the mist. Derbie notices in the middle of taking a drink from the flask, and swallows some down the wrong pipe in his haste to put it away and react to the newcomer. He quickly breaks down into a fit of snarls, coughs, and curses as he tries to regain his breath, and as whatever noxious hootch he was drinking begins eating its way into his windpipe. You recognize the newcomer as another member of this mission, and behind him appears a third member of the team.
[sblock=first post, first serve]
Whoever posts first had this conversation with Derbie, and other characters can join in on the RP as you post. There isn't too much to accomplish here at the entrance to the building, but I thought it would be nice to be able to introduce yourselves to each other before the exposition begins. You guys can move upstairs whenever you'd like, but remember to wipe your shoes!

Choose a color for your “in-character” speech, and use it to separate your character's actual speech from your narration and other out-of-character text. I prefer the IC thread to be mostly light on the narration, with actual spoken text taking up most of your post (out of combat, anyway), but the first few posts where you describe your character and establish yourself in the game are exceptions.

If you are planning on joining the game but haven't posted a character sheet yet, don't let that stop you from joining in on the RP! The game statistics aren't needed in a little conversation, so all you need is your character concept and I'm glad to have you. I'll give you fair warning before any combat starts, don't worry.

OOC Thread
Campaign Page
[/sblock]
 
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tuxgeo

Visitor
Sharn, the City of Towers. < snip . . . >

It's oh-dark-thirty in the obscenely early morning as you make your way through the Spice Quarter.
< snip . . . >
You can still hear the shouting when you reach your destination, a rickety-looking apartment building where the rendezvous for this mission is to take place. A figure straightens as you approach, < snip . . . >
Afternoon, mate, he says with that same ugly grin. Beautiful day, innit? He laughs at his own words and takes another pull at the flask. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and continues. Boss is upstairs, third floor, first door on your right. But, ahh, he's a little bit off his head this morning. Grumpy, yeah? He's yelled at me three times for tracking in offal from the street into his 'office'. Derbie rolls his eyes at that last word to show how seriously he takes his superior officer. I'd clean my boots before I went in there, unless you want a scolding to get your blood up for your mission. He grins again and gives a meaningful look to your feet, covered in filth and grime from your trek through the historical Spice Quarter's back alleys.

While you take a moment to clean them off, another figure comes lurching from the mist. Derbie notices in the middle of taking a drink from the flask, and swallows some down the wrong pipe in his haste to put it away and react to the newcomer. He quickly breaks down into a fit of snarls, coughs, and curses as he tries to regain his breath, and as whatever noxious hootch he was drinking begins eating its way into his windpipe. You recognize the newcomer as another member of this mission, and behind him appears a third member of the team.
"g-DAFT-ernoon to yerse'f, Derbie, ya' Dint" Ortley jokes in kind. "Thanks for the warnin' 'bout the boots -- glor-blame-'em all, anyways." The halfling then scowls at his footgear and laments, "I'ld love ta' be rid of 'em, but it makes me look the part, ya' know? I'll brush 'em off on the way up, thanks again fer tha' warnin.' Third floor, first right, ya' say? Got it."

Having said all that, Ortley also sees the others approaching, and waits for their arrival before heading upstairs.

EDIT: And, of course, this all being new to Ortley: Spells prepared this morning: Burning Hands, Shield, Sleep (1 each). [Better to announce this ahead of time than to forget later, and have to amend.]
 
Last edited:

fermuch

Visitor
Sharn, the City of Towers. Once the pride of Galifar, the very word is still a synonym for excitement, opportunity, and high culture throughout the continent. The streets are paved with silver and the parties never stop, or so the stories go.

Maybe it's true, at least for the upper city. But as rarefied as the air is high in the clouds, it's always a lot easier to fall to the ground than it is to fly in the sky. When people fall, they end up here, in Sharn's Undercity. And life in the shadow of Sharn's towers isn't much like any of the stories.

It's oh-dark-thirty in the obscenely early morning as you make your way through the Spice Quarter. You'd blame the hour for the lack of light and the fog so thick you could chew on it, but the truth is that the towers block the sun and it's always dark and wet down here. As nice as the “Spice Quarter” sounds, it doesn't look or smell any different from most of the Undercity. That is to say, it looks and smells like $#!t. You can hear the sounds of jeering voices carrying from one or two streets over, likely some kind of riot, or a party that got out of hand.

For a moment you steel yourself to rush over, see what the disturbance is. You are on duty after all, ungodly hour notwithstanding. Then you force yourself to relax, and purposely stride along your original path without glancing up. You have a special mission today. No distractions. Besides, the Undercity doesn't work like Above. Unless property owned by someone with “clout” is threatened by one of these disturbances, the Watch tends to let them burn themselves out. No point in getting your face bashed in for the sake of an ungrateful wretch and his sad pile of cheap boards and flimsy wares, is there?

You can still hear the shouting when you reach your destination, a rickety-looking apartment building where the rendezvous for this mission is to take place. A figure straightens as you approach, and his hand twitches towards a truncheon hanging at his side. Then he sees your face and relaxes. You recognize him, too, a guardsman called Derbie. He grins a lopsided hobgoblin grin at you and takes a swig out of a tin flask. He's carefully dressed in civilian clothes, so as to keep a low profile, or so you assume. Apparently he doesn't own a warm coat, so he's wrapped in about a dozen tattered scarves and is either wearing armor under his threadbare sweater or, more likely to your mind, he is wearing every shirt he owns, one on top of the other. It makes him look like a heavyset goblin boy with a head too small for his body. It might even be decent as a disguise, except that he's also wearing his thick Sharn Watch boots, a dead giveaway for anyone with eyes and two thoughts to rub together.

Afternoon, mate, he says with that same ugly grin. Beautiful day, innit? He laughs at his own words and takes another pull at the flask. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and continues. Boss is upstairs, third floor, first door on your right. But, ahh, he's a little bit off his head this morning. Grumpy, yeah? He's yelled at me three times for tracking in offal from the street into his 'office'. Derbie rolls his eyes at that last word to show how seriously he takes his superior officer. I'd clean my boots before I went in there, unless you want a scolding to get your blood up for your mission. He grins again and gives a meaningful look to your feet, covered in filth and grime from your trek through the historical Spice Quarter's back alleys.

While you take a moment to clean them off, another figure comes lurching from the mist. Derbie notices in the middle of taking a drink from the flask, and swallows some down the wrong pipe in his haste to put it away and react to the newcomer. He quickly breaks down into a fit of snarls, coughs, and curses as he tries to regain his breath, and as whatever noxious hootch he was drinking begins eating its way into his windpipe. You recognize the newcomer as another member of this mission, and behind him appears a third member of the team.
[sblock=first post, first serve]
Whoever posts first had this conversation with Derbie, and other characters can join in on the RP as you post. There isn't too much to accomplish here at the entrance to the building, but I thought it would be nice to be able to introduce yourselves to each other before the exposition begins. You guys can move upstairs whenever you'd like, but remember to wipe your shoes!

Choose a color for your “in-character” speech, and use it to separate your character's actual speech from your narration and other out-of-character text. I prefer the IC thread to be mostly light on the narration, with actual spoken text taking up most of your post (out of combat, anyway), but the first few posts where you describe your character and establish yourself in the game are exceptions.

If you are planning on joining the game but haven't posted a character sheet yet, don't let that stop you from joining in on the RP! The game statistics aren't needed in a little conversation, so all you need is your character concept and I'm glad to have you. I'll give you fair warning before any combat starts, don't worry.

OOC Thread
Campaign Page
[/sblock]
Afternoon sir! How is your family!? why did I said that? (Marik says to himself) I'm sorry sir, but I think I'm a little nervious! I-I-I'll go with the boss then!
before going to the stairs, Marik starts watching his clothes Oh damn! I'm so dirty! I can't be like this with the boss! Marik starts cleaning himself a little. Will this be enough? ... Oh, it doesn't matters. I-I'll see you later, Derbie!
While Marik is going upstairs, he says to himself... you idiot! Why're you so shy? You're going to ruin it! He stops walking and sits in the stairs so he can relax a little...

OOC: I'm trying to make Marik a little shy, because I think this will be the right personality for him.
 

mcmillan

Explorer
Taelvosh rounds the corner and sees three figures standing near the doorway one trying to hide a flask. Before he can acknowledge any of them Marik rushes inside. Turning to the coughing hobgoblin No need to be that cautious around me. I'd hate to think we were the cause of you losing good drink down your lungs. He then looks at Ortley and says I don't believe we've met yet, my name is Taelvosh. He seems to about to add something else, but holds back while looking at the surrounding buildings. Shall we join our companion upstairs?
 

slobster

Visitor
Derbie waves his hand and shakes his head placatingly at Taelvosh while he leans over and catches his breath. Nae, don't worry about m-*cough*. About me. It's not any good drink I'm wasting! He lets out another hoarse chuckle and coughs again. Asides, I think master Marik could use this liquid cour-*cough* The liquid courage more than I could!

He smiles again and finally catches his breath, straightening a bit and staring suspiciously at the flask in his hand before shrugging and taking another swig.
 

tuxgeo

Visitor
Taelvosh rounds the corner and sees three figures standing near the doorway one trying to hide a flask. Before he can acknowledge any of them Marik rushes inside. Turning to the coughing hobgoblin No need to be that cautious around me. I'd hate to think we were the cause of you losing good drink down your lungs. He then looks at Ortley and says I don't believe we've met yet, my name is Taelvosh. He seems to about to add something else, but holds back while looking at the surrounding buildings. Shall we join our companion upstairs?
"Right, Taelvosh; let's go. I'm Ortley Oldbrook; and I think I may have been down this partic'lar street oncet or twixt before-days. Best to go up out of it!" He wipes off his boots as best he can, waves casually at Derbie again, mutters "Cheers," and joins Taelvosh in entering the building in search of Marik.
 

slobster

Visitor
(For those entering the building)

The door leads into the back entrance of the apartment building, which isn't as decrepit as its outer appearance would suggest. The cramped space you find yourself in contains a staircase leading up, carpeted in cheap fabric whose original color is likely not the off-gray that it now shows, as well as a staircase down, which is devoid of any carpeting at all. About 10 feet ahead, an open doorway leads further into the building, but your objective is up.

The walls are unadorned but evenly covered in some kind of wallpaper, which isn't even peeling at any of the edges. The heatless light of a single, greenish everburning lamp gives your skin a a strange cast, but also makes you feel more comfortable than you did in the dim fog outside.

No other Sharn Watchmen are present, but you catch the eyes of the other members of the task force who have entered the building already.
 

tuxgeo

Visitor
(For those entering the building)

The door leads into the back entrance of the apartment building, which isn't as decrepit as its outer appearance would suggest. The cramped space you find yourself in contains a staircase leading up, carpeted in cheap fabric whose original color is likely not the off-gray that it now shows, as well as a staircase down, which is devoid of any carpeting at all. About 10 feet ahead, an open doorway leads further into the building, but your objective is up.

The walls are unadorned but evenly covered in some kind of wallpaper, which isn't even peeling at any of the edges. The heatless light of a single, greenish everburning lamp gives your skin a strange cast, but also makes you feel more comfortable than you did in the dim fog outside.

No other Sharn Watchmen are present, but you catch the eyes of the other members of the task force who have entered the building already.
Having already scraped off his boots on the way in, Ortley nods to the members of the task force who are there and says, "I'm Ortley, this is Taelvosh. There was at least one more of us arrived, and maybe one or two more coming in a bit." He glances at Taelvosh for confirmation, then continues: "Did you guys see a human Watchman go through here a bit ago?"

OOC: Trying to keep this thread from falling off the face of the 1st page.
 

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