Shackled City Adventure Path (Intro)

[Phyrrus]

A wretched drizzle falls from the ash-gray sky. The crowded, rain-slicked buildings seem especially bleak and frightful this evening, hunched together beneath the gloomy skies. A few lights burn in their windows, but mostly their shutters have been closed for the night. The scent of chimney smoke fills the air, and the din of water trundles from the rooftops, splashing into dark alleys and turning street gutters into rivulets. Suddenly, a plaintive cry for help from a nearby alley splits the evening air.

OOC:[sblock]Welcome to the game everyone. Instead of me trying to force you into the scene, I would like for the opening post to explain what you were doing out tonight, and what your initial reaction to the cry is. Looking forward to the game everyone.[/sblock]

 

[Land Outcast]

Remen is quietly playing cards with a new aquitance (honest or foolish, given how he has treated cheaters in the past) while Dowlee is somewhere else in the tavern, doing whatever she might be doing; at the moment he is concentrated, having fun at the nervousness of the young man in front of him, he knows the man will lose his last coppers.

The light is dim at that part of the building, and the chimney is obstructed by something, given that every once in a while smoke comes into the room. There isn't too much people tonight, the rain keeps them in their homes -at this thought, the Raven-black haired man smiles, for him the rain means refreshment-.

The door opens and a robed man enters the place, a gust of wind feeds the dying embers of the hearth, all the room is lighted brightly and a scream shatters the silent evening.

In a split of second Remen is up, when he looks for Dowlee, he only glimpses her hair going through the door, she counting on him following her; always ready to help those in need...

When he sees the hand of the man sitting in fron of him doing something with some extra cards appeared out of nowhere Remen takes out a dagger and lightning-fast nails firmly his cards to the table, looks him in the eye and says: "Don't touch them, we'll speak later"

He strides towards the night, storing his own cards in a pocket.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Arak is on his way back from evening prayers, waiting for Champion to sniff every corner and lift his leg on every post, when the scream comes.

With one hand, he whips his cloak off his shoulder and then pulls his long greatsword out. The dog whines, curious.

"Stay!" The mastiff returns to sniffing the corner of a baked goods shop as the paladin stomps off through the puddles in the direction of the cry for help.

 

[Malvoisin]

Othmar had frequently been taking to the streets, wandering alone and purposeless since the death of his mother. Tonight is no different. The portly wizard trudges along the Cauldron thoroughfares and back alleys, futilely trying to pull up the collar of his robe to keep the water from trickling down his neck. He mutters to the barn owl that flits unobtrusively nearby, keeping to the eaves of buildings to stay relatively dry.

"You see, Fidelis, you see, this, indeed, is why we ought to depart this misbegotten town. Add the weather, the...ambience to the list of reasons. With Agnes, our dearest mother, departed from this mortal coil, what, indeed, can keep us here any longer? Perhaps, perhaps indeed, a greater destiny lies in Sasserine, or..."

The plaintive cry splits the night air, cutting the mage off.

"Whatever, whatever, could that troublesome noise be?" Othmar wonders aloud as he turns in the sound's direction. "Come then, Fidelis, let's see who might be raisng such a ruckus and fuss." Othmar turns and splashes toward the sound's origination, Fidelis flying close behind.

 

[Legildur]

The damp gnome stands before an inn. The name of the palce is unimportant, unlike the beckoning warmth and possibility to escape from the constant drizzle. Distractedly feeling his purse and the meager coin within, Flannad of the once proud clan Flannath sighs to himself. Casting his eyes down he pauses for a few moments and knows that he must make the money last. He starts to move away to find somewhere at least dry on these damp, dark streets of Cauldron where he can spend yet another night.

Only a short distance from the the inn he has just turned his back on, Flannad hears the cry of someone in trouble. Immediately moving into survival mode, the young gnome, moves to the shadows and pads quietly to the mouth of the alley and peers in with his keen sight.

 

[Jdvn1]

In one of the sides of the tavern, Dowlee is playing darts with an acquaintance--she normally wins, but the acquaintance's ego always gets the best of him. Such a frail girl's luck should eventually run out, right? She lowered her silver eyes to aim at the target, but right when she threw, the door to the tavern opened, letting in a rush of cool air. Something was wrong.

The dart was still in mid-air when Dowlee picked up her equipment to run outside, and the acquaintance's eyes were watching the dart. Dowlee didn't need to look back. She already knew that Remen was coming right behind her and that the acquaintance's eyes were at the middle of the dart board.

The only sound in her head was the scream. The scream of someone alone and needing help. This was familiar to her.

 

[Question]

OOC : What the....? Didnt i make a post here earlier today?

IC : Liracor was walking around Cauldron, trying to familarize himself with its layout, its environment, its people. He expected to be here for quite a while at least.....probably even make it his base of operations for a long time.

Running back to his inn after being caught in the sudden downpour, he pauses, hearing the scream. "Ahhh a damsel in distress!" he thinks to himself, turning into the alley and drawing his sword as he goes.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Arak peers into the alley, greatsword held in both hands before him.

"Stop where you are! No sudden movements!"