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<blockquote data-quote="jbear" data-source="post: 5166476" data-attributes="member: 75065"><p>continued...</p><p> </p><p>That same night our group of improvised heroes set out on foot towards Saerb. They arrived without incident. They spoke little during the journey, barely more than an enchange of names. The warforged called himself Tron, a mercenary in search of fortune and glory. The memories of his life from before the time his flesh was forged with metal, were now blurred and indistinct . The dwarf, Hogart, was also looking for something, or someone. She sought a savior, the leader promised by the prophecy with which she had been raised. The wild elf, Tanisa, was an explorer, daughter of the headsman of her clan. She was an expert at searching for and finding things. Now, she fled from her mistakes. The dark elf, a thief named Rascabron, also fled. He fled from the nightmares of his past. But they didn't talk about these things. There was no reason to. They merely exchanged names and fell quiet.</p><p> </p><p>They found the shoeshop with ease. The sat at the window in the tavern opposite, impatiently waiting for the signal. They drank and ate. They very nearly began to enjoy themselves as they sat in wait, with the weight of the coin they had already earnt hanging heavy on their belts, almost tasting they rest of it soon to come. How easy it all seemed. That seeming did not last long.</p><p> </p><p>As the sun eventually began to set, at last the cobbler toddled out from the shop, bald, pale and fat. He lit the lantern with a trembling hand. Suddenly he turned to his left as he heard an authoritative shout from up the road.</p><p>-'Hold there! Inius Olger, you are under arrest!'</p><p>Quickly closing in on him were four of Saerb's armed guards. From the tavern window all saw the man dressed in black shielded amongst the guards. Only the sharp eyes of Tanisa saw the dagger he held hidden in his hand. Delivering a message was one thing, but no one wanted to get into trouble with the town guard, and much less so in a place like Sembia. But whatever was going on here reeked, and Tanisa was not one to stand by and let an innocent man be assassinated in front of her, be it thugs, guards or the King of the Shetlands. So she acted, hoping that her companions would follow her lead.</p><p>-'They are going to kill the cobbler. Kiss your coin goodbye.'</p><p>It worked. They followed her. Most of them through the doorway onto the street. Tron thought it was more opportune, and far more spectacular to leave the tavern through the window in a shower of broken glass. Unsurprisingly, the guards sensed the threat and formed a defensive line between them and Inius, who parylised with shock had still failed to react. When he finally turned to tumble back towards his store the man in black had already reached him. But luck was to smile on the chubby cobbler that day. The assassin's dagger became momentarily caught in the sleeve of his cloak, just long enough for Tanisa to drive an arrow with incredible precision behind the assassin's knee, leaving him hobbled and distracted with pain. So it was that Inius gained just enough time to waddle into his shop and dive beneath a pile of shoes. </p><p>Meanwhile Angus and Tron were having difficulties with the disciplined guards. No more had they closed in when the guards, using their long helberds, tumbled them to the ground with military precision. If it hadn't been for the innate magic of Rascabron, conjuring a cloud of darkness to protect his fallen fellows, and with his dagger sewing chaos amongst the blind and confused guards, perhaps the story would have met an early end. Before the guards could regroup, the two fallen warriors got back to their feet. Hogart called out the her goddess, the Lady Dwarf, Berronar, canalising her divine blessing into fearsome radiant spears, burning the guards, guiding her allies attacks and healing their wounds. Tron leapt above the disoriented guards and went straight for the assassin, who had still not given up on his purpose, limping determinedly towards the still open shoeshop door. Tron let let his heavy maul drop down on his neck, which broke with a grotesque noise. The man in black collapsed like a rag doll.</p><p>Badly wounded, overcome by the scorching attacks of Angus' arcane sword, and flanked by the deadly dark elf, the guards fled. A victory, but with grave consequences.</p><p> </p><p>They entered the shoeshop to find the Inius' enormous arse trembling in the air amongst the old shoes. Tron picked him up by the belt and set him rudely on his feet. Sensing his terror, the dwarf neared to calm his nerves and hand over the scroll.</p><p>-'Inius the Cobbler, I bring you a message as acorded with...'</p><p>She realised the merchant had never told them his name, and strangely, they had never thought to ask it.</p><p>'....ehem, with your contact in Saerloon. It was agreed that upon delivering the message, you would pay us 30 suns, each. That, if I make no mistake, is a hundre...'</p><p>'150 suns, I can count' interrupted Inius, 'but I can't take the scroll. It is too dangerous now. I am discovered. Take it to Loudwater.'</p><p>Tron picked him up by the neck.</p><p>-'The coin, fat man. We don't want to know anything about your stupid scroll. We're not going to take it anywhere, so...'</p><p>Choking for words, the cobbler wriggled his way to the floor. Hogart placed a hand on Tron's arm and he let him go.</p><p>-'Of course, the money. Take it. Here are 200 suns. If you take the stupid scroll to Loudwater, my contact will pay you 500 more.'</p><p>On the street coming from the direction in which the guards had run, piercing whistles could be heard. Inius pushed the scroll back towards Hogart.</p><p>'There's no time. I won't last long... in Loudwater you have to find the Tadpole. That is not his real name, and I know little more of him. This is not the way things are done, but what remedy? Find him without naming him. There are spies everywhere. Asking for him is the surest way to never find him. If you can't find him, destroy the scroll before you lose it. Opening it should suffice. Now run if you value your lives.'</p><p> </p><p>There was no need to say more. They realised they were backed up into one hell of a tight corner, but all things said and done, they'd made a small fortune in a question of days. And with the promise of doubling that amount, even if it meant a month or two's journey, it was worth it. They bolted out of the shoeshop. They could already see the reinforcements running towards them from the street up to the left, so they took off towards the right. the tavern owner stood in the frame of his broken window, ffuriously watching them disappear down the road, waving his fist.</p><p>-'Sons of whores! You've broken my window, you plagueborn! Guards! That way, they've gone that way!'</p><p>The reached a crossroad, the guards hot on their trail.</p><p>-'There will be too many of them at the outgate,' shouted Rascabron, who had a highly developed sense of urban wisdom, 'best we go towards the markets intown. There we can mix with the crowd.'</p><p>They headed towards the centre of town, despite the fact Saerb's main gate was right nearby. They ran as if there life depended on it. They slowly gained ground, weaving through the streets, losing the guards from sight, yet the whistles followed them too close still. The street became busier, slowing them down. At the streets end they could see the colourful tent tops of the market.</p><p>-'Almost there,' puffed Hogart.</p><p>-'Not quite. There is a control point further up, there where the people have grouped together. No doubt they have heard the whistles,' warned Tanisa.</p><p>-'Follow me,' said Angus climbing a nearby fence, 'we'll go above the rooves.'</p><p>-'Easily said,' answered the dwarf, her eyebrows heavily frowned.</p><p>Tron picked her up up and threw her upwards. Hogart grabbed the top of the fence like a terrified cat. With Angus pulling from above and Tron pushing from below she managed to scramble onto the roof. Without a single scrap of dignity, but she made it up. Tron climbed up behind her, the metal fence groaning as it deformed beneath his considerable weight. Before getting all the way to the top he received a kick in the face from an angry dwarf.</p><p>-'Don't you dare ever throw me anywhere ever again, or I swear...'</p><p>Tron laughed out loud.</p><p>-'I promise, dwarf. You have Tron's word.'</p><p>The elves followed nimbly behind them. And there, climbed up on that roof, something united them, deeply. Something much more powerful than the promise of a few gold coins. What united them was the thrill of adventure, the rush of adrenaline, a drug yearned and familiar to each one of them.</p><p> </p><p>_______________________________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>And so ended the first nights session, half-way through a skill challenge to escape the city of Saerb with the town guard pursuing them. 2 of the 5 players pulled out minutes before the first session, with some pretty lame excuses, which was pretty gutting. But my wife, bless her soul, toke up the guantlet, and it was sweet with 4 players. I ran Hogart the dwarf. In the next few sessions the wive's of the other players would take turns at running Hogart as we rotated from house to house. Also, another player would join with human paladin the following session, which would make the group grow to 6.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="jbear, post: 5166476, member: 75065"] continued... That same night our group of improvised heroes set out on foot towards Saerb. They arrived without incident. They spoke little during the journey, barely more than an enchange of names. The warforged called himself Tron, a mercenary in search of fortune and glory. The memories of his life from before the time his flesh was forged with metal, were now blurred and indistinct . The dwarf, Hogart, was also looking for something, or someone. She sought a savior, the leader promised by the prophecy with which she had been raised. The wild elf, Tanisa, was an explorer, daughter of the headsman of her clan. She was an expert at searching for and finding things. Now, she fled from her mistakes. The dark elf, a thief named Rascabron, also fled. He fled from the nightmares of his past. But they didn't talk about these things. There was no reason to. They merely exchanged names and fell quiet. They found the shoeshop with ease. The sat at the window in the tavern opposite, impatiently waiting for the signal. They drank and ate. They very nearly began to enjoy themselves as they sat in wait, with the weight of the coin they had already earnt hanging heavy on their belts, almost tasting they rest of it soon to come. How easy it all seemed. That seeming did not last long. As the sun eventually began to set, at last the cobbler toddled out from the shop, bald, pale and fat. He lit the lantern with a trembling hand. Suddenly he turned to his left as he heard an authoritative shout from up the road. -'Hold there! Inius Olger, you are under arrest!' Quickly closing in on him were four of Saerb's armed guards. From the tavern window all saw the man dressed in black shielded amongst the guards. Only the sharp eyes of Tanisa saw the dagger he held hidden in his hand. Delivering a message was one thing, but no one wanted to get into trouble with the town guard, and much less so in a place like Sembia. But whatever was going on here reeked, and Tanisa was not one to stand by and let an innocent man be assassinated in front of her, be it thugs, guards or the King of the Shetlands. So she acted, hoping that her companions would follow her lead. -'They are going to kill the cobbler. Kiss your coin goodbye.' It worked. They followed her. Most of them through the doorway onto the street. Tron thought it was more opportune, and far more spectacular to leave the tavern through the window in a shower of broken glass. Unsurprisingly, the guards sensed the threat and formed a defensive line between them and Inius, who parylised with shock had still failed to react. When he finally turned to tumble back towards his store the man in black had already reached him. But luck was to smile on the chubby cobbler that day. The assassin's dagger became momentarily caught in the sleeve of his cloak, just long enough for Tanisa to drive an arrow with incredible precision behind the assassin's knee, leaving him hobbled and distracted with pain. So it was that Inius gained just enough time to waddle into his shop and dive beneath a pile of shoes. Meanwhile Angus and Tron were having difficulties with the disciplined guards. No more had they closed in when the guards, using their long helberds, tumbled them to the ground with military precision. If it hadn't been for the innate magic of Rascabron, conjuring a cloud of darkness to protect his fallen fellows, and with his dagger sewing chaos amongst the blind and confused guards, perhaps the story would have met an early end. Before the guards could regroup, the two fallen warriors got back to their feet. Hogart called out the her goddess, the Lady Dwarf, Berronar, canalising her divine blessing into fearsome radiant spears, burning the guards, guiding her allies attacks and healing their wounds. Tron leapt above the disoriented guards and went straight for the assassin, who had still not given up on his purpose, limping determinedly towards the still open shoeshop door. Tron let let his heavy maul drop down on his neck, which broke with a grotesque noise. The man in black collapsed like a rag doll. Badly wounded, overcome by the scorching attacks of Angus' arcane sword, and flanked by the deadly dark elf, the guards fled. A victory, but with grave consequences. They entered the shoeshop to find the Inius' enormous arse trembling in the air amongst the old shoes. Tron picked him up by the belt and set him rudely on his feet. Sensing his terror, the dwarf neared to calm his nerves and hand over the scroll. -'Inius the Cobbler, I bring you a message as acorded with...' She realised the merchant had never told them his name, and strangely, they had never thought to ask it. '....ehem, with your contact in Saerloon. It was agreed that upon delivering the message, you would pay us 30 suns, each. That, if I make no mistake, is a hundre...' '150 suns, I can count' interrupted Inius, 'but I can't take the scroll. It is too dangerous now. I am discovered. Take it to Loudwater.' Tron picked him up by the neck. -'The coin, fat man. We don't want to know anything about your stupid scroll. We're not going to take it anywhere, so...' Choking for words, the cobbler wriggled his way to the floor. Hogart placed a hand on Tron's arm and he let him go. -'Of course, the money. Take it. Here are 200 suns. If you take the stupid scroll to Loudwater, my contact will pay you 500 more.' On the street coming from the direction in which the guards had run, piercing whistles could be heard. Inius pushed the scroll back towards Hogart. 'There's no time. I won't last long... in Loudwater you have to find the Tadpole. That is not his real name, and I know little more of him. This is not the way things are done, but what remedy? Find him without naming him. There are spies everywhere. Asking for him is the surest way to never find him. If you can't find him, destroy the scroll before you lose it. Opening it should suffice. Now run if you value your lives.' There was no need to say more. They realised they were backed up into one hell of a tight corner, but all things said and done, they'd made a small fortune in a question of days. And with the promise of doubling that amount, even if it meant a month or two's journey, it was worth it. They bolted out of the shoeshop. They could already see the reinforcements running towards them from the street up to the left, so they took off towards the right. the tavern owner stood in the frame of his broken window, ffuriously watching them disappear down the road, waving his fist. -'Sons of whores! You've broken my window, you plagueborn! Guards! That way, they've gone that way!' The reached a crossroad, the guards hot on their trail. -'There will be too many of them at the outgate,' shouted Rascabron, who had a highly developed sense of urban wisdom, 'best we go towards the markets intown. There we can mix with the crowd.' They headed towards the centre of town, despite the fact Saerb's main gate was right nearby. They ran as if there life depended on it. They slowly gained ground, weaving through the streets, losing the guards from sight, yet the whistles followed them too close still. The street became busier, slowing them down. At the streets end they could see the colourful tent tops of the market. -'Almost there,' puffed Hogart. -'Not quite. There is a control point further up, there where the people have grouped together. No doubt they have heard the whistles,' warned Tanisa. -'Follow me,' said Angus climbing a nearby fence, 'we'll go above the rooves.' -'Easily said,' answered the dwarf, her eyebrows heavily frowned. Tron picked her up up and threw her upwards. Hogart grabbed the top of the fence like a terrified cat. With Angus pulling from above and Tron pushing from below she managed to scramble onto the roof. Without a single scrap of dignity, but she made it up. Tron climbed up behind her, the metal fence groaning as it deformed beneath his considerable weight. Before getting all the way to the top he received a kick in the face from an angry dwarf. -'Don't you dare ever throw me anywhere ever again, or I swear...' Tron laughed out loud. -'I promise, dwarf. You have Tron's word.' The elves followed nimbly behind them. And there, climbed up on that roof, something united them, deeply. Something much more powerful than the promise of a few gold coins. What united them was the thrill of adventure, the rush of adrenaline, a drug yearned and familiar to each one of them. _______________________________________________________________________ And so ended the first nights session, half-way through a skill challenge to escape the city of Saerb with the town guard pursuing them. 2 of the 5 players pulled out minutes before the first session, with some pretty lame excuses, which was pretty gutting. But my wife, bless her soul, toke up the guantlet, and it was sweet with 4 players. I ran Hogart the dwarf. In the next few sessions the wive's of the other players would take turns at running Hogart as we rotated from house to house. Also, another player would join with human paladin the following session, which would make the group grow to 6. [/QUOTE]
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