Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Pedestrian" data-source="post: 3657514" data-attributes="member: 40208">Session 5: New faces, the Battle of Drellin's FerryXerxes pushed the door to the Apple, the humbler of Drellin’s Ferry’s two alehouses, aside. It was near empty, noted the northerner, only a few off-duty guards in attendance. There was another as well, a cloaked figure. His pulse quickened, images of Seraphim dancing across his mind, cruel swords cutting his flesh. Usurpers. He shook his head, banishing the thought. The stranger was no enforcer of the faith, just some broken traveller nursing his hurts alongside his mug. Xerxes was a student of mysteries, passing through this barbarous land in the guise of a magi. The native tribes of this area – Argyles they called themselves – believed the lie easily enough. The dark-skinned man nodded, and his accomplices filed into the shady inn, a burly half-orc and an athletic Salacian.Sol, the Half-Orc, was massive, looking every inch the gladiator he had once been, bristling with weaponry. Born in the frozen Wazlad, Sol had been captured at a young age by a rival tribe, taken across the Glass Sea and sold to the goblinoids of Srax. He had fought his way to freedom, only to be cast out onto the burning sands. Xerxes had first found Sol – or rather been found by him – while exploring the ruins of Srax, ancient Gnomish cities left to decay by the Goblish conquerors. One secret of many Xerxes possessed. Sol had saved his life, and the two had been fast allies. Xerxes had even taught the Half-Orc to read, for which the warrior was eternally grateful, in his own way.The other man, Kayan, was one of the other tribes of the southern continent. Salac styled itself the seat of a reborn Great Empire, bolstered by a reborn Orthodoxy. Betrayers. Xerxes always smiled at that thought. Perhaps someone should send a ship north, across the Gateway, to inform the Empire of this change. Kayan himself, a whip-thin man of corded muscle, was part of this new Orthodoxy. Eaters of filth! Xerxes had been surprised to learn of the man’s ordination upon meeting him. Kayan certainly looked like no priest the northerner had ever seen, resembling more the chancers and robbers of tombs he had worked with previously. Yet the man was a fellow of singular learning, and had called down the powers of the gods on more than one occasion.The three of them had been hired in Dennovar, a sprawling trade city to the east, to investigate the halt of trade along the Dawn Way, brought on by increasing tales of hobgoblin banditry. As was always the case in Dennovar, they had been approached by a shady figure in an inn, ready with gold, but not with details of for whom they were working. City fathers or city crime lords, it mattered little.“Take that table” Xerxes said to Sol over his shoulder, pointing over at the corner of the room, near the cloaked figure, but far enough away to respect his privacy. Pelor – Liar – knew, Xerxes could understand the need for it.“And you get the drinks in” replied Sol with a crooked grin. Xerxes grunted affirmation, and moved up to speak with the barkeep, a short woman, a “Dwarf” of the south lands, who introduced herself as Tharrma. She seemed interested in small talk, but Xerxes didn’t have the head for it this day. He ordered three mugs of ale – good stuff, not the cheap swill he and Sol usually contented themselves with – as well as a pie. He was starving.</blockquote>

Verification