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Story Hour
The Thorns of Winter -(updated 8/1/2023)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 8142096" data-attributes="member: 6971069"><p style="text-align: center"><strong>A Party of Characters - 12/6/2020</strong></p> <p style="text-align: center"><strong></strong></p> <p style="text-align: center"><strong>Two Weeks later, Denning, Karrnath</strong></p><p></p><p>Sage looked out the window of the private Orien carriage. It was only the second time he had travelled, with the first being when he left Cyre for his assignment for House Kundarak. Over the course of the day, the conditions outside changed dramatically. The early morning in Cattbron was freezing as a blizzard dumped snow thick on the ground as icy winds blew through the Railtown. But as they travelled north, the temperature grew warmer and the air became more humid. Frozen ground gave quickly away to sludge and mud. Mud so thick in places, that many of the coaches were separated as they found themselves stuck or needed to assist unsticking others.</p><p></p><p>But it seemed to Sage a waste to dedicate an entire carriage to just himself. It was also strange not to be asked to assist or help in any way. In fact, when Sage offered, it was turned down, apologetically, as if he shouldn’t be concerned with trivial matters. This deference wasn’t something he was used to and he found it discomforting. Sage felt like he should always be doing something. Idle hands were a wasted opportunity. So, the idea of not being allowed to help was strange. Was this normal? The Mror he was sold to, and then worked for valued work and work ethic. And while they did enjoy time to do nothing productive, like drink and eat, But, it wasn’t nothing. They always did something they valued. Siting alone in a carriage not allowed to help because he was using a highly paid ticket was absurd. But the effort to make a fuss about such things wasn’t worth it.</p><p></p><p>So, it appeared that all Sage could do was review the spells in his spellshard, as the countryside slid by. The frozen plains and low hills near Cattbron, gave way to a forest of oak and beech, and the occasional pine. The scent of the wet leaves hung in the damp air as it warmed. The train of carriages and wagons stopped only once during the two-day journey, circling up into five different clusters to ‘keep wolves at bay’ said the Orien teamsters.</p><p></p><p>The evening was uneventful and boring. Only some merchants, and drovers of Cannith supplies were in the circle, which meant that cattle and gambling were the only topics of discussion, neither which interested the Warforged. And the others were content to leave the massive hulking juggernaut alone.</p><p></p><p>But the next day travelled quickly, as the air continued to grow warmer, with the occasional light shower and no sun. But as much as the drovers complained, it mattered little to Sage. Weather were not counted on the list of foes; just a condition to endure or use to your advantage. And so, he endured it, until finally just as the sun was setting in the west, the carriage reached Denning.</p><p></p><p>Sage took an interest in the frontier town, as they approached. A low wall, a man and a half high surrounded the main part of it, with some farms nested along the outer walls. As they approached Sage noticed that the town and its walls straddled a fast-moving river. As the carriage bounced onwards, Sage could see arches connecting the walls over the rivers. But as they entered the main gate he noticed that the walls on a single section was much higher; around thirty feet or so around a large building with a pair of slender steeples, shaped like needles.</p><p></p><p>Sage regarded the fortifications with confusion. The walls seemed impractical; too low to keep any assault from coming inside. And as they entered the town gate of Denning, he realized that the walls were as equally thick as tall. This would make them impractical to breach, but why bother? It would be just as easy to scale with ladders or hook and rope. As the carriage transitioned from the mud to hard cobble, he saw something else odd. There were palisades flanking each side of the interior of the gate, each one half the height of the wall. But their orientation made sage think they were designed to prevent someone from leaving the town, as opposed to protecting the gate.</p><p></p><p>Past the gate doors, the road was very wide. Six carriages could have easily shared the width of the street and was lined with shops. Many focused-on feed and tack for horse, and other necessities related to ranching. A pair of smithies for working iron, but little in the way of weapons, or at least none were visible. The town showed no signs of damage or reconstruction; like The Last War had somehow spared it. But as he looked closely at the the building passing by, he noted that there were signs of work deferred. Most windows had lights within shining, but a handful of structures had been boarded up, their occupants long gone. Sage reassessed and realized that if the war had not come here, it had taken its fair share of people away to die on a distant battlefield. Korunda’s Gate had that aspect to it too; no battle ever occurred there, but there were numbers of homes shut and sealed as Mror left and consolidated their holdings..</p><p></p><p>The carriage crossed a bridge spanning the swift river and entered a spacious town square. From here, Sage could see signs marking the location of a Sivis message station, Valadis stable, and a small building with the Jorasco sigil hanging from an iron bracket. From behind the buildings another steeple with a solitary bell, rose into the sky. And of course, there were more outfitters of equipment and supplies for ranchers. Finally, the carriage came to a stop in front of a two storied stone building. After a moment, the Orient drover, jumped down from his seat, and pulled open the door on the coach saying, “We’re here.”</p><p></p><p>Sage grabbed his steel shield and shifted carefully his large metallic frame, causing the carriage to sway as he exited. He saw that darkness was now settling into the town, and with it the air cooling. But fortunately, the rain had decided to stay away. Looking up, he saw that he was being dropped off at a Ghallanda licensed inn called ‘The Drover’s Rest.’ But he had barely started to lumber forward, when bounding out of the front of the Inn, came a halfling shouting eagerly.</p><p></p><p>“Welcome! Welcome! You are all…wait…only one?!?” the halfling asked puzzled.</p><p></p><p>Sage looked around, as the drovers pulled the carriage away leaving him alone with the halfling. “The wagon train was separated by weather and mud. But I did not know others wer—”</p><p></p><p>“I understand…not a concern at all…hm…which one are you?” he said looking the Juggernaut up and down. “Well…you do look like a Redoubt I suppose?”</p><p></p><p>“Sage Redoubt.”</p><p></p><p>The halfling smiled, pleased with himself. “A good guess then on my part. Anyway, my name is Findo…Findo Gask,” and he held out a hand, which Sage shook awkwardly. “No luggage I see,” he said looking around at the ground. “Well come with me; a room has been provided for you of course, and Taryn has a private dinning room for all of you to meet and eat as it were,” and Findo led Sage inside.</p><p></p><p>“’All of you’? How many are expected?” Sage asked.</p><p></p><p>“Oh, he said to expect ten in total, but you are the first guest to arrive,” Findo said as they entered the inn. It was warm with two fireplaces lit, and oak tables scattered around the room. The center was dominated by a bar of wood surrounding a pair of large barrels, each the size of a carriage in itself. A female halfling was running on a ledge inside the bar, getting drinks, while a pair of human girls were doing the same to the tables on the outside. On the far wall was a door leading out, and a staircase leading up.</p><p></p><p>“This way,” and Findo gestured and led Sage to a passage to the left, which had a pair of double doors set into the left wall. The passage also continued to the kitchen, where he saw a pair of halfling’s scamper and preparing for their guests. As Sage reached the doors, he saw that there was a Warforged inside the kitchen hauling a box and they had stopped to look at Sage. The Warforged, stiffened as it regarded him, for a moment, and then continued its work, disinterested. Findo then opened the doors to the room, and ushered Sage inside.</p><p></p><p>The room must have been tailored to the local hunters. Animal heads were mouned on the wall, and the chandelier was made of racks of deer horns. A long table was set out with chairs pressed against the walls. On it, a spread of food was set upon it, various game meats, fish, breads and the like. In the middle of the table, various bottles of liquor, wine and a small keg of beer were set , with mugs and glasses placed within easy reach around it.</p><p></p><p>“Help yourself, to…well…anyway, Taryn will be down once the rest have arrived,” Findo said a little awkwardly, but with a smile, and he closed the door behind him.</p><p></p><p>Sage stared at the food and drink on the table, and then looked at the flimsy looking chairs set around. Shaking his head, he moved over to the window, set his shield down and waited for the others to arrive.</p><p></p><p>[HR][/HR]</p><p></p><p></p><p>Trudging through the mud on that same night another coach made its way to the town of Denning. Inside, the coach a solitary figure brooded and spoke to themselves aloud.</p><p></p><p>"I know we're a long way from Sharn. But a hero doesn't choose the source of the call for help. He just answers."</p><p></p><p>Sitting alone inside the coach watching the road roll by, with the hood of his cloak obscuring all but his mouth, the elf spoke loudly enough to be heard outside the cabin. The driver on the other side of the window called back hesitantly. "Beg your pardon? We don't normally talk through the glass, I usually just drive and—"</p><p></p><p>"Don't worry, citizen, I'll overlook it. Your curiosity is understandable. It's a common reaction to meeting me in person."</p><p>With a brief, awkward glance over his shoulder, the driver said "Sir?"</p><p></p><p>"That's right. The Savior of Sharn. The Cloaked Crusader. The thin black line between order and anarchy. The one they call… The Blade."</p><p>"The what?"</p><p></p><p>"But there's no need to be intimidated, citizen. I'm just a man… a heroic man with the weight of an entire city on his noble, powerful shoulders."</p><p></p><p>The driver's head suddenly twisted much too far in the direction of his passenger, and an absent-minded tug on the reins sent the coach veering wide. Immediately he snapped them back, abruptly pulling the coach back on course.</p><p></p><p>As if unaware of the swerve, the cloaked figure continued. "But there's more to fighting crime than simply being amazing. The weak and the innocent are plagued every day by deadly threats. So they need a hero who's also a deadly threat. And I threaten those deadly threats deadly…ly."</p><p></p><p>The driver's head remains stiffly facing forward. For only a second, his mouth opens silently before closing again.</p><p></p><p>"I know what you're thinking, citizen. I can see it in your eyes," he says to the back of the driver's head. "What makes a man choose heroism? What makes him strive every day to crush the slimy worms of crime under the righteous boot of justice?"</p><p></p><p>"I didn't—"</p><p></p><p>"Well forget it, friend. My story is too long and… storied for one coach ride."</p><p></p><p>"Oh thank—"</p><p></p><p>"Suffice it to say: A new enemy of justice has emerged to threaten The Blade. But little do they know, they've made a powerful enemy today. And the enemy of my enemy is… me."</p><p></p><p>[HR][/HR]</p><p></p><p>“And of course, thank you serrah, for your hospitality,” came a voice with a distinct drawl, as the doors opened.</p><p></p><p>“Of course, Rosa d’Jorasco,” said Findo. “Please help yourself, and Taryn will be down in a while.”</p><p></p><p>A brown haired halfling, walked into the room nodding. She looked at the heads and chandelier with distaste and moved to the table, stepping on a long step stool set in front of it. She reached forward, toward one of the bottles, and poured out a honey colored liquid into a glass.</p><p></p><p>“Are you just goin to stare out that winda, or are you going to be polite company and say ‘Hello?’” she asked without turning.</p><p>Sage’s head turned slightly from the window. “Hello. Rosa correct? And a Reacher from the sound of it?”</p><p></p><p>“Did the drawl give it away my dear?”</p><p></p><p>“Accent is common among population on the eastern edge of the Eldeen. I was given training to recognize it years ago. I am Sage Redoubt”</p><p>Rosa chuckled, “I guess guilty as charged. So, what brings a big fella like you here?”</p><p></p><p>“A letter, and questions. And I assume him as well,” Sage said.</p><p></p><p>“Him?” and Rosa turned, and there in the corner near the door stood a shadow of a figure. A glass of wine in hand. His cowled face exposing the fine features of elven cheeks and chin. A long bow was leaning against the wall in easy reach, while the leather cloak was pulled back, revealing a coiled whip and a pouch at his sides.</p><p></p><p>“I do have questions,” the elf said simply with a gravelly whisper. “Melisandre knows things, and I would like to understand how.”</p><p></p><p>“And what is your name then?” Rosa asked smiling.</p><p></p><p>“You may call me… ‘The Blade.’”</p><p></p><p>Rosa tilted her head and looked at the elf with disbelief. “The…Blade?”</p><p></p><p>Sage took a step forward toward the hooded figure and looked him up and down.</p><p></p><p>“But you aren’t carrying one,” Sage pointed out.</p><p></p><p>“I don’t understand your point,” came the figure’s reply.</p><p></p><p>Sage was about to respond when the door opened again, the voice of a nervous Findo saying, “Ah…yes…food is in there Mobad…and drink I suppose.” Inside strode a grey skinned true blooded Orc. He moved directly to the table, drawing a short sword and sliced off a hunk of ham. He then stabbed it and brought it to his jaw where he tore off a chuck with his canines. He stood there chewing, and glared at the others before saying “Whut?”</p><p></p><p>“Ah..well…help yourself Mobad,” Rosa said as the shock wore off.</p><p></p><p>“I am.” And he shoved a chunk of ham into his mouth.</p><p></p><p>[HR][/HR]</p><p></p><p>The carriage pulled in next to the ‘The Drover’s Rest’ a human male with blonde hair stepped out and thanked the driver. and watched as the carraige pulled away. Taking his stick in hand, he looked at the coach as it pulled away. The man then looked around, and then quickly moved to the right side of the inn, and circled around it in the darkness. Finally, they found what they was looking for. There in the light of the windows, were a line of privies, and a brick lined path leading to the side entrance of the inn. The man made his way quietly over to the entrance and took a deep breath, before quietly opening it.</p><p></p><p>The door, opened, admitting the grey and silver haired old woman. Doxx quickly shut the door, and then slowly made their way around the bar. They saw two distinct groupings of people. The first were ranchers and hunters, locally dressed in working clothing. The others were merchants on the road, looking to make business. Each sat apart from the other. As Doxx made their way around the bar, they noted the conversation were the same from both groups; the weather, and how the cattle drive was late.</p><p></p><p>Neither was of interest. Doxx then spied a pair of doors, not far from the front entrance and close to the kitchen doors. They moved over and sat at the bar and was watching, when a halfling came out of the kitchen and spied them.</p><p></p><p>“Ah yes, another guest. You are expect—” Findo started to say.</p><p></p><p>The old woman turned their head and smiled. “—I doubt that sonny.”</p><p></p><p>Findo frowned and his brows furrowed, “I was told that to expect an old woman, are you sure—”</p><p></p><p>“—I am certainly not expected by anyone. But you do have another guest.”</p><p></p><p>In the Inn’s doorway stood looking around uncertainly was a Warforged in a battered brown cloak. The halfling quickly made his way to him saying, “Ah, you are the other one, Captain—”</p><p></p><p>“—Just…Bookshelf. Where am I…?” and looked and stared with curiosity at the old woman seated at the bar, when Findo waved at the Warforged to follow him.</p><p></p><p>“This way, everyone is in the private dining room. Follow me please. Flinsa can you send a girl to tell Taryn that all but one of his new guests have arrived!” Findo said and he led Bookshelf to the dining room doors. All the while Doxx nodded to themselves.</p><p></p><p>“Did that woman come back?” Flinsa asked.</p><p></p><p>“Not that I’ve seen!” and Findo yelled before heading off to the kitchen.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah one moment dear…whatcha want sweetie,” Flinsa waved at a one of the barmaids, who ran up the stairs and then she ran over to Doxx’s seat behind the bar.</p><p></p><p>“Just some water…my stomach can’t handle the brew anymore,” Doxx said almost absently, as they watched the warforged entering the dinning room.</p><p></p><p>“Sorry about that…we do have some milk that might settle your stom—”</p><p></p><p>“—No…water. Milk gives me gas.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh dear…did you need any thing then easy on the constitution…broth or boiled foul?”</p><p></p><p>“No…but what’s with the side room over there?” Doxx asked.</p><p></p><p>“Oh that? Private party for a Kundarak. All of them from out of town.”</p><p></p><p>From Doxx’s left they heard a loud clambering down the stairs. Glancing over they saw a pair of dwarves dressed in Mrorian styled clothing and armor, and two Denieth Blademarks moving down the stairs.</p><p></p><p>“—First the cows, now Melisandra, then Myrai, and now our missing guest. What else is going missing Debrika…don’t answer that! I don’t want to know.” Said the male Mror with short hair and cropped beard, followed by an armored dwarf female with a maul shaking her head. They both stood in front of the doors, and the Blademarks took position flanking the entrance. And with a deep breath, the male opened the door shouting with a smile.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, yes good evening gentlefolk! I am Taryn d’Kundarak and I am—" when the door shut cutting his speech off.</p><p>Doxx frowned. Perhaps they should have said they were expected, but that wouldn’t do if the real person arrived. They’d would have to bide their time and wait.</p><p></p><p>“Here’s your water hon,” Flinsa said. And Doxx took an absent sip, when the doors to the dining room suddenly were flung open. The female dwarf had emerged, with her maul resting on her shoulder, and in her other hand she held a letter. She glanced around for a moment and locked her eyes on Doxx. She stomped over next to the old woman and looked at her scowling.</p><p></p><p>“You are late,” she growled.</p><p></p><p>“I’m sorry I don’t know—ACK!”</p><p></p><p>Debrika had with a single arm swung her maul, shattering the stool the old woman was seated on, landing her flat on her back. The entire Inn grew quiet at the exchange. Debrika leaned down in a hush growl almost repeated herself.</p><p></p><p>“You are late…Doxx,” and to the old woman’s surprise, Debrika dropped a letter on her chest. Doxx blinked and coughed, sitting up. And looked at the letter which said to their surprise ‘<strong><em>To Doxx.’ </em></strong>They ripped open the letter and read the contents in confusion:</p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"></p><p>Doxx blinked in the silence of the Inn. They then coughed and stood, looking Debrika in the eye.</p><p></p><p>“I think I know the way.”</p><p></p><p><strong>Session Notes: </strong></p><p></p><p>First, this campaign was notable for having a number of people interest in writing stories about it. This first one contains one of and about the more than famous 'The Blade' by his player Ryan, who was kind enough to give me permission to repost.</p><p></p><p>Second you wont find either Cattbron or Denning on the map of Eberron. But you will see some pictures on them in the next post.</p><p></p><p>Third, Findo Gask the innkeeper. Findo Gask in reality is the name of a village in Scotland, which I have personally been through. However, the name has been appropriated multiple times, including by Terry Brooks (which no one realized when the name was used for that innkeeper.) </p><p></p><p>Last, Doxx's introduction was convoluted. mostly because he was given the wrong draft of the intro letter which you all read now. So, an equally convoluted and ridiculous method of getting things on track was used.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nthal, post: 8142096, member: 6971069"] [CENTER][B]A Party of Characters - 12/6/2020 Two Weeks later, Denning, Karrnath[/B][/CENTER] Sage looked out the window of the private Orien carriage. It was only the second time he had travelled, with the first being when he left Cyre for his assignment for House Kundarak. Over the course of the day, the conditions outside changed dramatically. The early morning in Cattbron was freezing as a blizzard dumped snow thick on the ground as icy winds blew through the Railtown. But as they travelled north, the temperature grew warmer and the air became more humid. Frozen ground gave quickly away to sludge and mud. Mud so thick in places, that many of the coaches were separated as they found themselves stuck or needed to assist unsticking others. But it seemed to Sage a waste to dedicate an entire carriage to just himself. It was also strange not to be asked to assist or help in any way. In fact, when Sage offered, it was turned down, apologetically, as if he shouldn’t be concerned with trivial matters. This deference wasn’t something he was used to and he found it discomforting. Sage felt like he should always be doing something. Idle hands were a wasted opportunity. So, the idea of not being allowed to help was strange. Was this normal? The Mror he was sold to, and then worked for valued work and work ethic. And while they did enjoy time to do nothing productive, like drink and eat, But, it wasn’t nothing. They always did something they valued. Siting alone in a carriage not allowed to help because he was using a highly paid ticket was absurd. But the effort to make a fuss about such things wasn’t worth it. So, it appeared that all Sage could do was review the spells in his spellshard, as the countryside slid by. The frozen plains and low hills near Cattbron, gave way to a forest of oak and beech, and the occasional pine. The scent of the wet leaves hung in the damp air as it warmed. The train of carriages and wagons stopped only once during the two-day journey, circling up into five different clusters to ‘keep wolves at bay’ said the Orien teamsters. The evening was uneventful and boring. Only some merchants, and drovers of Cannith supplies were in the circle, which meant that cattle and gambling were the only topics of discussion, neither which interested the Warforged. And the others were content to leave the massive hulking juggernaut alone. But the next day travelled quickly, as the air continued to grow warmer, with the occasional light shower and no sun. But as much as the drovers complained, it mattered little to Sage. Weather were not counted on the list of foes; just a condition to endure or use to your advantage. And so, he endured it, until finally just as the sun was setting in the west, the carriage reached Denning. Sage took an interest in the frontier town, as they approached. A low wall, a man and a half high surrounded the main part of it, with some farms nested along the outer walls. As they approached Sage noticed that the town and its walls straddled a fast-moving river. As the carriage bounced onwards, Sage could see arches connecting the walls over the rivers. But as they entered the main gate he noticed that the walls on a single section was much higher; around thirty feet or so around a large building with a pair of slender steeples, shaped like needles. Sage regarded the fortifications with confusion. The walls seemed impractical; too low to keep any assault from coming inside. And as they entered the town gate of Denning, he realized that the walls were as equally thick as tall. This would make them impractical to breach, but why bother? It would be just as easy to scale with ladders or hook and rope. As the carriage transitioned from the mud to hard cobble, he saw something else odd. There were palisades flanking each side of the interior of the gate, each one half the height of the wall. But their orientation made sage think they were designed to prevent someone from leaving the town, as opposed to protecting the gate. Past the gate doors, the road was very wide. Six carriages could have easily shared the width of the street and was lined with shops. Many focused-on feed and tack for horse, and other necessities related to ranching. A pair of smithies for working iron, but little in the way of weapons, or at least none were visible. The town showed no signs of damage or reconstruction; like The Last War had somehow spared it. But as he looked closely at the the building passing by, he noted that there were signs of work deferred. Most windows had lights within shining, but a handful of structures had been boarded up, their occupants long gone. Sage reassessed and realized that if the war had not come here, it had taken its fair share of people away to die on a distant battlefield. Korunda’s Gate had that aspect to it too; no battle ever occurred there, but there were numbers of homes shut and sealed as Mror left and consolidated their holdings.. The carriage crossed a bridge spanning the swift river and entered a spacious town square. From here, Sage could see signs marking the location of a Sivis message station, Valadis stable, and a small building with the Jorasco sigil hanging from an iron bracket. From behind the buildings another steeple with a solitary bell, rose into the sky. And of course, there were more outfitters of equipment and supplies for ranchers. Finally, the carriage came to a stop in front of a two storied stone building. After a moment, the Orient drover, jumped down from his seat, and pulled open the door on the coach saying, “We’re here.” Sage grabbed his steel shield and shifted carefully his large metallic frame, causing the carriage to sway as he exited. He saw that darkness was now settling into the town, and with it the air cooling. But fortunately, the rain had decided to stay away. Looking up, he saw that he was being dropped off at a Ghallanda licensed inn called ‘The Drover’s Rest.’ But he had barely started to lumber forward, when bounding out of the front of the Inn, came a halfling shouting eagerly. “Welcome! Welcome! You are all…wait…only one?!?” the halfling asked puzzled. Sage looked around, as the drovers pulled the carriage away leaving him alone with the halfling. “The wagon train was separated by weather and mud. But I did not know others wer—” “I understand…not a concern at all…hm…which one are you?” he said looking the Juggernaut up and down. “Well…you do look like a Redoubt I suppose?” “Sage Redoubt.” The halfling smiled, pleased with himself. “A good guess then on my part. Anyway, my name is Findo…Findo Gask,” and he held out a hand, which Sage shook awkwardly. “No luggage I see,” he said looking around at the ground. “Well come with me; a room has been provided for you of course, and Taryn has a private dinning room for all of you to meet and eat as it were,” and Findo led Sage inside. “’All of you’? How many are expected?” Sage asked. “Oh, he said to expect ten in total, but you are the first guest to arrive,” Findo said as they entered the inn. It was warm with two fireplaces lit, and oak tables scattered around the room. The center was dominated by a bar of wood surrounding a pair of large barrels, each the size of a carriage in itself. A female halfling was running on a ledge inside the bar, getting drinks, while a pair of human girls were doing the same to the tables on the outside. On the far wall was a door leading out, and a staircase leading up. “This way,” and Findo gestured and led Sage to a passage to the left, which had a pair of double doors set into the left wall. The passage also continued to the kitchen, where he saw a pair of halfling’s scamper and preparing for their guests. As Sage reached the doors, he saw that there was a Warforged inside the kitchen hauling a box and they had stopped to look at Sage. The Warforged, stiffened as it regarded him, for a moment, and then continued its work, disinterested. Findo then opened the doors to the room, and ushered Sage inside. The room must have been tailored to the local hunters. Animal heads were mouned on the wall, and the chandelier was made of racks of deer horns. A long table was set out with chairs pressed against the walls. On it, a spread of food was set upon it, various game meats, fish, breads and the like. In the middle of the table, various bottles of liquor, wine and a small keg of beer were set , with mugs and glasses placed within easy reach around it. “Help yourself, to…well…anyway, Taryn will be down once the rest have arrived,” Findo said a little awkwardly, but with a smile, and he closed the door behind him. Sage stared at the food and drink on the table, and then looked at the flimsy looking chairs set around. Shaking his head, he moved over to the window, set his shield down and waited for the others to arrive. [HR][/HR] Trudging through the mud on that same night another coach made its way to the town of Denning. Inside, the coach a solitary figure brooded and spoke to themselves aloud. "I know we're a long way from Sharn. But a hero doesn't choose the source of the call for help. He just answers." Sitting alone inside the coach watching the road roll by, with the hood of his cloak obscuring all but his mouth, the elf spoke loudly enough to be heard outside the cabin. The driver on the other side of the window called back hesitantly. "Beg your pardon? We don't normally talk through the glass, I usually just drive and—" "Don't worry, citizen, I'll overlook it. Your curiosity is understandable. It's a common reaction to meeting me in person." With a brief, awkward glance over his shoulder, the driver said "Sir?" "That's right. The Savior of Sharn. The Cloaked Crusader. The thin black line between order and anarchy. The one they call… The Blade." "The what?" "But there's no need to be intimidated, citizen. I'm just a man… a heroic man with the weight of an entire city on his noble, powerful shoulders." The driver's head suddenly twisted much too far in the direction of his passenger, and an absent-minded tug on the reins sent the coach veering wide. Immediately he snapped them back, abruptly pulling the coach back on course. As if unaware of the swerve, the cloaked figure continued. "But there's more to fighting crime than simply being amazing. The weak and the innocent are plagued every day by deadly threats. So they need a hero who's also a deadly threat. And I threaten those deadly threats deadly…ly." The driver's head remains stiffly facing forward. For only a second, his mouth opens silently before closing again. "I know what you're thinking, citizen. I can see it in your eyes," he says to the back of the driver's head. "What makes a man choose heroism? What makes him strive every day to crush the slimy worms of crime under the righteous boot of justice?" "I didn't—" "Well forget it, friend. My story is too long and… storied for one coach ride." "Oh thank—" "Suffice it to say: A new enemy of justice has emerged to threaten The Blade. But little do they know, they've made a powerful enemy today. And the enemy of my enemy is… me." [HR][/HR] “And of course, thank you serrah, for your hospitality,” came a voice with a distinct drawl, as the doors opened. “Of course, Rosa d’Jorasco,” said Findo. “Please help yourself, and Taryn will be down in a while.” A brown haired halfling, walked into the room nodding. She looked at the heads and chandelier with distaste and moved to the table, stepping on a long step stool set in front of it. She reached forward, toward one of the bottles, and poured out a honey colored liquid into a glass. “Are you just goin to stare out that winda, or are you going to be polite company and say ‘Hello?’” she asked without turning. Sage’s head turned slightly from the window. “Hello. Rosa correct? And a Reacher from the sound of it?” “Did the drawl give it away my dear?” “Accent is common among population on the eastern edge of the Eldeen. I was given training to recognize it years ago. I am Sage Redoubt” Rosa chuckled, “I guess guilty as charged. So, what brings a big fella like you here?” “A letter, and questions. And I assume him as well,” Sage said. “Him?” and Rosa turned, and there in the corner near the door stood a shadow of a figure. A glass of wine in hand. His cowled face exposing the fine features of elven cheeks and chin. A long bow was leaning against the wall in easy reach, while the leather cloak was pulled back, revealing a coiled whip and a pouch at his sides. “I do have questions,” the elf said simply with a gravelly whisper. “Melisandre knows things, and I would like to understand how.” “And what is your name then?” Rosa asked smiling. “You may call me… ‘The Blade.’” Rosa tilted her head and looked at the elf with disbelief. “The…Blade?” Sage took a step forward toward the hooded figure and looked him up and down. “But you aren’t carrying one,” Sage pointed out. “I don’t understand your point,” came the figure’s reply. Sage was about to respond when the door opened again, the voice of a nervous Findo saying, “Ah…yes…food is in there Mobad…and drink I suppose.” Inside strode a grey skinned true blooded Orc. He moved directly to the table, drawing a short sword and sliced off a hunk of ham. He then stabbed it and brought it to his jaw where he tore off a chuck with his canines. He stood there chewing, and glared at the others before saying “Whut?” “Ah..well…help yourself Mobad,” Rosa said as the shock wore off. “I am.” And he shoved a chunk of ham into his mouth. [HR][/HR] The carriage pulled in next to the ‘The Drover’s Rest’ a human male with blonde hair stepped out and thanked the driver. and watched as the carraige pulled away. Taking his stick in hand, he looked at the coach as it pulled away. The man then looked around, and then quickly moved to the right side of the inn, and circled around it in the darkness. Finally, they found what they was looking for. There in the light of the windows, were a line of privies, and a brick lined path leading to the side entrance of the inn. The man made his way quietly over to the entrance and took a deep breath, before quietly opening it. The door, opened, admitting the grey and silver haired old woman. Doxx quickly shut the door, and then slowly made their way around the bar. They saw two distinct groupings of people. The first were ranchers and hunters, locally dressed in working clothing. The others were merchants on the road, looking to make business. Each sat apart from the other. As Doxx made their way around the bar, they noted the conversation were the same from both groups; the weather, and how the cattle drive was late. Neither was of interest. Doxx then spied a pair of doors, not far from the front entrance and close to the kitchen doors. They moved over and sat at the bar and was watching, when a halfling came out of the kitchen and spied them. “Ah yes, another guest. You are expect—” Findo started to say. The old woman turned their head and smiled. “—I doubt that sonny.” Findo frowned and his brows furrowed, “I was told that to expect an old woman, are you sure—” “—I am certainly not expected by anyone. But you do have another guest.” In the Inn’s doorway stood looking around uncertainly was a Warforged in a battered brown cloak. The halfling quickly made his way to him saying, “Ah, you are the other one, Captain—” “—Just…Bookshelf. Where am I…?” and looked and stared with curiosity at the old woman seated at the bar, when Findo waved at the Warforged to follow him. “This way, everyone is in the private dining room. Follow me please. Flinsa can you send a girl to tell Taryn that all but one of his new guests have arrived!” Findo said and he led Bookshelf to the dining room doors. All the while Doxx nodded to themselves. “Did that woman come back?” Flinsa asked. “Not that I’ve seen!” and Findo yelled before heading off to the kitchen. “Yeah one moment dear…whatcha want sweetie,” Flinsa waved at a one of the barmaids, who ran up the stairs and then she ran over to Doxx’s seat behind the bar. “Just some water…my stomach can’t handle the brew anymore,” Doxx said almost absently, as they watched the warforged entering the dinning room. “Sorry about that…we do have some milk that might settle your stom—” “—No…water. Milk gives me gas.” “Oh dear…did you need any thing then easy on the constitution…broth or boiled foul?” “No…but what’s with the side room over there?” Doxx asked. “Oh that? Private party for a Kundarak. All of them from out of town.” From Doxx’s left they heard a loud clambering down the stairs. Glancing over they saw a pair of dwarves dressed in Mrorian styled clothing and armor, and two Denieth Blademarks moving down the stairs. “—First the cows, now Melisandra, then Myrai, and now our missing guest. What else is going missing Debrika…don’t answer that! I don’t want to know.” Said the male Mror with short hair and cropped beard, followed by an armored dwarf female with a maul shaking her head. They both stood in front of the doors, and the Blademarks took position flanking the entrance. And with a deep breath, the male opened the door shouting with a smile. “Yes, yes good evening gentlefolk! I am Taryn d’Kundarak and I am—" when the door shut cutting his speech off. Doxx frowned. Perhaps they should have said they were expected, but that wouldn’t do if the real person arrived. They’d would have to bide their time and wait. “Here’s your water hon,” Flinsa said. And Doxx took an absent sip, when the doors to the dining room suddenly were flung open. The female dwarf had emerged, with her maul resting on her shoulder, and in her other hand she held a letter. She glanced around for a moment and locked her eyes on Doxx. She stomped over next to the old woman and looked at her scowling. “You are late,” she growled. “I’m sorry I don’t know—ACK!” Debrika had with a single arm swung her maul, shattering the stool the old woman was seated on, landing her flat on her back. The entire Inn grew quiet at the exchange. Debrika leaned down in a hush growl almost repeated herself. “You are late…Doxx,” and to the old woman’s surprise, Debrika dropped a letter on her chest. Doxx blinked and coughed, sitting up. And looked at the letter which said to their surprise ‘[B][I]To Doxx.’ [/I][/B]They ripped open the letter and read the contents in confusion: [CENTER][/CENTER] Doxx blinked in the silence of the Inn. They then coughed and stood, looking Debrika in the eye. “I think I know the way.” [B]Session Notes: [/B] First, this campaign was notable for having a number of people interest in writing stories about it. This first one contains one of and about the more than famous 'The Blade' by his player Ryan, who was kind enough to give me permission to repost. Second you wont find either Cattbron or Denning on the map of Eberron. But you will see some pictures on them in the next post. Third, Findo Gask the innkeeper. Findo Gask in reality is the name of a village in Scotland, which I have personally been through. However, the name has been appropriated multiple times, including by Terry Brooks (which no one realized when the name was used for that innkeeper.) Last, Doxx's introduction was convoluted. mostly because he was given the wrong draft of the intro letter which you all read now. So, an equally convoluted and ridiculous method of getting things on track was used. [/QUOTE]
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