Yair
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This is my first attempt at writing a story hour for the boards. If someone likes it, I'll continue 
The first post is of part of the first session of my current campaign. Enjoy.
The weak pat on his shoulder, the aloof Calisian accent.... is it really?... Lorion turns around and stares at the flamboyantly dressed figure in front of him. “J! What are you doing here?! Come, sit.” He motions at the stool next to his. “I thought you were still in Jingleheim, in Calisia.”
Jatun Berouvaux sits down, a pleased smile on his face. “No, not anymore. I'm in the entourage of Baroness Talana Utaraux herself. In fact - I'm here as her personal envoy.” He practically beams with pride.
Lorion whistles appreciatively. “That's great, J. But - what business does the baroness have with this small place?” He motions at Bretta's Inn around them, seemingly encompassing with his gesture the entire small village.
“Oh, no, no, no.” J shakes his head jovially. “Not here. In Caer Haunwan. You see... you know that scoundrel, that knave, that arrogant Sir Janus Haunwan? The baron's son?”
Lorion, sitting as he is but a day's ride from the baron's castle and the seat of his power, squirms uncomfortably and glances around before answering. “Yes...” he says worriedly, raising his beer for a sip.
“Well, he was murdered last night.”
Somehow, the beer ends up at Lorion's nostrils. “WHAT?!” A wave of murmurs and concerned looks passes over the crowed at the inn. Even a crow, picking on crackers on the bar, seems to turn a curious ear to the conversation.
“Of course” Jatun waves his hands dismissively, “that's the GOOD news.”
Lorion smiles meekly as the murmuring grows louder and several solidly built farmers approach with menacing glares. “Friends? Us? Naaahhhh, distant acquaintances, I barely know him.”
Jatun ignores the commotion like a true noble. “I've been riding day and night to reach Caer Haunwan as soon as possible. Still, I'm surprised the news didn't beat me to here. The baron's herald should be coming to recruit militia any time now...” he sends a look beyond the inn's doors, as if he could see anything past the gathering crowed.
“Militia?” asks Lorion, joined by a growing number of hardened farmers.
“Why, yes. That boar of a baron, Haunwan, is blaming it all on the glorious Sir Laudwig Utaraux. That's the bad news, see. He is postponing the trial until he can assemble his militia - he expects baroness Utaraux to attack him should he kill her son.” Jatun casually picks up Lorion's beer, takes a sip, then lowers it in disgust. “Rightly so, I must say.”
With astounding speed, the crowed disperses through the doors amidst calls of “to arms!” and “I'm gonna hill me some Calisian skum!”.
Lorion watches them leave, and leans on the bar as he surveys the remaining patrons of the inn. “Yes”, he says half-mindedly, “I'd do the same if I were her... ehm... Jatun, old friend, what do you say we'll talk it over in a more... private place? Like my room?”
Someone says something about two Calisian strangers meeting and immediately going up to do private things in the hotel room. Lorion ignores him.
“Why certainly, dear Lorion, certainly.” Jatun turns to the bartender. “Garsoun!”
Nervously, Lorion snaps at him “what do you want with the bartender NOW?!”
“Why my dear sir”, answers Jatun all aghast, “wine!”
------
“Sicil, you guard the door, I'll chat him up”. He glares at Jatun, that is struggling to get the bottle open.
“Right.”
“So...” Lorion sits across Jatun “what exactly are you doing in all of this, Jatun?”
“The baroness sent me to aid her son in his trial, dear Lorion. She said she has 'outmost confidence' that I my silver tongue will be able to show those Launhymian skum their folly and free her wrongly accused son. 'Outmost confidence'!” He raises a triumphant bottle and drinks to it. “Ehm... strong stuff... but good.” He takes another sip.
“Yes... silver tongue... outmost confidence... I'm sure.... still, is that ALL what she wants you to do?”
“Well, she did give me a letter to present at trial should I fail, and before the execution. But I'm sure that won't be necessary.” He waves it away. “Come to think of it, Lorion, it is a good omen that I've run into you. I've always said you've got a talent with the peasants. Perhaps you'd like to aid me win them over?”
Lorion looks at Jatun's heavy satchel lying to his side, mentally counting the gold it holds. I wonder if it's platinum coins?
“Oh sure”, says Sicil, motioning Lorion in the satchel's direction, “we'll be GLAD to assist you.”
Lorion glares at him, then returns his attention to Jatun. “Yes, of course. Of course. But perhaps you could fill us in on exactly what happened? Why is Sir Laudwig blamed? Was he even in the city?”
“Oh, I'm afraid he was. He was trying to convince the baron to burn his northern fields, so the orcs wouldn't be able to raid them. Lord Haunwan is most insensibly unwilling to listen.”
“Did Laudwig do it?” Lorion asks worriedly.
“Why, of course not!” Jatun admonishes him. “He would have never been caught if he did!”
“Good point.” concedes Lorion. “Hmm... why are they blaming him?”
“Oh, they say they have some witnesses. Launhymian scum, liars all no doubt” Jatun waves the matter away, and sips from the bottle again. He looks at Lorion again, and a curious look crosses his face. “Say, Lorion, you've been around Launhym for a while... is it usual here for a raven to be knocking on the window?”
“No.” says Lorion. “Who are these witnesses? What did they say happen?”
“Oh, I really don't know, Lorion. That's just... not interesting.” He waves it off, taking another sip, and blinks. “Say, Lorion... is it common here for large eagles bearing tiny women riders to be knocking on windows?” A large clank is heard as the window nearly shatters from the eagle's beak.
“No!” answers Lorion as he swirls back, drawing his pistol. In a moment he relaxes, and opens the window. “Amy! I didn't recognize you with your cloths on.”
Sicil blinks. “With HER TOO?!!”
Lorion shrugs. “It was dark, I was lonely.”
“Never happened.” Amyrillis says coldly.
Sicil shakes his head, unwilling to understand. “Yeah, but with an EAGLE?”
“REALLY dark” answers Lorion, “REALLY lonely.”
-----
The first post is of part of the first session of my current campaign. Enjoy.
The weak pat on his shoulder, the aloof Calisian accent.... is it really?... Lorion turns around and stares at the flamboyantly dressed figure in front of him. “J! What are you doing here?! Come, sit.” He motions at the stool next to his. “I thought you were still in Jingleheim, in Calisia.”
Jatun Berouvaux sits down, a pleased smile on his face. “No, not anymore. I'm in the entourage of Baroness Talana Utaraux herself. In fact - I'm here as her personal envoy.” He practically beams with pride.
Lorion whistles appreciatively. “That's great, J. But - what business does the baroness have with this small place?” He motions at Bretta's Inn around them, seemingly encompassing with his gesture the entire small village.
“Oh, no, no, no.” J shakes his head jovially. “Not here. In Caer Haunwan. You see... you know that scoundrel, that knave, that arrogant Sir Janus Haunwan? The baron's son?”
Lorion, sitting as he is but a day's ride from the baron's castle and the seat of his power, squirms uncomfortably and glances around before answering. “Yes...” he says worriedly, raising his beer for a sip.
“Well, he was murdered last night.”
Somehow, the beer ends up at Lorion's nostrils. “WHAT?!” A wave of murmurs and concerned looks passes over the crowed at the inn. Even a crow, picking on crackers on the bar, seems to turn a curious ear to the conversation.
“Of course” Jatun waves his hands dismissively, “that's the GOOD news.”
Lorion smiles meekly as the murmuring grows louder and several solidly built farmers approach with menacing glares. “Friends? Us? Naaahhhh, distant acquaintances, I barely know him.”
Jatun ignores the commotion like a true noble. “I've been riding day and night to reach Caer Haunwan as soon as possible. Still, I'm surprised the news didn't beat me to here. The baron's herald should be coming to recruit militia any time now...” he sends a look beyond the inn's doors, as if he could see anything past the gathering crowed.
“Militia?” asks Lorion, joined by a growing number of hardened farmers.
“Why, yes. That boar of a baron, Haunwan, is blaming it all on the glorious Sir Laudwig Utaraux. That's the bad news, see. He is postponing the trial until he can assemble his militia - he expects baroness Utaraux to attack him should he kill her son.” Jatun casually picks up Lorion's beer, takes a sip, then lowers it in disgust. “Rightly so, I must say.”
With astounding speed, the crowed disperses through the doors amidst calls of “to arms!” and “I'm gonna hill me some Calisian skum!”.
Lorion watches them leave, and leans on the bar as he surveys the remaining patrons of the inn. “Yes”, he says half-mindedly, “I'd do the same if I were her... ehm... Jatun, old friend, what do you say we'll talk it over in a more... private place? Like my room?”
Someone says something about two Calisian strangers meeting and immediately going up to do private things in the hotel room. Lorion ignores him.
“Why certainly, dear Lorion, certainly.” Jatun turns to the bartender. “Garsoun!”
Nervously, Lorion snaps at him “what do you want with the bartender NOW?!”
“Why my dear sir”, answers Jatun all aghast, “wine!”
------
“Sicil, you guard the door, I'll chat him up”. He glares at Jatun, that is struggling to get the bottle open.
“Right.”
“So...” Lorion sits across Jatun “what exactly are you doing in all of this, Jatun?”
“The baroness sent me to aid her son in his trial, dear Lorion. She said she has 'outmost confidence' that I my silver tongue will be able to show those Launhymian skum their folly and free her wrongly accused son. 'Outmost confidence'!” He raises a triumphant bottle and drinks to it. “Ehm... strong stuff... but good.” He takes another sip.
“Yes... silver tongue... outmost confidence... I'm sure.... still, is that ALL what she wants you to do?”
“Well, she did give me a letter to present at trial should I fail, and before the execution. But I'm sure that won't be necessary.” He waves it away. “Come to think of it, Lorion, it is a good omen that I've run into you. I've always said you've got a talent with the peasants. Perhaps you'd like to aid me win them over?”
Lorion looks at Jatun's heavy satchel lying to his side, mentally counting the gold it holds. I wonder if it's platinum coins?
“Oh sure”, says Sicil, motioning Lorion in the satchel's direction, “we'll be GLAD to assist you.”
Lorion glares at him, then returns his attention to Jatun. “Yes, of course. Of course. But perhaps you could fill us in on exactly what happened? Why is Sir Laudwig blamed? Was he even in the city?”
“Oh, I'm afraid he was. He was trying to convince the baron to burn his northern fields, so the orcs wouldn't be able to raid them. Lord Haunwan is most insensibly unwilling to listen.”
“Did Laudwig do it?” Lorion asks worriedly.
“Why, of course not!” Jatun admonishes him. “He would have never been caught if he did!”
“Good point.” concedes Lorion. “Hmm... why are they blaming him?”
“Oh, they say they have some witnesses. Launhymian scum, liars all no doubt” Jatun waves the matter away, and sips from the bottle again. He looks at Lorion again, and a curious look crosses his face. “Say, Lorion, you've been around Launhym for a while... is it usual here for a raven to be knocking on the window?”
“No.” says Lorion. “Who are these witnesses? What did they say happen?”
“Oh, I really don't know, Lorion. That's just... not interesting.” He waves it off, taking another sip, and blinks. “Say, Lorion... is it common here for large eagles bearing tiny women riders to be knocking on windows?” A large clank is heard as the window nearly shatters from the eagle's beak.
“No!” answers Lorion as he swirls back, drawing his pistol. In a moment he relaxes, and opens the window. “Amy! I didn't recognize you with your cloths on.”
Sicil blinks. “With HER TOO?!!”
Lorion shrugs. “It was dark, I was lonely.”
“Never happened.” Amyrillis says coldly.
Sicil shakes his head, unwilling to understand. “Yeah, but with an EAGLE?”
“REALLY dark” answers Lorion, “REALLY lonely.”
-----
