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Broken Trust

Last post 03-30-2007, 2:41 AM by Twitch. 89 replies.
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  •  4/22/2006 4:50:40 PM 775354

    Broken Trust

    Okay,I've been wanting to play this campaign for awhile now.If you're interested in playing please PM me with basic info and a bio of the character you want to play.This is going to be a homebrew world (I will try and post a map in a bit) but will have the basic dieties,races and creatures of DnD.Oh,and to make it easier for me and prospective players...

     

    Blue = Out of Character

    Black = In Character

     

    Prologue

    Goodly heros have been called to aid the temple of Lathander in Tiber.The High Mornlord of the church,Devlin Mikal,has been brutally murdered by his own former squire.His sucessor,Meldrick Elchanan,has asked for aid in capturing the traitorous paladin and any accomplices she may have.He has promised much gold and prestige to any adventurer who is able to accomplish this task.Will you be up to it?

     

     


    Ever so slowly I slip into the depths of madness...
  •  4/22/2006 4:59:41 PM 775356 in reply to 775354

    Re: Broken Trust

    Can we have multiple characters?
    I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.
  •  4/22/2006 5:27:11 PM 775362 in reply to 775356

    Re: Broken Trust

    Cool, good to have you around Adre; for future reference we have signups in the Signup subforum to reduce clutter.
  •  4/22/2006 5:29:24 PM 775363 in reply to 775356

    Re: Broken Trust

    I don't think that's a good idea...

    and Adre, how is the game going to be? by the rules? or freepost?

    also what classes are you allowing?


    naruto
    Which Naruto Character Are You?
    Test by naruto - kun.com
  •  4/22/2006 5:53:54 PM 775370 in reply to 775363

    Re: Broken Trust

    @ Twitch Thanks for the tip.I now have a sign up thread at the Signup Forums.Sign up there and post any questions you may have.We will then start play here.


    Ever so slowly I slip into the depths of madness...
  •  4/24/2006 12:04:34 PM 775543 in reply to 775354

    Re: Broken Trust

    Might as well get things started...


    One week ago…

     

    Dirt.

     

    Dirt was everywhere, in his clothes, in his nose, in places he’d rather leave undescribed; the hot sand burned and the scraggly plants clawed at him with their brambles and thorns. A sharp rock tore at his side as he squirmed along the ground, his hands tied behind his back as he propelled himself forward like mad with his legs fueled on by fear, fear of what that beast did, what he would do.

     

    One week and twenty minutes ago…

     

    “Ah, it is good to be clean!” The bearded human chuckled as he poured an entire skin of water on his head, a fortune in this area where water was the most valuable resource, this place where men kill men over it; these men had and would again.

    The half-orc laughed at the human’s antics and took a swig from another skin, “You know some people drink that stuff?” he yelled at the human.

    ”Not unless we say they do!” came the elf who just finished counting up the last of the barrels.

     

    “How much did we get Tala’?” The man asked, the water already evaporating off his face even in the shade of their encampment in this desert wasteland.

     

    Talaheir sighed, he hated being called Tala; but these where the annoyances one had to put up with when in the company of lesser races. “One hundred and fifty gallons of pure, clean water; a very good haul.” The elf responded, any hint of irritation was well hidden.

     

    The half-orc hooted and danced around in a circle with the human as the elf chuckled at their antics. “That’s even better than last time, those idiots must have been working their arses off to gather all this!” the half-orc shouted. “And now they get to buy their own water back just like they did last time!” The man returned gleefully as they gazed at their hefty fortune of clear gold.

     

    “Or they can hire me and be done with it.” Came a gruff voice from behind where Talaheir stood. The three turned as one and saw the new comer, a great big hobgoblin armed to the teeth. His face was shrouded against the random sandstorms of the area with a head wrap and a black veil as was the custom of the people who made the dessert their home.

     

    The man drew his scimitar and stepped forward to stand near Talaheir as the half-orc readied his crescent bladed war axe. “An’ who the hell are you?”

     

    The hobgoblin dropped his veil and there was a clang behind the human; looking over his shoulder the half-orc had dropped his axe and was backing away slightly. “What? What is it Kargok?” he looked back to the snarling hobgoblin. “He’s heard of me.” And at that his hand snaked out with a loud crack as his whip snapped around the elf’s neck, he gave it a strong tug and Talaheir’s head smashed into the wagon the barrels sat in as he was ripped off his feet and tossed to the ground.

     

    With a scream the man charged up the rocky slope towards the bounty hunter, his sword raised high; he brought it around in a wide arc in line with the hobgoblin’s head but it never connected. With his left hand Snarl had drawn his custom made broad sword and caught the man’s sword in a cross hand parry, twisting the sword one of the many hooks on the blade gripped the man’s sword and wrenched it from his grasp letting it tumble to the ground. The man stared dumbly for a moment before catching the basket hilt of the hobgoblin’s sword with his nose; he tumbled to the ground as if he had no bones.

     

    Snarl stood up and looked down at the half-orc’s tracks, he wouldn’t get far… kneeling down he bound the unconscious man’s wrists and ran off in the direction Kargok had ran.

     

    It didn’t take long for him to catch up to where Lockjaw had gotten him, looks like this one wasn’t coming back alive… walking up he patted the giant wolf’s head and scratched behind his ears as in continued to chew on the half’orc’s left leg, or at least the half of it that had torn off…

     

     

    Talaheir looked dead the man thought as he squirmed on, no loss there but Kargok was a good friend. “I hope he managed to get away.” he muttered as he stopped to attempt to cut his rope bonds on a sharp rock. “Should have grabbed my sword.” The bonds loosened a bit and he rubbed faster laughing excitedly.

     

    “There you are…”

     

    The man’s eyes widened and he attempted to roll to his feet and make a run for it but the hobgoblin was too quick, the man was stopped in his tracks as a metal collar attached to a pole snapped around his neck and he was trapped. Using the pole to make him walk forward Snarl brought him back to the camp where he had loaded what was left of Kargok with the elf into the wagon.

     

    ****************

     

    It was a strange procession that marched back into the village the next morning, the stolen wagon of water pulled by a massive wolf lead by a hobgoblin holding a bearded man who could barely stand at the end of a stout pole.

     

    The people happily paid Snarl, they made pretense at wanting him to stay for a feast but where relieved when he declined after reading the message that had came for him, his services where needed once again, this time by a church…


  •  4/24/2006 3:39:33 PM 775571 in reply to 775543

    Re: Broken Trust

    Five days prior to the summons by the church...

          The sun slowly crested over the wide spread hills, slanting its rays towards the forest in the distance. This far out from the forest proper there wasn't much in the way of trees, but what few bushes, shrubs, and larger rocks that there were, provided ample cover for someone of Torbin's size. Standing up from his bedroll, Torbin ducked outside of the make-shift lean-to that he had fashioned from a heavy blanket, some long sticks, and the large boulder he was now standing next to. Slowly stretching his arms upwards, Torbin yawned lazily at the morning sun, and then set about stretching the rest of himself completely and properly. He had slept in his chain shirt all night, and though it didn't prevent him from getting some much needed rest it always felt uncomfortable, but not enough to warrant the risk of being caught in the middle of the night not wearing it. After he had been awake long enough to work out the scale-like impressions that remained from sleeping on something unrelenting for too long, it wasn’t even a nuisance.

       After completing his stretching, Torbin began to work himself out in earnest. Push-ups, crunches, squats, and even some chin-ups using his quarterstaff and two nearby rocks of sufficient height. Once he felt that he had worked enough of his muscles awake, Torbin gathered up his leather helm and arm wraps, and started off at a jogging pace towards the north. He slapped his helm on immediately, and then set about wrapping his palms, wrists, and arms up to his elbows in his worn but clean white cloth wraps. Even though he was jogging along, and over extremely uneven footing, the attention with which he wrapped his arms was that of a meticulous artist. Once completed though, Torbin took the time to look about him and take in the scenery. The sun was well on its way up now, and the Etherian forest could be clearly seen as its nightly mists began evaporating in the morning warmth. This appeared to be such a nice place to settle down and live life.  But appearances could be deceiving, and Torbin didn't have even the slightest desire to settle down just yet.

       After a good hour long jog, Torbin came to a halt atop a particularly tall hill. Near the peak of the hill, the ground fell away, forming a small cliff face that was easily fifteen feet in height. Not too bad for someone of average human height, a little bit further for a gnome. Looking over the edge, Torbin saw a large opening about ten feet high, and wide enough to roll a stagecoach through without scraping the wheel hubs. Around the entrance of this cave there were a number of animal carcasses, with the occasional piece of broken hand-worked wood, or even a glint of metal. Taking a whiff of the air, Torbin mulled the scents over in his head, sniffed again, and then looked slightly surprised. The big oaf hasn't left yet. Guess I'll just wait here. And so, dangling his legs over the side of the little cliff, Torbin picked up a few stones that he began to toss back and forth in his hands in a poor attempt to juggle, and waited.

       Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. After about ten minutes, a loud thud echoed out from the cave, and the sound of loud shuffling followed. Standing, Torbin stopped playing with the stones and held all but one of them in his left hand. Looking over the side, Torbin waited as the shuffling sound came closer and closer to the entrance of the cave. Then, slowly and cautiously, the unmistakable large, bulbous head of an ogre appeared from within. The hair from its head down to the base of its elongated neck was knotted and matted, and from Torbin's perch, had a smell that could only be described as vomit extract. Grimacing at the noxious odors now wafting up from below, Torbin held his place until the ogre was completely out in open. Then, rearing back with his right hand Torbin hurled one of the small stones he had been holding at the back of the ogre's head. With a soft thump the rock impacted, and then rolled down to get lost in the locks of putrid hair. Spinning quite swiftly for ten foot tall beast made mostly of fat, the ogre had a look of both surprise and confusion when all he saw behind and above him was a three-foot-tall gnome.

       "Nice morning for walk, isn't it fur-brain?", Torbin said in the giant-tongue, with a sly grin all the while. "Why just an hour ago, I got up and felt like a jog. And it was such a nice jog too. That is of course until I caught a whiff of this cave. I swear, you can smell it from a mile in every direction."

       The ogre looked straight up at Torbin, brandishing a very large looking club that was easily seven feet long, that Torbin hadn't noticed earlier. The ogre’s mouth split into a disgusting grin, showing that a full third of its teeth were missing and, at the same time, releasing an odor so foul that everything Torbin had scented up to that point, paled in comparison.

       "You will squish real good, little gnome. Then you be my breakfast."

       Torbin almost felt like losing yesterday's breakfast by the time the ogre stopped talking. Trying to waft the smell away with his hands, he even coughed a little. Looking down once more, he flicked another rock at the smelly beast’s gut, before continuing his well prepared speech. "I don't suppose you've been harassing any gnomish communities lately, have you? Perhaps causing trouble for halfling caravans passing through?"

       The ogre’s grin diminished slightly, and the first look of concern began to creep over his face. "Why, little gnome? Do you come with many gnomes to try and stop Bograt?"

       Torbin dropped the remaining stones on the ground next to his feet. He was becoming bored with his speech, and had decided to just jump to the end. "Actually, Bograt, no. I haven't brought any gnomes with me. In fact, I haven't brought anyone with me."

       The ogre's grin grew suddenly into a belly laugh, as he slapped at his knee. When he was done, he looked back up at the silly gnome standing above him. "Then little gnome, tell Bograt why you be so stupid and come to Bograt's home alone."

       Torbin's grin slid completely off his face at the ogre's last statement. Stupid, huh? "My name is Torbin Giantfeller. My clan has made its name as being premier problem solvers. And considering that the majority of problems in our communities that need outside assistance are giant related, well, the name speaks for itself. And on behalf of the gnome community of Badger Hollow, I bring a message."

      Once again the ogre, was frowning, and raising his club as if to readying to use it. "Oh, little gnome? And what message you bring?"

       Torbin grinned again as he cracked his knuckles, and took a deep breath, focusing himself. "This." And with a mighty yell, he flung himself at the very surprised looking ogre, arms wide and at the ready.

    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

       In less than two minutes, it was all over. The massive club lay on the ground where the ogre had dropped it before even getting in a swing. Bograt himself lay on his front before the cave entrance, a look of angry shock frozen on his face. His head was cocked to one side at an angle that said to even the untrained eye that his massive neck had been snapped, and his tongue lolled out of his broken jaw in a most lifeless of ways. From inside the cave, came the rattling of metal, and the sound of piles of unseen things being toppled, as Torbin set about reclaiming that which had been taken.

    (OOC: Comments? Compliments? Criticism? Private messages welcomed.)


    "Apparently getting your ass kicked is now part of a complete breakfast." - Roy Greenhilt, Order Of The Stick


    - An Answerer of questions, and Questioner of answers.
  •  4/24/2006 5:53:08 PM 775584 in reply to 775571

    Re: Broken Trust

    ((Son of a ***. I wrote a superlong intro post, but then it logged me out... Grrr... Anyways, I guess you'll meet Shaala when you get to Tiber then.))
    I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.
  •  4/25/2006 2:52:45 PM 775656 in reply to 775584

    Re: Broken Trust

      Okay,I'm going to go ahead and write the intro to the city for you guys.

     

    Rain was falling over the city.Although this event was not uncommon for summertime Tiber,the atmosphere most certainly was.There was tension in the air and a certain feeling of hopelessness.The watchmen reflexively gripped weapons at the slightest hint of distrubance and the people eyed each other suspciously beneath rain-sodden cloaks.Everywhere,posters depicted the face of a young woman in her mid-twenties with chesnut hair and penetrating blue eyes.Included on the posters were a list of her crimes.

    Murder...treachery...espionage.

    The people were afraid and as you entered the city,their fear focused on you.


    Ever so slowly I slip into the depths of madness...
  •  4/25/2006 3:28:43 PM 775658 in reply to 775656

    Re: Broken Trust

    A hooded and cloaked figure eyed one of the posters cynically.
    I'd love to hear her side of the story. Shaala thought to herself. It might well be what it seemed, that a paladin had murdered her superior, and was now fleeing the the law. But she doubted it. Appearances were often decieving. Those words had become something of a creed for the young drow, who had learned quickly and unpleasantly that people who looked like her were not to be trusted, and often met with hostility, if not violence. And thus, she was always wrapped in her cloak, covering as muck of her black skin as she could, even on a nice day such as this (And as far as Shaala was concerned, it was a nice day- after only a year on the surface, rain was still something of a novelty to her, and she enjoyed it imensely.) Though she was not strong, she was smart, retaining everything she heard or saw, and fast. She hoped that would be enough to find and capture or kill this rogue paladin. Her initial feeling, that there was more to this that there seemed to be, remained. But she couldn't afford to fuss with the motive- a crime had been commited, this woman was definately the culprit, wasn't that enough? Shaala had commited herself to this course of action, she couldn't second guess herself now.

     After all, she needed the money. Times had been hard for her, even after she escaped slavery and reached the surface. For the first few months, she had scraped a living in slums, stealing what she needed to survive. Her only joy came from reading in the library, once she finally learned how. Eventually, she got a job working for a gnomish inventor, who had discovered that Shaala had a natural talent for all things mechanical. Shaala had been happy there, discovering how much she enjoyed building things. But a few months ago, the inventor had to let her go, as many were deterred by the slender drow, though she had done nothing wrong. Lately, she had been hard pressed to even find work using her other talents, as even crimals hesitated to deal with a dark elf.

    And besides, she thought with a wry smile, this might even make me "respectable".


    I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.
  •  4/25/2006 4:26:38 PM 775664 in reply to 775658

    Re: Broken Trust

    The lone figure wrapped its drab cloak tighter as it trudged up the rain slicked road, pools of murky water gathered in the numerous ruts and trenches in the muddy highway caused by the bustling merchant carts that passed him by even now. The wheels and lowing oxen splashing up more filth onto the soaked hooded creature; the drivers didn’t even give him a second glance, in their eyes he was just more filth.

     

    Leather creaked and metal chimed as Rutgar pulled the cloak ever tighter, he disliked venturing into cities for to long; the walls kept the wind out so there was always a foul stench settled over the filthy place and that wasn’t even the worst part. The people, that was the worst part; in his line of work he’s met all kinds of scum but some of the worst where the ones that walked free and in power; sure some lout on the street might decided to pick a fight with him because of his appearance… why he feels he needs to have his face smashed in Rutgar didn’t know but at least once the fight was over he would buy him a drink. It’s the ones who feel better than everyone else, the ones with their noses so high in the air they can’t smell their own stench. Part of the reason he hated elves so much, they where all like that…

     

    Rutgar looked back towards the woods and picked out a pair of yellow eyes watching him from the bushes, they wouldn’t even allow Lockjaw in the city… lucky mutt.

     

    (I don’t know if you want to handle this little exchange or not so I will list a scenario for sake of speed and if you should want to redo it Adre then by all means forget what happens here.)

     

    The guards stiffened at the cloaked figure’s approach and eyed the obvious weapons sticking out such as the spear, crossbow, and man-catcher pole while their imagination went wild about what they couldn’t see.

     

    Dropping his hood the two spearman stepped back in unison.

     

    The guard on the left prodded his partner who shook his head, the left hand guard then turned to the scarred Hobgoblin and started in a cracking voice. “State your-“ he cut himself off and squared his shoulders, after clearing his throat and looking at his partner as if to dare him to laugh he began again in a firmer voice. “State your business.”

     

    “I’m a bounty hunter, I was sent this…” Rutgar held out the folded letter.

     

    Letting go of his spear with one had the guard took it gently and read it, the second guard had leaned over to see what it was. After inspecting the seal they handed it back and nodded to the Hobgoblin. “Welcome to Tiber, you will be expected to follow the laws and keep your weapons sheathed while in the city; inns and taverns are on the eastern side… I suggest the Dancing Satyr, clean beds, good food, um… appealing service; tell ‘em Arold and Daith sent you, that’s us.” He chuckled nervously, and his partner grinned, they where both promised a percentage from every customer they sent the Dancing Satyr’s way.

     

    “And the Temple of Lathander?” Rutgar asked.

     

    “The temple of the Morninglord can be found just up the main street, third stone building past the first intersection.”

    “Second.” Piped in the other guard.

    “What?”

    “It’s the second building not the third, the second building is part of it.”

    “Yes but they aren’t connected so you need to go to the third building for the main temple.”

    “I was just sayin’”

    “Do you get up every morning to pray at the temple of Lathander?”

    “What? before dawn? That’s a bit early for prayin’ don’t you think?”

    “He’s the bloody Morninglord; you have to get up before dawn, that’s the whole point, he ain’t the mid afternoon after a cup of tea lord.”

     

    They noticed Rutgar still standing there eyeing them.

     

    “Ah yes, it’s the building with the big rising sun; can’t miss it.”

     

    With a nod the Hobgoblin walked in past the two guards and into the city proper. Walking along the main street he made note of the numerous wanted posters much like the one he received through currier earlier that week. Standing at the crossroads he stopped and thought about stopping at the inn and cleaning up first before going to the temple.

  •  4/25/2006 6:51:04 PM 775673 in reply to 775664

    Re: Broken Trust

    Shaala

    As you continue to study the poster,a voice interrupts your musings.

    "Excuse me,miss,are you one of the bounty hunters?"

    You turn to see a sandy-haired man wearing the armour of a paladin leaning against the city wall,his pale grey eyes studying you as he awaits your answer.

     

    Rutgar

    While you are deciding about wether or not to stop at the Dancing Satyr,a young boy approaches you.Apparently word travels fast in this city as he wears the clothing of a squire of Lathander.He looks to be utterly terrified of you but swallows the fear long enough to deliver a message, albeit a studdering,halting one.

    "Sir,th...the High Mornlord kindly requests for you to appear at the Temple of L...Lathander tomorrow morning....D...do you consent?

    He shifts nervously,looking ready to break and run in an instant.


    Ever so slowly I slip into the depths of madness...
  •  4/25/2006 7:07:55 PM 775675 in reply to 775673

    Re: Broken Trust

    Well, best get this out of the way. Shaala drew back her hood, revealing her sharp, dark elven features. Her snow white hair was pulled back in a low pony tail, with two large sections falling into her face. Her too-large, slightly mournful silver eyes locked with his.

    "Yes, I am." She said softly, but firmly, studying his face for a reaction to her appearance.


    I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.
  •  4/25/2006 7:08:58 PM 775676 in reply to 775664

    Re: Broken Trust

    Pulling the hood of his cloak a little tighter against the rain, Torbin hurried along as quickly as his small legs would carry him. It wasn't that the rain was all that hard as to cause him to hurry, but rather how the bigger folk got whenever it rained. Especially those that lived in the city, and were thus accustomed to a certain degree of comfort. In any kind of rains, larger people tended to lose focus on the world around them, and that usually meant bad news for anyone small enough to slip beneath their direct line of sight. Torbin had already scuttled around three people, and then bumped into two more who were huddled so close as to leave him nowhere to dodge to, without going face first into a gutter. And that was one of the other reasons that Torbin hurried. The streets and gutters that were normally filled with dirt and the occasional bit of muck, now flowed gently with indescribable things of all sorts. A mess that defied classification, as well as produced some of the most horrific mixtures of odors that anyone could even think of. At times, it even made Torbin wish he hadn't inherited such a fine scent of smell from his mother.

       Jumping aside just as man pushing a cart was about to run him clean over, Torbin lost his footing in something slick and black on the street, which tossed him onto his side as he slid out into the middle of the road. Torbin was cursing himself as started to pick himself up off the road, when he heard sound most city dwelling, little folk are taught to identify childhood. Horse hooves. Looking behind him, Torbin was greeted by the sight of a large, and heavy-set horse not three feet from his face. Springing from a kneel, Torbin managed to roll out of the way just as the large horse, and the doubly large wagon that it was hauling, rolled right over where he had just been only a moment before. For Torbin's trouble, the wagon driver spotted him, then shook his fat, human fist at him, and shouted something about staying out of the road.

       Grumbling to himself in earnest now, Torbin stood up quickly, only to bump into yet something else. Looking up, Torbin found that he had again been hit by a passerby, albeit this one seemed to be carrying a small arsenal beneath its cloak, as well as outside of it. At the top of it all, Torbin was mildly surprised to catch a glimpse of what appeared to be a heavily scarred hobgoblin face, looking back down at him.

       "What? You never seen a water-logged gnome before?" The hobgoblin merely continued to stare at Torbin as he wandered back over to gather his now sopping backpack from the street's edge, mumbling under his breath the whole way. "Pfft. They'll let just about anything through the gates I suppose. Oh and this is just votcher. It's going to take a week to dry this crud out." Fishing into a pocket on the side of the pack, Torbin withdrew something small, in the palm of his hand. After slinging the drenched pack over a shoulder, he scanned down the other side of the road for the cart man. Quickly finding his mark, Torbin scanned quickly and inconspicuously to his left and right, and satisfied that no one was paying any undo attention to the small, soaked gnome on the street corner, hurled the small pebble he had, as hard and true as he could. Turning and heading off down street before he even heard the satisfying shout of exclamation from the cart man, Torbin smiled to himself about his little piece of justice. Now, he thought to himself, to find someplace to dry out.

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

       Letting his gear slosh to floor in front of the main fireplace of the "Twisted Ferret", Torbin was fairly certain that no one was going to be messing with it, least of all the strange smell it had seemed to pick up during its brief moments in the Tiberian streets. Hanging his sopping cloak next to the fire as well, Torbin tried to be as non-chalant as gnome who was soak to his skivvies in street water could be. The "Twisted Ferret" wasn't a very large establishment, and it wasn't completely due to the fact that it catered to the smaller folk, but that was most of it. As Torbin entered the common room of the tavern inn, he was greeted by the pleasant sights, and sweet smells, that the wandering man calls home. The bulk of the clientele were gnomes, halflings, with the occasional dwarf seated about the room, but there were larger races as well. A handful of humans and half-elfs could be seen in the far corner of the room, kneeling on the floor playing some sort of game of chance with dice.

       Just as Torbin entered, he was greeted by the sweet sound of wood flute, as gnomish bard on a raised platform in the center of the wall opposite the bar, struck up a merry little tune. Many gnomes and halflings alike left their seats and benches, to come and dance in small cleared space in front of the bard's platform. With the addition of the music, the volume of every conversation in the room increased, but not so much as to drown out the performance. Suddenly, the doors to the kitchen flew open as young gnome girl came scuttling out with a tray of hot meats and bread, and Torbin tried to inhale every last bit of it. It had been too long since he had visited a proper tavern, namely because the best ones were in the bigger cities, but a good tavern was civilization's way of making up for big cities in Torbin's mind. Strolling up to the bar, he was granted by a gnome with a full head of shaggy blonde hair, and small black goatee, wearing an apron with a mug in one hand and a dish towel in the other.

       "What'll you have my wet friend?"

       Torbin grinned as he slid up to the bar in front of the tender, "One Gut-Rock, followed with a plate of bread and cheese, a bowl of girnt soup, and mug of mulled wine." The bartender gave Torbin a quick wink and a nod. Reaching under the bar, the other gnome pulled out a glass tumbler, and two bottles, which he shook vigorously, one in each hand. He then poured equal amounts of the liquids into the small glass, their green and amber colors mixing into a dull brown. To finish it off, he reached into a clay jar on the back wall and produced two pieces of rock sugar, which he then ceremoniously plunked into the concoction, causing it to fizz slightly.

       "There ya go, one Gut-Rock. I'll have someone bring your meal over to you."

       Torbin thanked the gnome with a smile, and flipped him two silver pieces. Picking up his drink he took a large waft of it before drinking, as was customary with most gnomish drinks, then kicked it all back in a single gulp but still managing to catch the rock sugar in his teeth to chew on for a while. Setting the glass back on the bar, Torbin heard a familiar female voice from behind him.

       "Well, well. Imagine my finding you here. Eh, Tor-boo?"

       If he hadn't recognized the voice, he would never have missed the name. Only two people in the world ever called him by that name, and his mother was home in the family burrow. Turning, Torbin found a female halfling, of average halfling height, looking up at him with bright blue eyes that were framed by multitude bright red braids of hair. She had on a Bright green dress, that was embroidered with oranges and reds, as if trying to give the appearance of a natural horizon The look on her face, as she crossed her arms and tapped her foot, was one of faux-surprise.

       "Kordy. Its nice to see you too. And as to finding me here, well, this is where you told me to meet you."

       Kordy's face split into a warm grin. "Yah, so it is." Pulling herself up onto a barstool next to him, she leaned onto the bar and waved for the bartender. "So what brings you to Tiber, friend? Last I checked, we didn't have much a Giant infestation. Or can you just not get enough of me and my wonderful family?"

       Torbin rolled his eyes and gave a mock groan, remembering the antics that had transpired with him and her 'family', the last time he was in town. "You know, one of these days the town watch is going to wise up, and then you and your little group of sticky-fingers could find more that fancy bracelets around your wrists." He smiled at the look of shock, mixed with the urge to laugh out loud, crossed Kordy's face. The only thing that probably kept her was that his food arrived, and the bartender was there to take her drink order. After the gnome had left again, and Torbin had started in his bread and cheese, he pulled a soggy piece of folded paper from his pocket and tossed it to Kordy. "That is what brings me. I found it posted in a bar by the road about two days walk north. And I have seen a fair many more since I got into town."

       Kordy nodded as she got the paper carefully unfolded. On it was the picture of a paladin wanted by city officials, along with a list of crimes, and promise of reward. "Oh yeah, they went up about a week or so ago. Big hubbub about it and all, at least down in the temple district. But this sort of thing isn't you're usual fare. Is the old trade of giant-felling losing its sparkle?"

       Torbin shook his head carefully as he took a drink of his wine. "No, nothing like that. It's just that giant slaying is exactly the best paying work. And it's not exactly a steady job either. All giant slayers need a way to keep making ends meet, and so I figured why not take up something that pays good, but still gives me something challenging to do?" He popped another piece of bread and cheese into his mouth before continuing. "So that's why I sent you the message. And the question still stands. Before I go and get myself mixed up in any of this, what could can you tell me?"

       Kordy nodded thoughtfully, as if thinking over his request. Then, after finishing off her mug of ale, she turned back to him with a smile. "Tor-boo, my big brother, I'll tell you everything that's happened since you left, just so long as the drinks keep comin'." Torbin smirked, and chuckled to himself as he turned around and raised a hand to flag down the bartender once more.

     

     

    (OOC: Damn, I didn't realize how long this got until I had finished!)


    "Apparently getting your ass kicked is now part of a complete breakfast." - Roy Greenhilt, Order Of The Stick


    - An Answerer of questions, and Questioner of answers.
  •  4/25/2006 7:20:32 PM 775677 in reply to 775673

    Re: Broken Trust

    It's good though Firespark, I enjoy reading your posts.


    Rutgar eyes the human child a moment and finally nods, “I will be there.”

     

    Turning from the boy he heads off to the east for the Dancing Satyr, the stout building of wood and stone is marked by the gently swaying wooden sign depicting a frolicking humanoid figure with goat’s legs and horns playing pan pipes. The buildings hazy windows glow brightly and forms can be seen moving about as the Hobgoblin stepped under the awning at the front door, shaking off his cloak he rolled it up and stuffed it into his travel sack before stepping inside.


    **************

    The door to the dancing Satyr creaked open and a gust of cold air blew in as a large figure stepped in out of the street and into the light. The half-elf playing the lute stopped abruptly and everyone stared at the hobgoblin as he walked towards the bar without even paying them a second glance, some one shouted “the stables are around back fur ball!” which was met with a chorus of laughs, the hobgoblin ignored it and continued on over to the inn keeper .

     

    The man behind the counter was a portly man; he wore an apron and was armed with a towel and a mug as seemed to be standard issue for owning a tavern. The proprietor rubbed his bald head as he looked Rutgar up and down, “Sorry mate, we’re all full up for the night, you’re gonna have ta go.” His lies where obvious and not surprising to the hobgoblin. “The entire towns full, go sleep in a cave where you belong; this place is for civilized folk!” The heckler shouted out.

     

    Ignoring the man he dropped a heavy pouch on the counter with a loud *clink* and looked back at the Inn keeper who was now starting to sweat.

     

    “I was told to tell you Arold and Daith sent me.” The hobgoblin said in a low voice, almost a growl.

     

    The innkeeper’s hand, which had been creeping towards the pouch stopped short at the growl.

     

    “Ah, yes, is th’that so… alright then I, I suppose I might be able to find space…” Reaching down with one hand he fumbled for his ledger without taking his eyes off the hobgoblin, pulling it up he attempted to put on his glasses… by the third time he was able to set them on his face, he flipped through and without even looking said. “Oh, oh look, silly me; seems I double booked this person, seems there isn’t anyone in room fourteen… all yours if you want it.” He chuckled nervously and looked at the pouch of coins.

    “Sev-“

    “Three.” Rutgar interrupted.

    “Three silver a night.” He finished.

    “Here.” Rutgar placed a gold piece on the counter; the inn keeper looked at him quizzically. “I’ll take a large helping of whatever it is your cooking back there and a pitcher of mead to wash it down.”

     

    The innkeeper nodded and handed him his room key; taking his money pouch with him he headed up the stairs and down the hall to his room. The room was bare bones, there was a bed, a stool, and a shuttered window; it was all he needed anyway. Depositing most of his weapons and armor he headed back down stairs for his meal. The minstrel had taken up playing again and the novelty of the hobgoblins arrival seemed to have worn off for the most part. A serving maid reluctantly came over and placed a heaping bowl of beef stew and an entire gallon pitcher of mead onto the table before retreating back to the kitchen.

     

    As he was settling in eating and drinking a tall red haired man came and sat down across from him, “What are you still doing here?” he said as he leaned in, “We don’t want you around here, nobody does.” He sneered, his foul breath reeking of cheap ale. Rutgar ate another mouthful of stew, placed down his fork, then cleanly cold cocked the drunken man sending him sprawling backwards onto the floor behind him and then went back to eating as if nothing had even happened.


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