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It is a dark time, with every nation so engrossed in their own political squabbles that war has reduced large nations to multitudes of city states. The major religious factions fight amongst themselves for theological dominance, while the minor ones operate in secret hoping not to be noticed. Not a month goes by without one capital burning to the ground or another declaring independence (sometimes the same one doing both). The larger of the city states are only so because of the constant flow of refugees and immigrants from city to city, hoping for better lives, or at the very least, a place to sleep.
One such city is Torma. From what the outside world sees, it is just another city state, ruled by a king and his council of advisors. Nothing makes it different from any other city.
Those who live there know better.
While the king pretends to administer rules and mete out justice, it is the council, pockets fat from the leaders of guilds, consortia, gangs, churches, and any other group with enough manpower to hold its own and enough money to lobby the council members to make laws in their favor. It is to these groups that the townspeople pay homage, respect, and fear. The city guard is nothing compared to the private mercenaries or guild members assigned to different sections. Indeed, most people would rather be willing to sell secrets to the Shadowsong guild for protection than have 5 armored 'ironskulls' (as the guards are called here) standing in front of them. The lucky refugees learn quickly not to ask for asylum from the government, but rather go directly to the churches and temples, trading a tithe for a place to rest.
The story begins with three such refugees, having been brought together by circumstance. Each with their own story, setting aside prejudices in return for the chance at work, guarding a trade caravan a week out of the city until it passes through the gates. As the caravaner pays the three adventurers, he says only one sentence as a word of advice.
"Welcome to Torma. Watch your backs."
The trader leads his wagon away into the crowds, if crowd is a good enough word for the sea of people here at the gate. Some begging for money, some hawking their wares, others watching the gate as if waiting for someone, and still others making a vain attempt to bring order to the chaos.
It is obvious that the wars have affected all races the same, having brought all together in a common purpose of trying to survive. Dwarves argue with orcs over prices, Elves and gnomes banter over the day's events, even some of the lesser known or liked races can be seen here, such as the bugbear serving as a doorguard in front of some kind of small guildhall.
Spoiler
Each of you gains 125gp for guarding the caravan. Please post what someone would know of you after a week and a half of working with you in the OOC boards before posting here.
Also, when you do post here, make spot checks.
__________________ - It's as true today as when I started adventuring: 'When in doubt, set something on fire.'
78% of DM's started their first campaign in a tavern. If you're one of the 22% that didn't, copy and paste this into your signature.
I started in a jail cell.
Current Characters:
Nas - Human Monk 6, Homecoming
Quote:
"a beardless dwarf is like darth vader in a tutu. you know that something is wrong!" - Shademan
Last edited by Shadowofdeus : 02-11-2008 at 03:02 PM.
Rihsaw gratefully accepted his payment and after carefully counting out the coin, placed it securing deep inside his clothing. Its getting hard to make good money. Ah, well. . . if I'm lucky I could double this at the tavern tonight.
Tugging at the rim of his dusty brown hat, he looked around for his traveling companions. They'd been a nice lot, good at finding work to, might be a good idea to hang nearby.
Thorrarr flips a gold piece in the air and into his purse, Thanks, friend, been a pleasure.
Turning to glance at Krusk and Rihsaw, he shouts over his shoulder, Come on, you two, let's find an inn, see if we can't make a bit of coin! And while we're at it, some fair companionship for the evening. The night is young!
Before he's finished spouting bravado, Thorrarr has already started sprinting into the streets.
Gathering up the money from the caravan master Krusk carefully counted it before putting it away. Turning to Thorrarr and smiling at the mention of "companionship" he follows behind. Hope they have Orc women. Others to scrawny. I break them in half if I not careful. Hahaha!
Me need to keep eye on them still. They not enemies but maybe not friends yet.
As you take in your surroundings, you notice one of the other refugees from the caravan speaking to a local and occasionally looking or gesturing in your direction.
Sprinting is difficult with the massive amounts of people in the street. It seems that nobody really cares about having people in their way, turning the paths into moving shoving matches as the townspeople attempt to get from point a to point b, a feat made harder by the fact that most people are trying to get out of the outside for fear of the ominous cloudcover that threatens to break into a full fledged rainstorm at any moment.
__________________ - It's as true today as when I started adventuring: 'When in doubt, set something on fire.'
78% of DM's started their first campaign in a tavern. If you're one of the 22% that didn't, copy and paste this into your signature.
I started in a jail cell.
Current Characters:
Nas - Human Monk 6, Homecoming
Quote:
"a beardless dwarf is like darth vader in a tutu. you know that something is wrong!" - Shademan
Thorrarr pokes his head around, trying to find a way through the crowd. Damnable cityfolk, all bottled up and shuffling around like ants. I need a horse, people move out of the way of horses. And towering orcs, for that matter.
Thorrarr grins deviously, and takes on his best herald's pose.
Attention, citizens of Toma! Krusk, champion of a thousand bloody battles, slayer of monsters and humanoids alike, comes this way to seek lodging! If you've any sense, you'd best make way!
It'd be wise to keep on the barbarian's good side. Sure, I was exaggerating, but Krusk still looked like an experienced warrior, and could probably pull a caravan with nothing but his own strength and murderous intent for something in front of him. On the off chance I turn out not to be exaggerating, I'll be sure to start taking lessons from him.
Thorrarr glanced back as an afterthought, to make sure the towering orc he had in mind was actually coming this way.
O' Mighty Krusk, with a healthy payment, it might be best if we head into the crowds to search for lodging. He leans in towards Thorarr and whispers, and in strange places boldness may be dangerous, he gestures towards the suspicious refugee it looks like our arrival may have already attracted unwanted attention
Rihsaw pushes into the crowd, hoping to make way towards the most likely sight for lodging.
Turning at the mention of his name Krusk suppressed a smile as the crowd reacted to Thorrarr's proclamation. Krusk strides forward calmly holding his greataxe over his shoulder heading to what looks like the nearest bar, pushing people out of the way when necessary. He calmly notes the refugee making motions at him but waits until getting to the bar before talking.
Thorrarr nudges Rihsaw in the ribs lightly, speaking in a conversational tone as they follow Krusk through the crowd.
What a fine town, eh? I'm sure we'll draw plenty of attention, people will be whispering our names all over the place before we know it. Ah, fame and glory. Sure, not everyone will be that fond of us, that's how fame is, right? I wouldn't worry too much, it's not like we've got enemies here yet, we just got here! Lighten up!
Upon passing through the doors of the 'Shephard's Crook', you're assailed by the sights, sounds, and smells associated with the overcrowding of a very successful tavern. That is, if you could guage success by the shouting drunks, stench of vomit, and the biggest group of alcoholic refugees this side of the Nurumac River*.
As you push through the throngs of patrons, you notice that there are unconscious people littering the floor, having been put there by those more deserving of a seat at the table. You also notice that the bar wenches seem to not mind this as they weave in and out of the crowd, delivering liquid refreshment to the various groups.
With the masses outside trying to get inside, it's a matter of seconds before you lose access to the front door.
A barmaid notices that none of you have drinks in your hands, and shouts over the clamor What'll it be?!
Spoiler
If there were any casters, any spells cast in here with a verbal component would require a concentration check.
Also, movement is reduced to 1/4 speed unless you are willing to make a balance check (dc 13 for half speed, 17 for full, 25 for double) to avoid the bodies littering the ground or a bull rush to clear the crowd out of your path.
__________________ - It's as true today as when I started adventuring: 'When in doubt, set something on fire.'
78% of DM's started their first campaign in a tavern. If you're one of the 22% that didn't, copy and paste this into your signature.
I started in a jail cell.
Current Characters:
Nas - Human Monk 6, Homecoming
Quote:
"a beardless dwarf is like darth vader in a tutu. you know that something is wrong!" - Shademan
Last edited by Shadowofdeus : 02-14-2008 at 10:02 PM.
ALE! Krusk yelled to the barmaid as he pushed his way to a table. Sitting down he turned to Thorrarr and Rihsaw and waved them over.
People noticing us. Don't know why. Maybe people looking for us? That not good for me, me know no one here.
Okay, coulda swore I posted this yesterday, but apparently it didn't take. that's new.
Krusk, unless your defenition of 'pushing your way to a table' includes 'pushing someone off a chair', chances are you're not going to be able to sit.
Rihsaw, due to the lack of available seating, it seems nigh impossible that you'll be getting in on a game of 3 dragon ante anytime soon.
Mere minutes after she left, the Barmaid appears carrying three flagons of the house brew. She looks to Thorrarr and says 'sorry luv, we be full on rooms tonight. mayhaps ye ken try one of the temples. they always seem to have a spare cot or three.'
As she finishes talking, she peers at the doorway. If you follow her gaze, you can see an individual that krusk and rihsaw would find familiar. He was the local that the refugee was talking to, presumably about you. He's a half-elf, covered with dust from the street, but wearing a fairly official looking outfit... although that might just be the clasp on his cloak with an ornate emblem on it. He makes eyecontact with you, and proceeds to move left into the tavern, away from both you and the door.
__________________ - It's as true today as when I started adventuring: 'When in doubt, set something on fire.'
78% of DM's started their first campaign in a tavern. If you're one of the 22% that didn't, copy and paste this into your signature.
I started in a jail cell.
Current Characters:
Nas - Human Monk 6, Homecoming
Quote:
"a beardless dwarf is like darth vader in a tutu. you know that something is wrong!" - Shademan
Noticing he can't find an empty table Krusk moves to the emptiest part he can find then clears room for everyone else if there isn't already. Strength Check - (1d20+5)[23] Hmm. No rooms. Have to sleep outside. Good. Easier to find safe place.
Seeing the strange man from outside come in and make seemingly deliberate eye contact Krusk is now a little on edge.
Pushing his way back out to the door, Thorrarr says to the newcomer as he pushes past
No room here, best keep moving.
Thorrarr pushes back into the crowded street. I hate cities.
Thorrarr: more people are trying to get IN than OUT, to get out through the crowd, make a strength or escape artist check.
Also, anyone trying to keep an eye on the half-elf, make spot checks.
__________________ - It's as true today as when I started adventuring: 'When in doubt, set something on fire.'
78% of DM's started their first campaign in a tavern. If you're one of the 22% that didn't, copy and paste this into your signature.
I started in a jail cell.
Current Characters:
Nas - Human Monk 6, Homecoming
Quote:
"a beardless dwarf is like darth vader in a tutu. you know that something is wrong!" - Shademan
Last edited by Shadowofdeus : 02-27-2008 at 06:26 PM.
Rihsaw keeps his eye on the half-elf while waving down the matron for an ale. When she arrives he points at the half-elf and as have you ever seen that guy over there before?
RSS Feeds: 
Nightfall Reigns Supreme
- It's as true today as when I started adventuring: 'When in doubt, set something on fire.'
