1. Prologue

[Zhym]

You find yourselves, once again, in a tavern. In an inn.

To a party of seasoned adventurers such as yourselves, this is but another dull tavern in another dull town in some nameless province. It is but another passage of time between the challenges of true adventuring. Such are the doldrums of existence—waiting for another opportunity.

To the outside observer, your party seems an odd bunch. Robert Ashton, the "half-breed" druid raised by elves but choosing a human's life. Iluq, the dark elf, outcast from his kind, who has taken up the holy symbol of Fenmarel. Tibbius D'End, of royal elven blood. Tumbler Metalcaster, the dwarven craftsman. And the crusader, Vorkath Tsaridian, former barbarian, now self-proclaimed Faith Hunter, Guardian of the Truth, and Sword of the True God.

It is the evening of the first day of Nouluna, the ninth month of the year, on the cusp of summer's fade into fall. Outside the inn, a fog lies over the town, draping everything in its clammy grasp. The damp cobbled street shines as the light of street lanterns dances across the slick stones. The cold fog chills the bones and shivers the souls of anyone outside.

Yet inside the tavern walls, the food is hearty and the ale is frothy. A fire blazes in the hearth and the tavern is alive with the tumbling voices of country folk. The chance for another adventure will come when it comes. For now, you eat, and you drink, and you talk.

Those of you with characters already rolled can free-form roleplay between yourselves here if you like. Depending on how quickly the other characters can be rolled, I may start the adventure and introduce them later.

[Bouv]

Robert sips on his drink and slowly eats his meal. "It's days like this that begin to set in the chill into your bones for sure. Even the cold winter days don't feel like an misty, cool fall day. I guess we just get to used to the warmth of the summer. "

[Computer +1]

I guess replies Tumbler, not even bothering to lift his head up as he puts back together one of the locks he seems to work on endlessly. The only warmth I'd like to think about now is the warmth I mean to put in my belly. Where is the serving wench, I need another whiskey"

[Eulalios]

Tibbius lounges in a corner, pale lime green in charcoal robes. A while ago he spilled most a goblet of wine, and had been swirling his fingers in it on the tabletop. Now he looks up. "This wine is good neither for drinking nor drawing," he says. "This day bites me with boredom. Hi, truth-keeper, perhaps I could help with another of your sermons."

[Computer +1]

Tibbius lounges in a corner, pale lime green in charcoal robes. A while ago he spilled most a goblet of wine, and had been swirling his fingers in it on the tabletop. Now he looks up. "This wine is good neither for drinking nor drawing," he says. " This day bites me with boredom. Hi, truth-keeper, perhaps I could help with another of your sermons."

Eulalios, that lime text color is killing me, I can't read it at all.

[Grognardsw]

Vorkath Tsaridian / tavern

"Raise your spirits my friend, for adventure will soon find us. So says Vorkath Tsaridian!" The self-proclaimed Guardian of the Truth stands up at his seat, placing his hands over the rim of his tankard. The paladin looks around at his companions in boredom.

"Now harken, my fellows! Let us not forget The Beer's Prayer:

Our Lager,
Which art in barrels
Hallowed be thy drink.
Thy will be drunk,
I will be drunk,
At home as in the tavern.
Give us this day our foamy head
and forgive us our spillages
as we forgive those that spill against us
and lead us not into incarceration.
But deliver us from hang-overs,
for thine is the beer,
The bitter and the lager
forever and ever
Barmen!"

No, I didn't make that up myself.

[Computer +1]

Tumbler looks up from his tinkering, That's the first prayer you have said that was worth saying. I'd drink to it if I can get another damn drink.. His head turns side to side trying to locate someone to refill his glass.

[Bouv]

Robert, always showing a bit of restraint, only sips slowly on his drink and, while excellent and warm, nibbles at his dinner. Well, my companions, here's to a quiet night of drink, food, song and sleep! I think it's long deserved.

[Eulalios]

I hear you about the text color thing ... it did not come out as good as I'd hoped. Thanks for pointing out the dialog tag.

"Barkeep?!" The elf's voice is boyishly shrill. "A better bottle, please. I'm green with thirst." He looks around, wiggling his fingers, smiling through tight lips, mischief in his eyes... Have they been long enough in this tavern for his practiced eyes to note where the good wine is kept?

[Grognardsw]

Vorkath / imbibing

Vorkath pauses on his third drink, pondering certain psalms of wisdom he read the previous evening. The paladin is finding it difficult to drink in moderation this evening. Perhaps it is his barbarian heritage. The barmaid stops by yet again to check on the charismatic (Cha. 17) godly warrior. The wench won't go away, but one can hardly blame her. Vorkath, 30, stands 6', 200 lbs, black hair, blue eyes, chiseled features, muscular but not overly so, and scarred. He is quick in movement, keen of eye, a clever tactician, shrewd strategist, good of heart but occasionally overzealous in his faith.

Vorkath is in a talkative mood with his companions, who seemed oddly amused with that most holy of Beer Prayers. Over the course of the evening, the paladin tells his tale:
"It is a strange story, that of Vorkath Tsaridian, and his path to Paladinhood. Indeed, some outside the monasteries of the True God are skeptical of the tale. Vorkath, of the blacksmith family of Tsaridian, was a young lad of 11 when a missionary group of the Order of the True God visited his village in the Mountains of the Iron Tribes. Seeking to convert the barbarian tribesmen while rekindling an old agreement, the missionaries stayed for several weeks. Aseus, cleric leader of the missionary group, found young Vorkath particularly receptive to the words of the True God.

Unbeknown to Vorkath at the time, his long-deceased grandfather had an agreement with the Order of the True God to forge the finest weapons, including several swords that were imbued with enchantments by True God followers to create Holy Swords. This relationship had faded into obscurity, only to be resurface more recently. It was part of the missionaries’ goal to strike a new agreement.

Raiders attacked the village while the missionary group was there. Vorkath's family and most of village died. With luck and plumb, young Vorkath managed to save the priest Aseus and escape into the mountains with the unconscious cleric. They hid in a cave known only to the young barbarian. Wounded, perhaps delirious, Vorkath experienced a vision. He saw a bright flash of light and a grey, hairless, sexless human with a large head and large black saucer eyes. Vorkath was held motionless as the being proclaimed itself an emissary of the True God, and pronounced Vorkath a servant of the True Faith who should spread the Holy Word.

The vision passed and Vorkath fell unconscious. He awoke with Aseus bending over him tending to his wounds. The cleric used his magic of faith to heal the young barbarian. Vorkath was awe-struck at such power; surely a validation of his vision, of the power and rightness of the True God! At that moment Vorkath swore himself to the True God. He related his holy vision to Aseus. The priest was uncertain of the vision, but was grateful to the boy for saving his life and agreed to take him back to the monastery.

Thus it was that Vorkath Tsaridian - savage young barbarian, orphan, believer in the faith - was educated and trained in the monastery of the True God. Vorkath diligently prayed and studied under the initially skeptical clerics of the Order. His determination and persistence won his priests over, and they were happy to have such a devout acolyte in their midst. The young former apprentice blacksmith also helped forge weapons for the Order. Vorkath learned the words of wisdom, the acts of mercy, the kind thoughts and role of forgiveness in the holy ways of the True God.

Though a willing student and devout of spirit, Vorkath's barbarian heritage made him restless. Alas, the priestly path did not seem a good fit. At the encouragement of Aseus and the Order, Vorkath shifted from cleric studies to the holy martial path of the paladin. He left the regional monastery for the fabled city of Tarantia and its imposing Church of the True God. There Vorkath rose quickly in martial service for the Order. Among his positions were, chronologically: Holy Grave guard, Holy Concubine guard, Temple guard, traveling priest bodyguard, Enforcer of the Faith and Soldier of the Faith.

Ten years to the day since his holy vision in the cave, Vorkath experienced another holy visitation. He was traveling a remote road at night when the light and strange emissary appeared. Its message: Vorkath must leave Tarantia and go out in the world to defend the Words and Ways of the True God.

Vorkath's passions were deep, his faith zealous, his determination indomitable. Thus it came to pass that the Order anointed him with a holy mission: To travel to every True God monastery and temple in the lands (and there are many) and serve for one season of the calendar in whatever martial missions they choose. The order prepared him for this difficult path ahead by giving him a holy sword his grandfather forged and enchanted armor.

Vorkath has had some harrowing adventures since then, including defending a missionary caravan against a Norker attack; hunting down a necromancer; recovering a religious artifact stolen by a competing temple; ridding a village of a ghost; exploring dungeons for treasure for the Order; and body-guarding a high priest's daughter (the two experienced forbidden love, regretted it, and have not seen each other in five years. Unknown to Vorkath, he has a son.)

And so now begins the latest chapter in the story of Vorkath Tsaridian - The Faith Hunter, Guardian of the Truth, The Sword of the True God, formerly of the Iron Tribes..."

[Computer +1]

Tumbler groans inwardly as the human, who clearly has had too much to drink, begins to once again spout his life story. "He made not be bad with the sword" Tumbler thinks, "but I can do without all this drivel."

Tumbler looks up from his work and randomly shouts "Argh" whenever he thinks it may be appropriate during the human's tale.

[Zhym]

I haven't heard responses from the other two players in the past few days and there's no sign of stat rolls from them on the dice roller, so I'm going to start moving the game forward. There should be plenty of opportunities for a while to work the other players into the game when they're ready.

You drink and eat. Tibbius complains about the quality of the wine and wonders where the good stuff can be found. Robert sips his drink, eats his dinner, and relishes the chance for a good night of food, song, and sleep. Tumbler grouses about the slow service, perhaps because the serving wench has eyes only for the charismatic Vorkath.

The paladin, showing a sense of humor (or devotion to beer) not always seen in those of his calling, recites the Beer's Prayer to the merriment of all around. He then tells his life story. Tumbler groans inwardly. The party, having traveled with Vorkath for some time now, has heard the tale many times before. When Vorkath has been drinking, all women are beautiful, all men are his best friend, and he loves to tell his life story.

Suddenly, a hush falls over the tavern. Even the flagons of ale seem to silence themselves. The tavern door swings open. Framed by the lamp-lit fog, a form strides into the room. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows. Without hesitation, he walks directly to your table and stands proudly in a wide stance with folded arms.

His accented voice speaks. "I have been sent to you to deliver this message! If you be creatures of honor, you will come to my master's aid at first light!" He pulls from his tunic a sealed letter, addressed to all of you in beautiful flowing script. He drops the letter on the table. "Take the west road from here some five hours march down through the Svalich woods. There you will find my master in Borovia. But beware! It is not advisable to travel the Svalich woods at night!"

Amid the continued silent stares of the patronage, the gypsy strides to the bar and says to the weary barkeeper, "Fill the glasses, one and all. Their throats are obviously parched." He drops a purse heavy with gold on the bar. With that, he leaves.

The babble of tavern voices resumes, although somewhat subdued. The letter is lying before you. Dated yesterday, the ink is still not dry and the parchment is crisp. The seal is of a crest you do not recognize.

When you open the envelope, you find the following letter:

Burgomaster Letter.png (979.63 KiB) Viewed 746 times

It seems the opportunity for a new adventure has arrived.

[Grognardsw]

Vorkath / tavern

Vorkath reads the letter to his comrades in his fine baritone voice. A burp escapes at the end.

"This evil must be extinguished and the fair Ireena returned to health," says the Guardian of the Truth, clenching his fists in enthusiasm. "We must make forthwith to the good Burgomaster. Though first - perhaps the barkeep knows something of this Borovia. I have not trod this town's streets before."

Privately Vorkath considers the quality of the parchment, the fine ink, the skilled script, the gold from the courier, the promised reward. There is great wealth here. Coin gained from this service would make a goodly gift to the local Church of the True God.

[NJWilliam]

Iluq, Dark Elf Cleric

While the messenger is speaking, Iluq watches his movements carefully as he listens to his words and invokes his Know Alignment ability.

After the messenger leaves and the letter has been opened, Iluq stands, picks up the envelope, and studies the crest with both his eyes and touch.

[Bouv]

Robert sets down his drink for a moment. Well, I guess more than a night's rest in a comfortable bed was too much to ask for. However, I would agree, traveling the woods at night, even for one such as myself, can be quite dangerous. It would be best if we set out in the morning to investigate what is going on and see of what assistance we may provide. However, if it is just nature running it's course, we would be best to stay out of it.

With that, like the others, Robert will begin to ask around, seeing what information can be cleaned about Bavoria.

[Computer +1]

Ughhhhh promising everything you have means that you are desperate. Means that it could be bad enough to get us all killed. He stops working and looks up, The bigger the treasure, the complex the locks and the more dangerous the traps. He pushes the lock across the table. Are sure we want to get involved with this?

[Eulalios]

The green elf's smile becomes a bit more mischievous. "As stated, I am bored. We can journey now it by day. If now, perhaps my enchantment of gibbering mist will help to conceal us."

[Grognardsw]

Vorkath / tavern

"Tumbler, ye have little faith my friend!" bellows Vorkath to the dwarf. "Aye, there be danger, but there will surely be reward both monetary and spiritual in the vanquishing of evil."

"Adventure is like this lock," says the paladin, holding up the lock Tumbler pushed across the table. "One must probe, fiddle, thrust and open. Sometimes it does not yield, and you must try again. It is risky, for it could be trapped. But after it's open, it yields reward."

"I agree with the others. Let us rest the night, pray and depart on the morn."

[Computer +1]

Tumbler jumps up and snatches back the lock from the tall human. Ye don't know nothin' about locks! Probe and fiddle?! Yer daft! He shakes the lock at Vorkath. You ever been to Borovia, or whatever its called? You know what its like there? They say they are powerless but have a lot of money, when have you ever heard that before? Sounds like a load of crap!

He sits back down and begins working on the lock once again. He mutters to himself After its open it yields rewards... what does he know about opening anything....

[Zhym]

Iluq studies the crest on the envelope's seal. He hasn't seen it before and can't glean any meaning from it.

seal.jpg (21.54 KiB) Viewed 686 times

Robert mourns his lost downtime and wonders if the Burgomaster's problem might be best left alone. "If it is just nature running its course, he muses, "we would be best to stay out of it."

Tumnbler agrees that he might not want to get involved. "Promising everything you have means that you are desperate," he says. "Means that it could be bad enough to get us all killed."

Tibbius, however, is bored enough that he's willing to set out immediately, despite the gypsy's warning about the dangers of the Svalich woods at night. "Perhaps my enchantment of gibbering mist will help to conceal us," he suggests.

Robert and Vorkath try to gather information. Robert turns to the other tavern patrons, hoping to ask around for information, but the country folk who had until recently been so talkative have little to say. The charismatic Vorkath has no more luck. He saunters up to the bar and flashes the smile that usually opens floodgates of information. But the barkeep practically fondles the sack full of gold left by the gypsy, gets a thoughtful look, and just shakes his head. "Don't know nuthin' about Borovia. Sorry."

Returning to his table, Vorkath finds a moment to inadvertently start an argument with the locksmith about locks.