The party, minus the dwarf druid Bearchief, who had left the party to pursue personal, druidic-centric quests, was now rested and regrouped, and found themselves outside of Fal-Narath, just outside sight of the sentries there, trying to get their story straight. This was important, as they were returning to the town that revered the cleric they recently killed. They settled on “If anyone asks, Brenda knew we were making progress, ventured out to join us, and died saving us. From the mountain giants, who are all dead now, by the way. Because we killed them all. We’re heroes. So you’re welcome.”
Turnin, the human monk, was still covered in the blood of the very first giant the party slew, related the party’s story to the guards, who recognized him from his milling about the town just a few days ago. The guards hadn’t yet heard of Brenda’s disappearance, and didn’t seem to suspect the party of anything other than being exhausted.
However, Turnin’s bloodied, disheveled look unsettled the townsfolk once the party was exploring the shops (and bars) in town. Zyn, the drow ranger, scowling and skulking from shadow to shadow, squinting against the afternoon sunlight, didn’t add much to the party’s majesty. Kyllar, the human wizard, conjured water and hosed Turnin down, and after a free drink from the bar (or a whole liter of sweet, sweet booze, in the halfling rogue’s case) the party set about resupplying, and telling everyone of how awesome they are.
Kyllar, triumphantly displayed Bulwark’s giant tower shield, recognized by the townsfolk, and declared victory over the mountain giants. Kyllar then tried to sell the symbol, but could find no one that wanted it, nor anyone who could tell him much of what went into making a shield for the Warforged. Weighed down by Bulwark’s Bulwark, the half dozen swords, a buckler, a kobold pick axe and the secret kobold egg nestled in his pack, one would expect the wizard to be trudging along, but Kyllar, master of calisthenics, easily kept pace.
The party visited a dwarven armorer (who bought Zyn’s old suit of ring mail from him); a naturalist selling moss and mushrooms; and a blacksmith turning plowshares into bad swords to arm the populous against the kobold’s assaults, with Turnin chatting everyone’s ear off the entire way.
The party finally made it to the Rainbow Unicorn Princess, apparently named by the innkeeper’s daughter, and one of the most upscale of the inns in the town. Here the party bought meals apiece and a big room to share. Also staying at the inn was a traveling magician, whom the party was practically giddy to see perform the following day. A tentative knock at his door proved fruitless, and the party withdrew to their room to rest and wait until dusk had fallen before venturing out again...
Once it was nice a dark outside, the party departed the inn; Shadowale jumping from the second-story window into the bushes below; and the rest of the party making their way out the main inn entrance. Decked out in their adventuring gear. And carrying all of Kyllar’s pillaged gear. However, the inn was bustling with many coming and going for dinner and no one stopped them.
Veterans now, the party effortlessly avoided the nightly city patrols and made their way to Brenda’s the makeshift base of operations, an old inn that had been donated to her and her efforts by the town’s mayor. Shadowale picked the lock near the back door after a patrol had passed, and the party shuffled inside as quietly as they could manage.
Inside, they found the headquarters abandoned. As should really be the case when everyone affiliated with the owner is dead. They filled their bags with enough foodstuffs to last them a while on the road, and then crept into the main room, guided by Zyn’s Darkvision and stealthy ways. One of the two common rooms was set aside for administration; maps and ledgers littered the tables, outlining the ongoing building projects in town, like the construction of the perimeter wall.
The other common room was a treasure trove. There, again guided by Zyn, the party uncovered a stockpile of coinage and gems that they divided neatly into 20 GP per person. They also found two potions of Greater Healing, a Potion of Animal Friendship, a Potion of Water Breathing, a Potion of Stone Giant Strength, and a very rare Arrow of Dragon Slaying.
After much (quiet) rejoicing, the party ventured upstairs, picked the lock to Brenda’s room, and (quietly) ransacked it. Inside they found a locked chest containing a renowned Bag of Holding, and a series of notes outlining nearby points of interest, as well as a list of the conscripted adventurers, their assigned task, and status.
This late-night breaking and entering would greatly help the party! The party quietly exited after another patrol passed by in the night, but Shadowale was spotted by a quartet of belligerent, drunken dwarves exiting another local bar. The ringleader called out Shadowale, saying that their argument from last week still wasn’t resolved (despite the dwarf’s broken nose), and that he was really the taller of the two. Seeing a numerically even fight, the drunken quartet drew daggers, and charged the party.
The party was well-prepared however, and surprisingly all sober, even Shadowale, and their veteran skills allowed them to seized the initiative over the aggressors. As the combatants closed, Shadowale sternly warned against actual killing. He wanted to see the magician tomorrow, and having a run in with the guard would seriously throw a wrench into those plans.
The party did their best.
Armed with fists and a quarterstaff, Turnin seemed like the ideal person to land the first few non-lethal blows. A quick rap with the quarterstaff was followed up by a quick jab with a fist… however Turnin misjudged the drunken swagger of his opponent, and fist connected with the dwarf’s head with a wet, sickening crack. The dwarf collapsed.
Taking careful aim, Zyn loosed arrows from his longbow into the legs of two of the dwarves, immobilizing them.
The ringleader actually made it to Shadowale, but was severely outclassed. With a series of quick slaps with the flats of his blades, Shadowale bloodied and knocked out the instigator.
Kyllar, presumably still arranging his pack, or trying to read Brenda’s ledgers in the dark of night, did nothing. One wonders if he even knew what the party was doing.
The immobilized dwarves shrieked in pain, and the clatter of city patrols neared. In shock, Turnin fumbled for the pulse of the dwarf he dispatched. Much to his relief, the dwarf was not dead, though the extent of his injuries could not be determined. As the rest of the party fled the scene, Turnin places his original 6 gold pieces into the dwarf’s pocket as recompense.
Forced to flee the city, but still in want of a few things, the party narrowed down their list of errands to two shops, which happened to conveniently be located next to one another. Kyllar conjured a hand to undo the window latch from inside the apocathery shop, and then clamber inside. There, he nabbed two Potions of Healing and a Potion of Gaseous Form. Meanwhile, Shadowale and Zyn geared up at the Owlbear’s Eye, an archery shop. Shadowale traded in his short bow and quiver of arrows for a crossbow and quiver of bolts, while Zyn simply “acquired” two new, top of the line 1-handed crossbows.
The clatter of armored guards echoed from every street. The party quickly climbed onto the roof of the shops, jumped the meager wall nearby, and departed the town, running headlong towards other adventures...
Turnin, the human monk, was still covered in the blood of the very first giant the party slew, related the party’s story to the guards, who recognized him from his milling about the town just a few days ago. The guards hadn’t yet heard of Brenda’s disappearance, and didn’t seem to suspect the party of anything other than being exhausted.
However, Turnin’s bloodied, disheveled look unsettled the townsfolk once the party was exploring the shops (and bars) in town. Zyn, the drow ranger, scowling and skulking from shadow to shadow, squinting against the afternoon sunlight, didn’t add much to the party’s majesty. Kyllar, the human wizard, conjured water and hosed Turnin down, and after a free drink from the bar (or a whole liter of sweet, sweet booze, in the halfling rogue’s case) the party set about resupplying, and telling everyone of how awesome they are.
Kyllar, triumphantly displayed Bulwark’s giant tower shield, recognized by the townsfolk, and declared victory over the mountain giants. Kyllar then tried to sell the symbol, but could find no one that wanted it, nor anyone who could tell him much of what went into making a shield for the Warforged. Weighed down by Bulwark’s Bulwark, the half dozen swords, a buckler, a kobold pick axe and the secret kobold egg nestled in his pack, one would expect the wizard to be trudging along, but Kyllar, master of calisthenics, easily kept pace.
The party visited a dwarven armorer (who bought Zyn’s old suit of ring mail from him); a naturalist selling moss and mushrooms; and a blacksmith turning plowshares into bad swords to arm the populous against the kobold’s assaults, with Turnin chatting everyone’s ear off the entire way.
The party finally made it to the Rainbow Unicorn Princess, apparently named by the innkeeper’s daughter, and one of the most upscale of the inns in the town. Here the party bought meals apiece and a big room to share. Also staying at the inn was a traveling magician, whom the party was practically giddy to see perform the following day. A tentative knock at his door proved fruitless, and the party withdrew to their room to rest and wait until dusk had fallen before venturing out again...
Once it was nice a dark outside, the party departed the inn; Shadowale jumping from the second-story window into the bushes below; and the rest of the party making their way out the main inn entrance. Decked out in their adventuring gear. And carrying all of Kyllar’s pillaged gear. However, the inn was bustling with many coming and going for dinner and no one stopped them.
Veterans now, the party effortlessly avoided the nightly city patrols and made their way to Brenda’s the makeshift base of operations, an old inn that had been donated to her and her efforts by the town’s mayor. Shadowale picked the lock near the back door after a patrol had passed, and the party shuffled inside as quietly as they could manage.
Inside, they found the headquarters abandoned. As should really be the case when everyone affiliated with the owner is dead. They filled their bags with enough foodstuffs to last them a while on the road, and then crept into the main room, guided by Zyn’s Darkvision and stealthy ways. One of the two common rooms was set aside for administration; maps and ledgers littered the tables, outlining the ongoing building projects in town, like the construction of the perimeter wall.
The other common room was a treasure trove. There, again guided by Zyn, the party uncovered a stockpile of coinage and gems that they divided neatly into 20 GP per person. They also found two potions of Greater Healing, a Potion of Animal Friendship, a Potion of Water Breathing, a Potion of Stone Giant Strength, and a very rare Arrow of Dragon Slaying.
After much (quiet) rejoicing, the party ventured upstairs, picked the lock to Brenda’s room, and (quietly) ransacked it. Inside they found a locked chest containing a renowned Bag of Holding, and a series of notes outlining nearby points of interest, as well as a list of the conscripted adventurers, their assigned task, and status.
This late-night breaking and entering would greatly help the party! The party quietly exited after another patrol passed by in the night, but Shadowale was spotted by a quartet of belligerent, drunken dwarves exiting another local bar. The ringleader called out Shadowale, saying that their argument from last week still wasn’t resolved (despite the dwarf’s broken nose), and that he was really the taller of the two. Seeing a numerically even fight, the drunken quartet drew daggers, and charged the party.
The party was well-prepared however, and surprisingly all sober, even Shadowale, and their veteran skills allowed them to seized the initiative over the aggressors. As the combatants closed, Shadowale sternly warned against actual killing. He wanted to see the magician tomorrow, and having a run in with the guard would seriously throw a wrench into those plans.
The party did their best.
Armed with fists and a quarterstaff, Turnin seemed like the ideal person to land the first few non-lethal blows. A quick rap with the quarterstaff was followed up by a quick jab with a fist… however Turnin misjudged the drunken swagger of his opponent, and fist connected with the dwarf’s head with a wet, sickening crack. The dwarf collapsed.
Taking careful aim, Zyn loosed arrows from his longbow into the legs of two of the dwarves, immobilizing them.
The ringleader actually made it to Shadowale, but was severely outclassed. With a series of quick slaps with the flats of his blades, Shadowale bloodied and knocked out the instigator.
Kyllar, presumably still arranging his pack, or trying to read Brenda’s ledgers in the dark of night, did nothing. One wonders if he even knew what the party was doing.
The immobilized dwarves shrieked in pain, and the clatter of city patrols neared. In shock, Turnin fumbled for the pulse of the dwarf he dispatched. Much to his relief, the dwarf was not dead, though the extent of his injuries could not be determined. As the rest of the party fled the scene, Turnin places his original 6 gold pieces into the dwarf’s pocket as recompense.
Forced to flee the city, but still in want of a few things, the party narrowed down their list of errands to two shops, which happened to conveniently be located next to one another. Kyllar conjured a hand to undo the window latch from inside the apocathery shop, and then clamber inside. There, he nabbed two Potions of Healing and a Potion of Gaseous Form. Meanwhile, Shadowale and Zyn geared up at the Owlbear’s Eye, an archery shop. Shadowale traded in his short bow and quiver of arrows for a crossbow and quiver of bolts, while Zyn simply “acquired” two new, top of the line 1-handed crossbows.
The clatter of armored guards echoed from every street. The party quickly climbed onto the roof of the shops, jumped the meager wall nearby, and departed the town, running headlong towards other adventures...
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