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Our story thus far...

Started by tomcat, Oct 18, 2016, 01:39 pm

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tomcat

This thread will be for all inter-game roleplaying, or character activities
Narrator: Darkening of Mirkwood | Chronicle of the North | Tempest Rising | To Boldly Go | Welcome to the 501st!
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦○○] Dmg 9/11  |  Edge 8  |  Injury 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

tomcat

#1
Oct 18, 2016, 01:43 pm Last Edit: Oct 19, 2016, 08:38 am by tomcat
Brice Sparks
I think I lost my hand axes in that last encounter... The humans I hit fled before I could kill them and retrieve them... I have three javelins left.

Willie Shumaker
See.. it was a good thing I got that ass hole to take us to them.. we must recover the axes.. we are dwarves..

Brice Sparks
Yes, and we have a blood trial in case that ass hole tries to lead us off.

Willie Shumaker
And an elf Ranger to boot.. we are golden..

Shannon Lynn Sparks
Unless I decide to lead us to our original destination


Willie Shumaker
The lady elf must not understand a drunken dwarf loosing an Axe leads to homicidal rage?? Lol

Brice Sparks
My fair Elven lady, the plot has thickened. Did you not hear this scumbag's words? They've been on our tail since we left Ormkirk. Capt Ulrik brought up a good point. That town master is oddly supicious. I'm sure we'll find more answers at the bandit hideout.

Willie Shumaker
Not to mention.. exp. Gold.. and new ways to make dbags stop breathing.. (spoken in a deep drunk Irish accent.)

Brice Sparks
***Flint looks over at Shale and clears his throat***
That was two axes...
Narrator: Darkening of Mirkwood | Chronicle of the North | Tempest Rising | To Boldly Go | Welcome to the 501st!
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦○○] Dmg 9/11  |  Edge 8  |  Injury 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

tomcat

#2
Oct 19, 2016, 08:37 am Last Edit: Oct 19, 2016, 10:27 am by tomcat
Shannon Lynn Sparks
I'm just saying maybe it wasn't a good idea to torture a guy in front the Chaotic Good ranger

Willie Shumaker
Which means they all have to die..

Willie Shumaker
Technically torturing a guy to get possible info of the kidnapping of 4 other people could be viewed as both good and evil... lawful... and chaotic.. it's all a Grey area.. alignment is more of a guide than a rule.. the choices we make we do not always have good/evil intentions.

Shannon Lynn Sparks
I see Chaotic good as like the loose cannon cop though. beating up for information maybe but not outright torture.

Willie Shumaker
I will personally guarantee to the lady.. I promise to not burn hands anymore.

Shannon Lynn Sparks
At least warn before you torture I think as long as I don't see it it's acceptable

Brice Sparks
(Flint growls out in a frustrated yet depressed tone)
Enough! Please, listen. I don't care about their treasures or ridding the world of their worthless arses. The truth is, those axes are nor ordinary axes. Those are made of high dwarven quality, by me father. A gift from the master blacksmith to his apprentice son.

Shannon Lynn Sparks
They looked pretty ordinary to me

Brice Sparks
(Flint glares at Enna with rage in his eyes)

Brice Sparks
It would be a great disgrace to the Fireforge clan if I just "lost" those axes recklessly in battle. The enemy were many, I felt it was necessary. I've always been hesitant to use them. I can't just let them go.

Shannon Lynn Sparks
Well that's chaotic side. And we need you to have weapons so I suppose it would be a good idea to go get them.

Brice Sparks
(Flint drops to a knee) Thank you Enna.

Brice Sparks
Flint peers over at Captain Ulrick, who has begun tinkering with the strange weapon he used earlier in battle.
Umm.... Captain?

Willie Shumaker
Shale takes a tiny sip of shine and now has a half empty jug.. stares at the burnt hand of the enemy.. while lowly repeating... jerky.... mmmmm.

Brice Sparks
Captain Ulrick continues to tinker, ignoring Flint's efforts to get his attention. Flint then looks over to Shale with a distraught look... Shale, ye gettin' hundreds are ya? Then pulls out his hunk of meat and cheese from his pack and hands it over to shale. I hope you aren't seriously considering eating that man's hand?

Willie Shumaker
Looks at flint.. just making sure the bastard stays focused on getting us to your axes.

Douglas Friess
A breeze stirs the air and a night bird cries out.

Brice Sparks
Flint looks off into the darkness towards the birds call. Wind's picking up. Day will break soon...

Doug Joos
Ulrich sat with his back against a log. He ran the swab down the barrel of his flintlock one more time to remove any remaining powder. Once done, he opened the small pouch on his belt that contained his 10 remaining shot.

"Too few," he thought. He had no worries regarding his skill with sword, but his time in the field, and the fact that he was still alive, hinged on the fact that he was good with his pistol. Too bad his rifle had been left behind. "No matter, I will have to make do."

The Dwarf, Flint, looked to him again making inquiry. Perhaps the smith could aid Ulrich in his current dilemma. He presented his weapon to Flint with both hands, "Sir Dwarf, this is a breech-loaded flintlock pistol built by Isaac de la Chaumette. Sir Isaac was the Master Smith of King Frederick, whom I served. In my country, the smith's manufactured a great number of weapons simultaneously."

"Needless to say, it is quite deadly and works by firing a shot of lead." Ulrich pointed at the trigger, the hammer and striker plate, the pan, and then the barrel. "I load this," he pulled a small paper-wrapped shot from his pouch, "into the breech."

Ulrich went through the motions of preparing his pistol with a new round, but kept the hammer uncocked. He then slid it into its holster that hung on his baldric. "It is very effective at short range and should put any man-sized individual down...if not dead, then gravely wounded." He then sighed, "My only problem is...I am short of shot. Do you know how to create lead balls that could fit this barrel? They need to fit tightly, but not too snug as to not fire."

Brice Sparks
Flint slowly takes Captain Ulrich's weapon from his hands and inspects it.

Captain, from wherever it is you hail from, I shall help you in your quest to make it home. For the strange things you hold and the strange words and stories which you speak seem not of this world...
Flint takes the one of the packs of shot and studies it...

This... powder... it smells of sulfer from deep beneath the mountain. And it smells of coal. These things are flammable but I've never heard of them exploding from a simple spark... There must be something else mixed in with this black powder...

Flint then looks and the bluish-gray ball. You call this lead where you come from? We call it other things under the mountain. It's an evil metal. Sometimes we find it with other metals such as silver, copper or zinc. Dwarves of old piled it aside and experimented with it. It's a heavy substance, worthless though. It doesn't shine and it's too soft for weapons and armor. And it's believed to be cursed. Many dwarves fell ill after being around the stuff for so long. We began dumping it back into the lava flow. But if you have a use for it, be my guest. We'll need to find a mine or dwarven city to get you some. We don't trade the stuff with those outside the mountain...

Flint goes back to the weapon...

Now this... I knew it was no "hammer" or "cudgel". You say weapon smiths forge these where you come from?

Flint looks at Captain Ulrich with deep confusion and curiosity...

I've never seen such a thing forged by dwarves or elves, let alone humans. Yet you speak of it as if it's a common thing. And more puzzling still, the name of you Kingdom is unknown to me...

Willie Shumaker
Shale *snickers* and says for the proper coin I will send any being home...

Shannon Lynn Sparks
I thought assassins kept their trade a secret

Willie Shumaker
Who's an assassin? I'm just saying I can help get a lost man home.. for some gold..

Brice Sparks
I don't think "we" know he's and assassin yet babe lol

Shannon Lynn Sparks
Uh huh and I suppose you use the knives as a compass?

Doug Joos
"An evil metal," Ulrich contained a laugh. "My good Dwarf, why it is no such thing. I am no smith of any skill, but I am an educated man. Our metallurgists have worked lead for years into various implements due to its malleability. Though we have stopped the practice of making cups and plates from the stuff.

"It is the very reason that it serves so well in the manufacturing of ammunition. The lead balls are soft and thus will sometimes flatten upon striking the target. The net effect is to drive a large hole through a man…the better to bring them down. And as you say it is readily available here, so it is within my home and thus is cost effective."

Ulrich received his pistol back from Flint, "Aye, it is a piece of art this thing. Yes, Sir Isaac has a small weapons factory in two of the primary cities of Austoria - Vasiena and Nournin. I understand the smith has at least one hundred employed in the making of barrels and mechanisms, and he also retains half that number of wood carvers who sculpt the body and handles.

"Both cities are renowned for their cuisine and music and my liege, Kind Edward and his royal family, resides within Vasiena. Alas, I cannot place my home on a map, as I do not know where I am. This world is strange to me - along with all who reside within its bounds. If I were to apply my education, both secular and non, I would say I have entered the Mittelmarches… a world within worlds, separated by wakefulness and sleep."

Ulrich did not speak further of his thoughts to his current predicament - damnation perhaps? An affront to God was a punishable act for any mortal. Was God so vindictive? Was God so petty?
Narrator: Darkening of Mirkwood | Chronicle of the North | Tempest Rising | To Boldly Go | Welcome to the 501st!
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦○○] Dmg 9/11  |  Edge 8  |  Injury 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

Enna

There's something everyone seems to be overlooking that I think we should take care of fairly soon. If what Shale said is true and Zylock is looking at us as marks we need to out him and figure out why. But I think we should wait until after we get through our bandit ordeal and Flint gets his axes back. And absolutely no torture.

wshumaker

@Enna

Not forgotten but... i would let things unravel on that in game.. there are ways of having some fun with this one.  >:D

Enna

Obviously.. But you may be the one that lied and if that's the case I'd like to know which one of you I can't trust faster.

tomcat

Yea, I think that this is an RPG moment that needs to work itself out at the table.

In truth, we have all only recently met, so who can trust whom? Or is it who? Or...whatever.  ;)
Narrator: Darkening of Mirkwood | Chronicle of the North | Tempest Rising | To Boldly Go | Welcome to the 501st!
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦○○] Dmg 9/11  |  Edge 8  |  Injury 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

wshumaker

Shale looks around camp... puzzled.. thinks to himself... "man.. this night feels like it had taken weeks to get to morning?" rolls over and nods of to sleep.

tomcat

#8
Oct 23, 2016, 09:39 am Last Edit: Oct 23, 2016, 03:13 pm by tomcat
Ulrich listened to the Dwarf grunt and shift, as he himself lay awake against his own backpack.

He remembered the same noises that came from his men as they camped the night before any major engagement. He marveled at how men, or dwarf in this case, always seemed to be anxious for the next battle - the next kill - never considering that they themselves could be the one dying. Maybe it was fear? Maybe it was nervousness? Certainly it had never been bravery - death was death, and only a fool raced to greet it. Ulrich had seen young men, at least what was left of them, after artillery barrages and the withering fire of muskets. It was the stuff of nightmares and many of his soldiers still visited him in his sleep. Some of these spectres were angry and cursed him, some were sad and wondering why they could not go home, and others seemed to be there to beckon him to join them.

"In time," he thought in answer to the dead faces, "in time."

Shale was a very capable warrior, as he had displayed against the bandits who had attacked them earlier, but Ulrich wondered whether it was courage or stupidity. Time would tell.

Soon the daylight would come and they would be on their way again in search of these kidnapped towns-men. He rolled over himself, averting his eyes from the strange stars above, and tried once more to close them.

"Wherever I am. Whatever curse has been laid upon me, I am beholden to it and must face the fact that my world and the life I knew before is gone. This is my new home...and these folk...strange as they are, are my new allies."

He drifted into sleep wondering if the god he had cursed in vain held any sway here, and if so, was he still damning his every step. He also thought in regard to his constant analysis of things - he let his mind do too much thinking!
Narrator: Darkening of Mirkwood | Chronicle of the North | Tempest Rising | To Boldly Go | Welcome to the 501st!
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦○○] Dmg 9/11  |  Edge 8  |  Injury 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

tomcat

#9
Nov 01, 2016, 08:23 am Last Edit: Nov 01, 2016, 05:57 pm by tomcat
Ulrich opened his eyes.

Something was wrong. No - not wrong, different. The fire still crackled where it was but his companions were gone. Also, there was an abundance of trees that had not been there before. It was different, yet familiar. Ulrich had been here. But when...and where was here? Then it came back to him - he was in the strange forest in which he had taken refuge those many weeks ago, when he had left his command behind. He had fallen asleep within that wood and awoken...in that strange new world. Was he back? Was he home?

He stood and quickly draped his baldric over his shoulder, leaving the rest of his gear to lay on the ground. The sky was turning a brilliant orange, sprinkling through the leaves above. He had a new day to try and figure out what was happening. With the fire as his landmark, he decided to move off and explore his immediate surrounds to see if anything else was familiar.

Ulrich moved towards the east where the light was growing. The land rolled up and down around him and he knew he was in the foothills of some mountain range, though he could not tell which, nor remember ever traveling into such a region. The tall fir trees finally opened up and he was able to see a good distance before him. The mountains rose to his left and the sun to his right. Perhaps they were the Lortmyls of his home? That would have placed him much farther west from where he remembered being when he was with his company of soldiers, and further still from his home of Bek.

Then he saw it - a small castle sitting atop the crest of the large rise to his north. Returning to his camp, he gathered his remaining items and then set his course to the keep. If there was to be any answers to his questions, they would need come from there. Ulrich marveled at the forest around him, but he noticed that though it was full and green, nothing living revealed itself. No bird song was heard, no eagles hung on the winds, no squirrel was seen. A shiver ran the length of his spine as his heart chilled to be in such a lifeless, living place. Still, the answers he needed were before him and so he pressed on.

At long last, he entered the keep, which was also silent. The gates were flung open and no sentry gave him challenge. It was well-built and strong, but empty. Ulrich wondered at his fate. He entered the inner bailey and found it well-adorned with comfortable furnishings, rugs, and tapestries, though nothing was familiar. The embroidered words were an odd language and the images were of heroes unknown. Ulrich continued his search and opened a set of doors that revealed a hall. In its center was a table set with delicious smelling food - a feast made for a prince.

And there he was - a  lone figure sitting at the head of the table.

To say he was tall would been incongruent to his form, for he was not, but his presence filled the room beyond that of any man... any mortal. His skin was gold and he wore no clothes. His eyes were deep and dark and pierced into Ulrich's very soul when they fell upon him. Captain von Bek drew a deep breath of amazement when he saw the golden, feathered wings that rose off the individual's back.

"Ah! Ulrich von Bek! At last you have come." The voice was soft, but it commanded respect. The sound was sweet and calming, but Ulrich knew there was power there beyond his ken. "Please, join me for some food?"

"Thank you, my Lord," Ulrich answered, showing deference though he knew not to whom. "I would love to partake in your fare, if you do not mind me asking to whom I owe my appreciation."

"You may indeed," answered the golden man jovially. "I am Agron. This is my home. And you are welcome here!"

Ulrich felt an icy grip of fear clutch his heart. He knew the name from his studies of faith - Agron the Fallen One. The Angel of Hell. He who had been cast out of Heaven for crimes against Protus, the All-Father.

He moved cautiously forward to the table, "I thank you Lord Agron for these comforts. I must ask you, though," Ulrich's voice hesitated but then continued, "why am I here?"

A congenial, if not wicked, smile spread across Agron's face, "Why, my dear Ulrich, I own your soul!"
Narrator: Darkening of Mirkwood | Chronicle of the North | Tempest Rising | To Boldly Go | Welcome to the 501st!
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦○○] Dmg 9/11  |  Edge 8  |  Injury 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

tomcat

#10
Nov 01, 2016, 09:22 am Last Edit: Nov 01, 2016, 10:01 am by tomcat
His head spun and he tried to get a hold of his bearings, but it was all too much. The strange forest, the empty keep, and now the demon-lord before him - if that was what he was?

The golden figure rose and walked around the table to come up and help Ulrich take a seat. "Come now," he said, "take a care not to fall down. I assure you, whatever your mind is trying to grip, this is all real."

Ulrich grabbed a chalice from the table and drank deep of the red wine within, emptying the cup. He breathed deeply for a few minutes and waited for his mind to calm. He stared evenly at the ornate plates on the table. They were all real. The cup in his hand was real. The room around him was real. The wine? It had no taste. He set the cup down with a shaking hand.

"My Lord, surely you are mistaken. I have done nothing in my life to offer up my soul - not to you. Not even to the All-Father."

The demon smiled, "It is really not yours to say, Ulrich. He is a fickle master, our Lord Protus. But do not worry, you have done plenty to deserve your place here with me."

Ulrich began to go through his memories of the evil he had done in war's name. The coldness he had allowed to fill him. The detachment from his faith and humanity.

"Oh stop that," said Agron. "If you take measure of your life now, we will be here for days!" The demon laughed in a sweet, chiming way.

"Why? What?" Captain von Bek did not know what to say.

"Eat first, and listen as I speak."

To this command, Ulrich reached out and took some of the buttered bread. He grabbed for a knife and spread a purple jam across its width and then bit. Again, there was no taste. Nothing. It was as if he chewed upon dust.

"I have a proposition for you, Ulrich. One which would benefit the both of us - I promise." The smile returned. "I wish you to find something for me. A trivial item. A mere trinket. You see, ever since I was removed from my station in Heaven, I have not really liked the new world I must endure."

Ulrich thought back to his teachings and how Agron had led an uprising against Protus and Celestia. The War of the Gods it was called and also, the War in Heaven. Agron and his followers were beaten and cast out - thus was the depths of Hell filled with the demons of power. These demons now preyed on men and the Earth, stealing and taking souls of the innocent, the damned, or the forsaken. He heard the voice still talking and he was brought back to the present.

"It is the means for me to communicate once more with the All-Father! Without it, Heaven is closed off from me."

"But why," asked Ulrich in a terror-filled voice.

"So that I may ask forgiveness! It is penance that I wish to make, Ulrich. I wish, too, that one thing that mortals seek - redemption!"

Suddenly Ulrich felt the fear easing within his heart, "What are you asking of me, my Lord?" It was like a fog was lifting from his thoughts and he could see clearly once more.

"I wish you to find the Chalice of Larama. It is the one device that might open communication for me, once more, to Heaven. In payment for this deed, I offer you the return of your soul."

Ulrich looked now at the demon-lord with a bit of skepticism, "My soul would be redeemed for such a task? I would be welcomed one day unto the Light?" It stunned Ulrich that he spoke such, after spending the better part of his adult life denouncing his faith.

"I cannot say," answered Agron, "but I can tell you that you would be free of an eternity in my possession. An eternity of damnation. Your soul, if not allowed once more into Heaven, would at least be free to wander the world - a ghost, if nothing more. You would no longer be possessed by any higher being. In truth, you would have that which you have sought - freedom. Unlimbered from the demands of the righteous and released from the suffering of servitude." The demon made a clicking sound with his mouth, "I actually find your predicament rather enviable."

Ulrich sat quietly for a moment and weighed his options. What if the demon was lying? What if his soul was not contested? But no, he knew it was. He knew what he had done. "I will do this thing for you, my Lord. I will take your offer and strive to free us both from our prisons."

A clangor of weapons was suddenly heard, as if a fight had commenced in the other room.

Agron stood before Ulrich and the contract was formed - energy escaped the demon and entered the man. "I will await you here. Return once you find the chalice."

"What is that noise?" asked Ulrich.

The demon began to stride from the room through a door in the opposite direction of the melee. "It is where you shall begin."

Ulrich watched Agron leave and then swallowing down an ill feeling, moved to the sound of combat. He walked through the door into a room that was empty save for its furnishings, but then his head began to reel.

A feeling of vertigo struck him and he felt weightless.

And then he was in a chamber - around him were the bodies of slain men, and also his new companions who stared at him with gaping eyes. The companions from a strange world, whom he had left sleeping beside a campfire.

"Where am I?" he asked, to no one in particular.
Narrator: Darkening of Mirkwood | Chronicle of the North | Tempest Rising | To Boldly Go | Welcome to the 501st!
Esgalwen [♦♦♦♦○○] Dmg 9/11  |  Edge 8  |  Injury 16/18
Nimronyn [Sindarin Pale gleam] superior keen, superior grievous longsword - orc bane
Foe-slaying - when attacking a bane creature, reduce Edge of weapon by value of bearer's Valour

Shadow bane [when in Forward stance, add 1 success die to each attack]
Skirmisher [if carried encumbrance is 12 or less, increase Parry by +3 when in close combat stance]

wshumaker

#11
Nov 10, 2016, 03:05 pm Last Edit: Nov 11, 2016, 04:27 pm by wshumaker
Shalesits in a shadowed corner of the cave he and his new allies had just cleared; puffing on his pipe, mulling over the events that had just unfolded. With a confused yet intrigued mindframe, he thinks to himself... Cpt. Ulrich... what sort of man can vanish and reappear without any use of Shadow. I am able to hide in shadow but to completely blank from existence that is a rare talent indeed.
  Becoming lost in thought, Shale thinks back to his days learning the skills of Shadow. The countless hours spent in silence and solitude. Taught to survive, even going as far as stripping himself of clothes, and lying up to his eyes in a cold mountain river. Offering him self to the shadow world, trying to reach through the vail of life itself to become one with the art of death. Still unsure when the time comes, if his training will prove worthy of deaths sweet embrace.
  He looks over to the Captain.. with a twisted grin.. gives a nod of acknowledgement and appreciation for the events of the day. He shakes the ash from his pipe, tucks it in his cloak, and shuts his eyes for a short rest.

dfriess

The Praxtis Haven Gazette

Editors note, open post for Underdark Liason, must be smart, witty and have a tasty brain. Respond care of Xithuis the Mindflayer

Events from the east!
Several royal companies have banded together with a handful of free companies, at the behest of the King, to battle with the OberBaron of the Eastern Shores. The OberBaron Terchoen,  has seized power with the help of a few noble households and claims to be the reincarnation of King Maleous the Cruel. The Kings Battle has camped outside the gates of Ambaucht and keeps them under siege. The Traveler has been seen in the area confiring with Baron Fisker and the minor lords of Besuden. The final assault is expected any day.

Tomb Islands Trouble
Several members of the funeral procession for Lord Nerith the XIIV were assault by undead when attempting to inter the good noble lord in his family crypt on the Tomb Islands. The presiding priest of Illumia and her acolytes were able to turn the creatures and force them away. The procession then continued until the final benediction when Lord Nerith the XIIV himself, having recently been laid in the sarcophagus, left the crypt and attempted to assault his widow, Good Lady Juliana. Lord Nerith was force back into the crypt and it was sealed. The noble houses have formally petitioned the King to look into this matter as these events have been increasing.

Disaster Averted in Cresthill

Several adventurers have saved the day in Cresthill during the birthday celebration of one of the towns gnomish nobles. It seems a mad kobold had stashed explosive barrels at various buildings in the city in a dastardly plan to seek revenge for past wrongs. The band of adventurers were able to thwart the kobold and remove the menace with little damage to the town beyond the initial explosion.


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