In Tilverton......


Turn 1

A fire burns in the fire place of the Broken Glass, sending a nice wave of warmth through the room, considering the front door keeps letting the early spring air into the commonroom.

There's an old man behind the bar, talking to man dressed in leathers. Next to the him, stands a wrinkled gnome dressed in red pants anda red shirt. Two men, who appear to be farmers, are talking to wealthy looking man. They share a table as well as a pork roast nearest to the fireplace. The only other occupants are the serving maid, who is cleaning the table next to the farmers, and a very drunk dwarf at the next table.

Turn 2


The door opens again, hardly disturbing the quiet atmosphere of the surroundings. A tall elf enters the room, wearing a beautifully decorated sword scabbard. Glancing around, he spots the waitress and strides over to her. He politely orders a beer and the daily special. The waitress, without even glancing at the blonde elf, nods her head and stops clearing the table. The elf then makes his way to the a table by the kithchen door, placing a harp on the table.

The drunk dwarf, ignoring the elf all together, stares after the woman, slugs back a long shot of ale and continues staring at the table top.

The door opens again, sending a cool breeze into the room. A halfling enters the room. He sweeps his gaze around the room while taking off his hat, nodding to no one and every one in there. The man dressed in leathers turns around and nods some sort of approval at the newest arrival. The halfling places his backpack near the table that was just cleared. He takes a seat so he is back-to-back with the farmers, and facing the drunk dwarf at the next table over. The waitress comes out with the elf's food, and quickly comes to the new customer and takes his order.

A small elf, just over 5', enters the Broken Glass. He's wearing a red shirt with brown leggings. He has a bow thrown over his shoulder, but no arrows, and a long sword at his side. He looks over those assembled in the establishment. He stares longingly at the roast pig. He looks as if he hasn't had a decent meal in several weeks, or spent a decent night on sleep either. He strides past the druken dwarf, the halfling, and the farmers with the wealthy patron. Passing between the fireplace and the farmers, he then makes his way to the bar. He steps up next to the gnome dressed in red. "A beer?" he asks the inn keeper behind the bar. the man smiles and places a mug in front of the elf.

The door opens, again, and a big beast of a man walks in. He brushes some hair out of his face. He is wearing a vest over his suit of chainmail. On the vest is the symbol of Torm. He walks straight toward the bar and next to the short elf, and asks, "So, what do you got to drink here?"

Before the innkeeper can reply, they all are surprised to hear harp music coming from the corner. Everyone looks over briefly and nods their head in approval, except the druken dwarf, who appears to have fallen asleep.

Then, a man comes out of the shadows, and takes a seat by the door. He has got a 2-handed sword strapped to his back. He also places his foot on a chest under the table #chest is 1 foot tall, 2 feet wide# that no one noticed until now. He is staring straight at the the man wearing the symbol of Torm, who must be a priest, despite his swords stapped onto his back and legs. He also appears to be weighing the worth of each and every occupant of the room.

Turn 3 The plot thickens.....


The door swings open again, a silver haired elf entering quietly, looking around the room. He appears to be looking for the source of music. With a brief glance glance at the others in the room, he heads toward the harper. As he reaches him, he spreads his hands a little away from his body, inclines his head, silently asking if the harper minds a companion.

The blonde elf, in reply says, "No problem." He waits for the other elf to sit before asking, "What's your name?"

The dwarf suddenly purks up, "My name ish......ish......I fergot..." and just as suddenly lowers his head to the table.

The smaller elf then stands and takes a few steps away from the follower of Torm. The elf appears to feel threatened by the large man standing next to him. The large man, in reply, simply smiles a large, friendly smile and downs the beer that the innkeeper just placed in front of him. The short elf nurses his beer and watches as the barmaid takes the special to the taller elf. He follows over carrying his beer. He glances towards the chest on the floor and appears to make an attempt at small talk.

The large man adjusts his vest and follows the short elf and says to the harpist, "You're pretty good." He pulls up a chair and listens in to the small talk.

Meanwhile, having heard part of the conversation between the farmers and the merchant, the halfling turns around towards the men and gets ready to speak. Before he does, the merchent gets up and turns around. He politly says, "Excuse me."

But before the man can move, the halfling pipes out, "Please forgive me my intrusion in your conversation and allow me to introduce myself. My name is Stirli Fistili and I overheard you talking, I have good ears you know, about recruiting. Could it be possible you are looking for some aid. If that is the case I'm very interested in hearing your offer. I can be of assistance in the woods and do some things that halflings are very good in." He produces a broad, grinning smile.

The man hurridly, but loud enough for everyone to hear, "See that man with the chest." He rushes past the halfling and stops at the 'mystery' man's table. He whispers something, that produces a glare from the seated man. The merchent turns white and whispers something else. The man lessens his glare, but annoyingly waves the merchant out the door.

The man in leathers frowns at the latest turn of events, and places some silver pieces on the bar. He downs the rest of his drink and strolls out the door. The mystery man and the man in leathers don't even acknowledge their existance as they pass, but you can feel the tension.

Turn 4 Intros and plot.....


Finishing the tune, the blonde elf looks around to the people around him. "Hello Fellow travelers," he says to the group. He starts to put his harp away. "I'm Volum Firefalcon from Evermeet, I am happy that you enjoy my music." He then removes his cape, and reveals a very fancy and ornate armor, inlaid with semi-precious gemstones and with many carvings, finely etched by a master artist. His sword is no less, if even more, majestic. He continues, "If any of you play an instrument I would more than happy to play with you." He then finishes his meal.

The halfling walks to the table. He smiles at Volum, "I really enjoyed that music, maybe we can listen to it another time when our friend," he nods towards the drunken dwarf, "is a bit more sober." He smiles again and laughs. The halfling then bows. "Hello travelers, my name is Stirli and I'm just passing through."

The big burly man, while continue sipping my beer, booms out in a friendly tone. "My name is Darien, loyal follower of Torm. Nice to meet you." He turns to the two who havn't answered yet, "What are your names?"

The silver haired elf answers "Limeas. And yours?" As the small-talk conversation increases in the rest of the room, he looks curiously in Volum's direction, but not incourteously.

The short elf watches the interchange between the group. As Volum stops to eat his meal, he nods and says some words in elfish to Volum. He then turns to the others, "I am Seryn."

Stiril becomes serious again and towards the group "Does anyone know this mystery man over there, he is giving me the creeps. He sure has a big chest, I wonder what's in it. Anyway I'm in need of some money and I feel like he might have a job for me or even some of us."

Seryn nods his head, "Perhaps this hiring offers an opportunity."

Stitil follows, "I'm going to ask him if he has something for us."

But before Stiril has a chance to act, the man looks over in your corner and stands up, unconciously flexing his muscles. You finally get a good look at him. He stands about 6 foot 4. Simply put, the man is a giant. The most striking aspect is his piecing eyes, simingly cloaked by the broad-rimmed black hat he is wearing. A cleanly cut red beard gives the impression of nobility, or even wealth, but the weapons strapped to him say otherwise.

He intones, "Finally....a group worth considering." He waits for your reactions and then continues. "As you may have heard, I am hiring an escort. My name is Granli." Once again he pauses. "If you choose to take this job, you will travel from Tilverton to Shadowdale, escorting a crucial grain shipment." The waitress walks up to the man and places a mug full of a strong brew, for you can smell it from 20 feet away. He gives her a gold piece and the woman hurridly shuffles away. "I won't lie to you, because I want you to be prepared and to succeed. There has been many raids and other dangers along that road." He then pulls a bag from behind his back. "The pay is good....100 gold pieces each upon agreement, another 500 gold pieces upon arrival." He then places it on the table, as if waiting for an answer.......

Turn 5 Decisions.....


Stiril, upon seeing the bag, stares lustfully at the burlap sack that Granli is flaunting about. Stiril looks at the bag like a child at his new toy. He eyes are nearly bulging, and the party can hear a faint stuttering, "G....g...gggold". He suddenly seems to snap back to focus and mutters, "As far as I'm concerned count me in." to no one in particular.

Stiril looks questioningly towards the companions at the table. Darien appears to be studying Granli, not staring, but weighing. Seryn glances around the table, awaiting an answer. Limeas is also waiting for someone to speak up.

Volum beams a broad smile at Seryn and says something in Elfish. Seryn nods in response. He then steps forward to the table which has the gold on it. The elf bows to the large human and says, "Your offer promises reward. I recognize the possibility of danger and accept that. I, Seryn, accept your offer of employment." Granli nods in approval.

Finishing his drink, Volum stands and walks by Seryn towards Granli, armor and sword sparkling in the light. Granli makes a motion for Volum to sit. He does and looks Granli dead in the eyes "Hmm. back to Shadowdale it is then, I shall accept the job. But I can not help to wonder that 3000 gold piecies is a bit much to pay us for escorting grains, even if there is a crucial need for it..."

Stiril comes up behind the two elves. Turning towards the giant man again. He pipes out, "If you pay that amount of money what are the dangers we can face."

"Dangers? Of what type?" Limeas asks, in a firm tone.

Stiril follows immediately, "I heard a rumour of orcs and even wizards being around. And that for a simple grain shipment??" Darien stands up at his table, waiting for answers.

Volum leans forward, "What are we really escorting?"

Granli smiles, (if you can call it that) and lifts the chest and sets it on the table. "I know you have many concerns....if you just let me address them one by one. This chest is to also accompany you on your travels." He pats the top of the chest. "It is to go the same place the grain is to go to, Helva Brantford. He is a merchant who is based near the Old Skull Inn in Shadowdale. I trust you all NOT to open this chest....under any circumstances." He stares at Stiril for a moment and continues, "It is simply a treasure....a miniature statue of a green dragon, carved out of jade."

He then peers towards the farmers. "The 'trouble' along the roads appears to be involved with a band of wemics. The wemics are moving their hunting grounds south, forcing the regional band of orcs to loot and plunder somewhere else.....civilization. I'd rather wipe both of them off the land, but Raeryn, the ranger who left upon my arrival, would rather relocate them. But seeing an armed escort.....that should scare the orcs off." He sips on his drink. "As for these mages and green-robed folk....I have no clue about them. They haven't given me or the shipments much trouble."

He sets his mug down and wraps his cloak around his shoulders. "It is late. Rooms will be on me. Meet me here tommorrow morning, and I'll give you horses, your first payment, and a chance to buy any last neccessary supplies." With that he turns, carrying the chest, and leaves.

The farmers soon leave after a few minutes, as does the gnome at the bar. The dwarf, on the other hand, is still snoring loudly.

The innkeeper walks out from behind the bar and places a blanket over the the drunk and turns towards the group. "Luckily I have 5 rooms on the third floor. Make your self at home."

Turn 6 Rest before adventuring.....


Volum stands and announces, "Well, the night is still young and I guess we are stuck on each other" beaming a smile towards the others. "So what brought you here, I would like to know who I'm going to travel with. Let me buy you all a mug of ale." He turns and motions for the innkeeper to come over, ordering 4 mugs of ale. Darien also orders a meal for himself.

Limeas, looking at the others, "A drink then, to our newfound Fellowship...". Stirli nods and raises his mug.

Volum continues, "Let me introduce myself, I'm, as mentioned before, Volum of the Firefalcon clan from Evermeet, I'm pleased to meet you all. I hope that we have a pleasent travle ahead of us, but something tells me we are going to earn our money."

Seryn says to his new companions, "Perhaps, we can discuss our plans for guarding this shipment? We should do so up in one of the rooms." Darien in response starts to shine one of his swords.

Conversations


Seryn watches the barmaid bring ales to the table. He nods to Volum and says, "Clan Firefalcon? Evermeet?" The small elf looks out into the night and continues, "I've been here and been there...." Seryn pauses and whispers, "Started in Everskea but I've never liked one place for too long. But, I know a little of this and a little of that." His voice increases back to normal volume and he continues, "I hope my skills will be of use on the road. I'm fair with a bow, but first thing in the morning I will buy more arrows. I'd rather not fight at all, but if you must make it from a distance."

"I don't think if you ever heard of clan Firefalcon, but my father was one of the greatest elven fighters, who has ever lived, but when..." there is a small break as Volum touches the hilt of his ornamented sword, "a personal tragedy touched me and. . ." Volum's voice goes sad, "my family, it forced me to leave my beloved home, but lately I have heard that I have a chance to return to Evermeet, even though it can prove to be dangerous quest" Volum's voice returns to it normal self " Ohh, I have spent the last decade or so in the area around Shadowdale, living of my meager skill with a harp and selling what little knowledge I have gained from dusty old tomes." He continues, "I hope that I can be of some assistance in battle, I can't use a large varity of arms, but I have been trained for several years by the finest elven weapon masters, and I have studied at the elven College of Magic. But enough talk we don't," smiling towards the human and the halfling, "want to keep the rookies up."

Stirli the Halfling was just drinking from his mug as he heard Volum say the word "rookies". He puts down his mug with a bang so that some ale spills over the table and begins to laugh, grabbing his belly with both hands. After a few seconds he gasps for air and looks Volum straight in the eyes, but still with a smile and says "Never call anyone a rookie before you've seen him into action, friend Volum. You may all be surprised. My small size has proven me some great opportunities in life, you will discover some of them shortly I guess. When there is some spying to do or some opening of locks, think of Stirli! I've been leading a life in the woods after I left my village Menbridge. I'm fast and a good bow shooter, though not as good as our elf friends." He then adds quickly, "I guess." He continues, "And now I'm here, in search for a dry place to sleep and eat. But, I can use the money, don't you rookie?" he looks smiling at the human. Darien looks sideways at Stirli and just smirks.

Limeas begins, "I, too, study magic." Looking at the other mages in the group, "Perhaps we will have time to 'discuss' your theories and applications of it." Then he looks at the others, "But for now, perhaps we should find our way to our rooms, and prepare for the morrow." With a quick grin, a nod, he half stands, finishs his drink, leaves a few coins for barmaid, and prepares to adjourn to his room for the evening.

Volum answers, "Good night Limeas. Hmm you got a point, we are going to have a long day tomorrow, so I guess I'm off for a few hours of reverie" Standing up collecting his belongings, Volum heads for his room. "Sweet dreams."

Turn 7 The morning.......


The sun is shining through the windows of the inn as the characters come from your rooms. The 'mystery man' is no longer there, but the drunk dwarf is still asleep in the same position you left him, and now in a pool of his own saliva.

"Good morning," the inn keeper beams to you. "I hope you had a good night's rest." His face then droops a little. "That man left a message for you......the horses and a pony, for the halfling, are outside and the chest is with the pony."

You walk outside and squint in the bright morning light. It is still cool, but the sun will warm things up by noon. You notice there is a little fog, but that is burning off, too. Sure enough, there are 4 horses and a pony hitched to the rail in front of the inn. You also realize all you have to do to get to Shadowdale is wait for the grain to arrive.

You turn and see a slow procession coming up the street. It appears to be a furneral, because all of the marchers are wearing black. You see the casket being lead by a priest. The priest a recieting chants from a book while walking. He is wearing a black tunic with a symbol of a skeletal arm holding scales embroidered in bronze thread. Darien mentions that the priest is a priest of Kelemvor, god of death. He lectures everyone briefly how Kelemvor is not the god of murder or dying.....but of the peaceful transition from life to death...and the insurance the all dead and undead are put to rest.

Soon after the funeral passes, you see a fat man driving a team of four horses. He spots you and stops the wagon. A tarp is covering the grain. He pulls out a handerchief a dabs his sweaty face. The man is slightly overweight if he's sweating in 60 degree weather. "Ahy, there mates! You must be me escort! Let's get a move on it if we want to make it to Shadowdale in reasonable time, ahy?"

You get on your mounts and follow the wagon out of the town.

This page hosted by GeoCities Get your own Free Home Page