Post by Minty on Feb 3, 2012 19:50:10 GMT
The firelight is burning low in the Swarthy Hog tavern. It is a late March evening and a troupe of would-be adventurers are slumped in exhaustion and inebriation around a wooden table, the smell of cheap ale and vomit hang bittersweet in the air.
The quest that brought them to the little hamlet of Frey which had sounded suspiciously like a waste of time, had turned out to be a waste of time. Eliza, the missing daughter of the portly Sir Blount of Frey had been found unharmed and in the arms of her husband, Marten, who while excessively hairy, was most definitely not a were-wolf. The two had eloped, despite the best efforts of Sir Blount, and true love conquers all.
The paltry reward that the group had acquired had been more or less drunk away, and discussion had turned to where to go next, as staying in Frey seemed to be a fate worse than death and the wanderlust was beginning to rise within even the most content of hearts.
The bespectacled owner of the Swarthy Hog, Jaime, waddled over to collect the empty tankards littering the table. Never before have you seen such an obese Halfling, but he is amiable enough, and offered a reduced rate to sleep in the common room.
“Buck up chaps! Why so glum?”
The adventurers explain their situation to the portly barkeep, while he removes his glasses and rubs them up against his worn and slightly dirty linen shirt.
“I think I may be able to help you out with that quandary my friends!” The Halfling scampered back behind the bar and returned with a rolled parchment. “I was supposed to put this up on the notice board, but it looks like it slipped my mind.”
After clearing some space on the tankard covered table, the parchment was unfurled for all to read:
BY ORDER OF THE COUNCIL OF ARDENT ON THIS, THE 25th DAY OF MARCH:
A MENACE STALKS THE ROADS TO THE NORTH OF FAIR ARDENT;
RAIDING SUPPLY LINES AND MURDERING THE FREE FOLK OF BRENYA.
A BOUNTY HAS BEEN AUTHORISED BY LUCIAN McGOG,
LORD MAYOR OF ARDENT, SET AT THE VALUE OF FIVE HUNDRED GOLD PIECES
TO ANY MAN WHO BRINGS THE HEAD OF ONE “GORAK THE BLOODY”
TO THE CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD OF ARDENT. AN ADDITIONAL BOUNTY
OF ONE GOLD PIECE WILL BE PAID FOR PROOF OF DEATH OF ANY
CREATURE FOUND WORKING WITH HIM.
FOR MORE INFORMATION CONTACT THE COUNCIL OF ARDENT
The adventurers look to one another, five hundred gold pieces is a lot of money.
“I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re interested! You can keep that parchment; you’re the first people remotely interested in that sort of thing I’ve hosted all year, and I’m not likely to see the likes of you again anytime soon.” Jaime chuckled.
“I’ve never had need to go to Ardent myself, but their folk who have come by here have seemed nice enough. A damned shame that they are seeing troubles warranting hired swords.” The Halfling indicates the curling map of the area pinned to the wall behind the bar. “Ardent is about a day’s ride to the North, but as you’re without horses it looks more like three or four days’ travel.”
“Still, you can treat yourself to one of those steam baths that Ardent is famous for when you get there, and … well never mind then.” The rotund barkeep potters off, the adventurers in deep discussion of gold and glory had completely blocked out his sage advice.
The next day, the groggy headed troupe exit the establishment with rations and a borrowed tent, in search of adventure in Ardent.
The quest that brought them to the little hamlet of Frey which had sounded suspiciously like a waste of time, had turned out to be a waste of time. Eliza, the missing daughter of the portly Sir Blount of Frey had been found unharmed and in the arms of her husband, Marten, who while excessively hairy, was most definitely not a were-wolf. The two had eloped, despite the best efforts of Sir Blount, and true love conquers all.
The paltry reward that the group had acquired had been more or less drunk away, and discussion had turned to where to go next, as staying in Frey seemed to be a fate worse than death and the wanderlust was beginning to rise within even the most content of hearts.
The bespectacled owner of the Swarthy Hog, Jaime, waddled over to collect the empty tankards littering the table. Never before have you seen such an obese Halfling, but he is amiable enough, and offered a reduced rate to sleep in the common room.
“Buck up chaps! Why so glum?”
The adventurers explain their situation to the portly barkeep, while he removes his glasses and rubs them up against his worn and slightly dirty linen shirt.
“I think I may be able to help you out with that quandary my friends!” The Halfling scampered back behind the bar and returned with a rolled parchment. “I was supposed to put this up on the notice board, but it looks like it slipped my mind.”
After clearing some space on the tankard covered table, the parchment was unfurled for all to read:
BY ORDER OF THE COUNCIL OF ARDENT ON THIS, THE 25th DAY OF MARCH:
A MENACE STALKS THE ROADS TO THE NORTH OF FAIR ARDENT;
RAIDING SUPPLY LINES AND MURDERING THE FREE FOLK OF BRENYA.
A BOUNTY HAS BEEN AUTHORISED BY LUCIAN McGOG,
LORD MAYOR OF ARDENT, SET AT THE VALUE OF FIVE HUNDRED GOLD PIECES
TO ANY MAN WHO BRINGS THE HEAD OF ONE “GORAK THE BLOODY”
TO THE CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD OF ARDENT. AN ADDITIONAL BOUNTY
OF ONE GOLD PIECE WILL BE PAID FOR PROOF OF DEATH OF ANY
CREATURE FOUND WORKING WITH HIM.
FOR MORE INFORMATION CONTACT THE COUNCIL OF ARDENT
The adventurers look to one another, five hundred gold pieces is a lot of money.
“I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re interested! You can keep that parchment; you’re the first people remotely interested in that sort of thing I’ve hosted all year, and I’m not likely to see the likes of you again anytime soon.” Jaime chuckled.
“I’ve never had need to go to Ardent myself, but their folk who have come by here have seemed nice enough. A damned shame that they are seeing troubles warranting hired swords.” The Halfling indicates the curling map of the area pinned to the wall behind the bar. “Ardent is about a day’s ride to the North, but as you’re without horses it looks more like three or four days’ travel.”
“Still, you can treat yourself to one of those steam baths that Ardent is famous for when you get there, and … well never mind then.” The rotund barkeep potters off, the adventurers in deep discussion of gold and glory had completely blocked out his sage advice.
The next day, the groggy headed troupe exit the establishment with rations and a borrowed tent, in search of adventure in Ardent.
